Dogfight

by Craig Simpson

  She frowned. ‘The what?’

  ‘Bald Eagle and the Penguin. They’re code names. Bald Eagle is the man who parachuted in to rendezvous with Heimar. I don’t know the identity of the Penguin, but Father Amundsen mentioned his name. The priest also spoke of the Telescope, but Anders Jacobsen didn’t ask me about him. Don’t worry, though, I said nothing.’

  ‘Our world’s been turned upside down, hasn’t it?’ said Mother. ‘Where will it all end?’

  ‘With an Allied victory, of course,’ I said defiantly. ‘And I want to do my bit. Like Father. I want to fight back. I mean more than just carrying messages.’

  ‘No, Finn. I couldn’t bear it if—’

  ‘If what?’ I interrupted. ‘If I got killed too?’

  Mother swallowed hard.

  ‘Father knew what was right. We all do. We all have to do our bit.’

  ‘No, Finn. We’re surrounded by enough danger as it is.’

  ‘Exactly. All the more reason. Anyway, we each have to make our own decisions in the end, don’t we? It’s my life, after all.’ There was a moment of silence between us.

  ‘We’ll see, Finn. We’ll see.’ Mother’s gaze fixed once again on the distant shore of the fjord and she looked lost in thought. A seagull landed on the water with a splash and frantic flapping of its wings. Oslo stirred from my side and bounded to the water’s edge, his tail wagging furiously.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘For all the trouble I’ve caused. But you don’t have to worry. When I was in the fortress, I came to a decision. No more nonsense like all that between Ned and me. At least, as far as I’m concerned.’

  Mother looked far from convinced.

  ‘Honestly. Although Ned landed me in it with those newsletters, I worked out why he’s been hassling me all this time. Although we’re on the same side, neither of us realized it. He thinks I’m a collaborator and I thought he was a fascist sympathizer. We were both wrong. Like you and Heimar both said, it’s the Nazis who are our real enemy. I suppose I’ll just have to try to avoid him … avoid more trouble, that is.’

  Mother ran her fingers through my hair. ‘Promise? No more of this nonsense?’ She sounded relieved.

  ‘Yes, I promise.’

  Oslo waded into the water and began barking. The seagull fled. ‘Oslo! Come back here,’ I shouted. He obliged, shaking himself on arrival and giving us both an unwelcome cold shower. ‘So what’s in the bag?’ I asked, wanting to change to a lighter subject.

  Mother lifted the large canvas bag she’d brought with her onto her knees. ‘I have a big surprise for you. I know it’s not your birthday yet, Finn,’ she said, ‘but I thought you might need cheering up. So you can have this now if you like. I’ll get you something else too, of course.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Well, why don’t you take a look? I haven’t wrapped it or anything.’ She handed the bag to me.

  It felt quite heavy. I undid the drawstring and opened it. There was something made of brown leather inside. I pulled it out and unfolded it, recognizing it instantly. My flying jacket! I held it out in front of me. ‘But how on earth—?’

  She interrupted me. ‘I went to see Ned and his mother.’

  I stared at her, open-mouthed.

  ‘We had a good long chat,’ she added.

  ‘And?’ I asked.

  ‘Listen, Finn, you mustn’t breathe a word of what I’m about to tell you to anyone. OK?’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘A few weeks ago I saw something I shouldn’t have. At the Lofoten. I discovered that the Home Front is using the bar’s basement to print newsletters. Right under the noses of the Germans. Anyway, after what happened to you I realized why Ned and a few other boys and girls regularly turn up at the back door late at night – they were acting as distributors and messengers. I hinted to Ned and his mother that I knew all about it.’

  ‘Hah! I bet that put the fear of God into them. So you resorted to blackmail.’

  Mother looked shocked. ‘Of course not. How could you say such a thing, Finn?’

  ‘Then what?’ I asked.

  ‘Well, I suppose Ned thought that was my intention, but I made it clear to him that we Gunnersens would never betray a fellow Norwegian. And I pointed out to him that seeing as the Gestapo hadn’t come knocking on his door, you hadn’t told them it was him who’d handed you the satchel.’

  ‘I see. How did you know I wouldn’t tell?’

  ‘Oh, Finn. Of course you wouldn’t. I’m your mother. I know you better than you think.’

  ‘I was tempted, though,’ I muttered under my breath.

  ‘But you didn’t, did you?’ she said. ‘And I’m proud of you for that. Your father would have been too.’

  I tried to picture the scