The Ice War

by Anders Blixt

  Engines roared in the vicinity and I shifted my attention to them. Two fighter biplanes with the Danish flag on the tailfins climbed sharply from the military airfield. “Those planes can’t get close to that Jap,” I said. “Let’s move on, shall we.”

  Linda nodded and got up from the asphalt.

  When we arrived at the Szenes’s workshop after walking through the littered and currently quiet bar district, I once again scanned the sky with my binocular. The Danish fighters were circling in figures of eight more than ten thousand feet above us. The Japanese monoplane cruised slowly at a much higher altitude, out of range from their machine guns. Its cameras were probably busy clicking away. Many people in the vicinity had stopped working to look at the events in the sky.

  We entered the workshop through the main entrance. As soon as I had opened the door, I heard the raspy voice of an old man speaking in Danish on the radio in a nearby room. While we walked on, I gave Linda a simultaneous summary in English.

  “… are ready to defend the subjects and territories of the Danish Crown in Alba. We have not yet been able to determine whether the Japanese also have attacked our king’s possessions in Europe, Asia or Magalhana. Today I have proclaimed martial law and thereby authorized general Rantzau to carry out whatever defensive measures he deems necessary. Civilian property can now be requisitioned by the military. All male subjects between fourteen and sixty years of age may be drafted to labour companies by the military and civilian county administrators. Unrest, sedition and subversion will be punished according the war paragraphs in the penal code. The police have received extraordinary authority to act against anyone obstructing the war efforts. Looters and rioters will be shot. Troubled times are ahead of us. It is only through disciplined behaviour and hard work that we will be able to fend off this assault on our homes and our honour. Long live King Christian!” A military band started playing the Danish royal anthem Kong Christian stod vid højen mast.

  In the building’s common room Victor, Jacob, Hannah and middle-aged man in a mechanic’s overall sat next to a large radio in a piece of teak furniture.

  “Good morning,” Victor Szenes said in German. “The Japanese have attacked Christianshus. That was governor Trampe speaking to the people.”

  Another voice from the radio cut him off: “There will be news broadcasts on top of every hour for the rest of the day and ongoing programs will be interrupted for urgent bulletins. Regular programming is cancelled until further notice. We will now play Messiah by Händel in a recording from 1932, performed by the Copenhagen Symphony Orchestra and the Roskilde Cathedral Choir. Conductor is Jan Toll.” Hannah Szenes turned down the volume to a mild background noise.

  Victor Szenes introduced the stranger: “This is Daniel Szenes, the owner of the workshop and Hannah’s uncle.”

  Daniel addressed Linda in slow Yiddish: “Welcome back.” Then he turned to me: “Herr Bornewald, you are a travelled man they tell me. I left Europe long ago and have never bothered with the doings of kings and emperors in faraway lands. But now their wars have come to Alba. What can you tell me about the Japanese?”

  I answered in German: “Aggressive and expansionist. They have fought many wars against China, Russia, Mexico and Spain. Their soldiers are feared everywhere around the Pacific Ocean. They are taking no risks by attacking Danish territory here, because Denmark cannot threaten Japan’s home islands.”

  “Will general Rantzau’s army be able to stop them?” said Daniel.

  “I doubt that.” I looked at Linda and then at Hannah and recalled the reports I had read in the Hamburger Handelszeitung about Japanese atrocities in the Philippines. The blood left my face and my legs trembled. “Where is the outhouse?” I mumbled.

  “At the rear of the yard, next to the aeroplanes,” said Daniel Szenes.

  I walked away alone, every step feeling like a mile. If my concentration falters, I will stumble and fall. Outside the building I gazed at the blue sky and the distant Japanese aircraft. I lifted my hands into my field of vision. The power over life and death, I thought and closed my eyes. Why am I the one to decide who will live, who will die? My brother Abel’s words rose out of some crevasse in my mind: “Privileges always entail matching duties.” Regardless what path I choose, children will lose their fathers and woman their husbands. Regardless where I go in the future, I will always carry the memory of what I did or did not do here.

  I turned inward in search of an answer. Anguish, glittering and burning like molten metal, filled my skull and the surroundings faded away. Suddenly I broke its choke-hold, took a deep breath and gazed into the core of my being. Honour will be my succour: to protect women and children, to defend the weak. I saw my path ahead, the path of death leading through darkness and fire. I opened my eyes. May my courage stay firm till the bitter end. I looked at the disassembled aeroplanes parked in the enclosed yard and decided: That’ll be the way.

  I returned indoors. “Ladies and gentlemen! I have changed my plans and I need your help.” Two women, two men and one boy looked at me. “It falls on my shoulders to save Acheron from Japan’s soldiers, but I can’t accomplish that on my own.”

  “Will you use Pandora’s box?” Linda forced those words out of her mouth with visible effort.

  “Yes!” I said.

  “I don’t understand,” said Victor Szenes.

  “Sodom and Gomorrah,” I said. “I will recreate Sodom and Gomorrah at Christianshus.” Surtr the Fire Giant was hardly a mythological reference that Jews would recognize. “Fire and brimstone falling out of the sky.”

  “You’re crazy,” said Jacob Szenes.

  “Doesn’t matter,” I said. “Do you want your cousin to be raped by Japanese soldiers?”

  Jacob looked away from me. Hannah’s face turned pale. She opened her mouth but no words came out.

  “Johnny, do it!” Linda’s voice had turned into a faint hissing. “Burn them to hell!”

  Her words erased any hesitation remaining in my mind. “That happened in Manila six years ago. It won’t happen again,” I said.

  “Explain what you mean,” said Victor Szenes.

  “Pandora’s box contains the most powerful bomb ever made. I will use it to wipe out the Japanese force besieging Christianshus.”

  “But then you’ll be killing Danish soldiers, too, won’t you?” said Daniel Szenes.

  “True. But what choice do we have? The Japanese will show no mercy to the vanquished,” I said.

  “I know,” said Victor Szenes. “And I see how you think. You want to destroy the Japanese corps when it concentrated in one spot.”

  “That’s right,” I said.

  “How the hell will you get that bomb to Christianshus? It far off and the Danes will hardly assist you,” said Daniel Szenes.

  “You’ll make me a flyable aircraft from those fuselages in your yard,” I said.

  Five people looked at me in silence. They must be thinking that I am out of my mind.

  “That can be done,” said Daniel Szenes. “We have the right engines in the garage. But, Herr Bornewald, we need a lot of cash right away for spare parts.”

  “I have plenty of silver at hand. Can you finish the job by tomorrow evening?” I said.

  “That’ll be hard if you want to fly safely,” said Daniel Szenes.

  “I have some drugs that can keep you working through the night,” I said.

  “Herr Bornewald, how will you be able to fly that far? It’ll be night and very cold,” said Hannah Szenes.

  “I’ll take some pills to increase my endurance and sharpen my eyesight. Navigation will be easy because I’ll follow the railroad all the way,” I said.

  “No time to lose,” said Victor Szenes. “Let’s start at once.” He walked out of the room with a firm stride.

  “Miss Szenes, try to get hold of a parachute. I need one to slow the bomb’s descent,” I said.

  The next thirty-six hours whirled by without a break. Jacob Szenes and I cooked food and handled other
logistical matters, while the others made me an aeroplane. Linda handled the bomb barrel by herself, an arrangement appreciated by the others. The mechanics’ skilled hands attached wings made of wooden slats to a fuselage made from steel rods and covered the skeleton with fabric. The three men treated the two females with professional respect, whereas a woman in a European workshop would have been ridiculed. I approved of the rustic equality in the Alban mind-set.

  I refrained from using Maxidin because I wanted a solid night’s sleep. I would stuff myself with drugs the next night, so I did not want to weary my mind and body unnecessarily. However, worry foiled those plans. My body would not relax: soon I would kill thousands. I wished time and time again that I would be spared from doing this deed, but no.

  The radio provided continuous music and war news. Fighting raged around the fortifications at Christianshus and the Danes appeared to be the weaker party. The authorities in Fredriksborg mobilized society by instituting rationing, curfew, black-out and so on.

  I visited captain Leclerc in the Cassiopeia and explained summarily that I had to go away again. On the way back, I bought a set of maps for Acheron in a bookshop. The route to Christianshus curved around Hephaestus Mons and I wanted to learn the guiding landmarks.

  Chapter 20

  The mechanics completed their job on schedule, so the next evening I inspected their simple biplane. I would be satisfied if it managed to take me to Christianshus and no further. Daniel Szenes tested the engine and it responded with the desired roar. Linda had designed a radio-controlled fuse for the bomb and a booby-trap that would detonate it if someone tried to unfasten the lid.

  I dressed myself for the bitter cold of the sky by putting on layer after layer of wool and cotton, with a windproof oilskin coat outmost. Flat hot-water bottles were added in appropriate places. Linda made a final check of the plane: everything in proper order.

  I climbed into the cockpit, feeling clumsy like a baby. Linda handed me a cup of water and five pills in different colours, an unhealthy mix of medicaments that would make any doctor furious. If I survived this escapade, I would be knocked out for days with a serious risk of kidney injuries.

  “The street is empty,” Jacob called from beyond the yard’s front fence.

  Daniel and Victor opened the gate and pushed the plane into the street. The darkness was no problem, because my drug-enhanced sight registered everything of importance. Forty yards of asphalt ahead of me: sufficient, because the biplane’s broad wings provided plenty of lift.

  Linda came up next to me with the electro-starter. “Johnny, do come back,” she called.

  She looked unexpectedly feminine in a dirty overall, with smudged hands and a bad crew-cut. “See you,” I said. I could not reach her for a handshake, so I merely winked and put the goggles over my eyes.

  “Hals- und Beinbruch,” she said and started the engine with a jolt.

  I turned the throttle and the plane raced toward the end of the street. Ten yards, twenty yards, thirty yards – I pulled the stick. The plane took off and crossed the roof of a stone house with little clearance.

  Fredriksborg quickly turned into a dark maze below me. The police would probably get reports soon about an alien aircraft, but I was already outside their reach. The Danish fighter planes could not find me in the darkness. I spotted the railway station and put the plane on the route to Christianshus.

  The drugs harried my body and the cold cut to the bones. Several times I had to urinate in an improvised diaper. I soon lost the sense of time – cosmos shrunk to my cramped cockpit and the unceasing clamour of the engine. Keeping a steady course demanded all my energy. The weather remained calm, so I was spared hard winds or rain. The sky was mostly clear and the bright Canopus aided me whenever I wanted to double-check my course.

  All suffering has an end. The moment arrived when I glimpsed the distant line where the mainland touched the ice sheet. I swallowed another pill to get more alert and pulled the stick to gain altitude. I did not want to be the target of trigger-happy soldiers. Sparks on the ground – scouts and sentries who fired rifles and machine guns at each other – showed me the extent of the battle area.

  The Japanese encircled Christianshus completely. My engine alerted gunners on both sides and tracer bullets rose in arcs from the ground. However, they did not unsettle my artificial composure. The drugs in my blood dulled all emotions: the thought of killing thousands of people did not sicken me; it was just a job that I had decided to do.

  I made a curve over the ice sheet and turned back toward Christianshus. When I flew over the terminal complex, I pulled a lever. The plane skipped upward at the release of the bomb. I leaned over the cockpit frame and watched its parachute unfold. I pushed the stick forward to put the plane into a shallow dive and increase its speed, because I needed to put a good distance between myself and the bomb before it exploded.

  The railroad became my guide once again. After about ten miles I crossed a ridge and spotted a field that might serve as a landing strip. I cut the speed and turned. The wind came sidewise from an uncomfortable angle and made the plane waver. I put her down with such force that the fuselage trembled and creaked. It bumped forward and lost speed, but suddenly the wind seized the wings. The plane rolled over. I pressed the radio trigger – the mission must be concluded before I died.

  A new sun shone behind me while the plane tumbled to the left. Long shadows and bright contrast filled my vision. The ground shattered the plane and mauled me. Pain and heat pushed a scream through my lips.

  I crawled away from the wreckage, panting from anguish. A mottled fire ball flamed against the black sky – cremating or crushing thousands of people at Christianshus.

  A shock wave hurtled across the field and tossed the wreck through the air. I pressed myself against the ground to avoid flying debris.

  Mission accomplished: Christianshus obliterated, Fredriksborg saved. The war would continue, but nothing would remain the same: Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall, Humpty Dumpty had a great fall, all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put Humpty together again.

  Soon the effects of the drugs wore off and the withdrawal made me vomit and weep. My left arm was so badly injured that I could not move it without crying from pain. Like the Greek god Phaeton, I had ruined a world with the sun’s sky chariot and like him I had paid for it.

  I crept inch by inch toward the railroad tracks, because that was the only place where rescuers could find me.

  The real sun rose into the sky when I reached the tracks, but dawn brought no relief. The whole day I prayed that darkness would overwhelm me and take the pains away, but I did not lose consciousness for a moment. I lay on my back next to the railway ballast and followed the sun’s arc across the sky. Monsters crawled around me in incomprehensible hallucinations. Coarse black grass prodded my back. Foulness leaked from my body, gradually turning me into stinking offal.

  After a few hours a Danish fighter biplane flew past me high in the sky. It circled several times around the smoke pillars rising from Christianshus and then returned toward Fredriksborg. The pilot could not have seen me.

  Afternoon came and the sun started to descend. My canteen kept thirst at bay. Far away I heard the clanking of an approaching train, but I could not turn my head in that direction. They’ll see me, they’ll see me, I prayed as the sound increased.

  Brakes screeched and the engine stopped. Four Danish soldiers lifted me into a car and put me on an examination table. A nurse inspected my injuries.

  “Give me no medicines,” I whispered in Swedish. “I’m chock full with drugs.” She put a splint around my left arm while I screamed with pain.

  A convoy of four trains rolled slowly onwards to the place where Surtr had danced. I dozed off in a shaky bunk inside an improvised hospital car.

  Epilogue

  I spent three weeks recuperating in a locked wing of the State Hospital in Fredriksborg together with ill deserters and other criminals. The police explained tha
t I had been arrested under the state-of-war regulations. I simulated amnesia and provided no explanation why I had been found next to the railway track. The doctors told me that my left arm had been permanently maimed, but that I otherwise should recover.

  One day I was released by an order signed by the chief of police. The Danish authorities had decided that keeping a mentally disturbed but otherwise harmless man locked up was a waste of resources. It was after all not possible to charge me with any crime, because no one ever connected me to the transuranium explosion.

  The wrecked aircraft and my backpack remained at the crash site and I think that nobody ever paid attention to them. What importance do you ascribe to fragments of metal and wood in a field when a huge crater smoulders nearby?

  Daniel Szenes had contacted the police immediately after my departure from Fredriksborg and reported that an unidentified plane had landed and started in the adjacent street. The police obtained several contradictory witness reports, but failed to put together what really had transpired that evening so the case was soon dismissed.

  The Cassiopeia left for Magalhana while I was hospitalized. Leclerc came to see me the day before her departure and asked what I wanted to report to colonel Ter Horst. I gave him a summary and told him to make sure that the colonel received Yazov’s metal bars and the papers from the ancient mine.

  Rumours circulating in the hospital claimed that the Japanese had taken some sort of doomsday weapon to Christianshus and that it had detonated prematurely, wiping out both sides. The local newspapers published unreliable accounts within a few days. People mentioned that ten thousand soldiers had perished, but I do not think that anybody will find out the correct number.

  I never witnessed the devastation with my own eyes, but that did not ease the burden on my conscience. I was personally responsible for the greatest mass murder in human history and ought to be hanged as a war criminal, because I had not been a legal combatant serving in a military force. But who would charge me? Only half a dozen people in Alba knew the truth and none of them would speak to the police. What conclusions did the governments in Tokyo, Saint Petersburg, Paris and Vienna draw? Only the future may tell. That also applies to the archaeological discoveries in the mine.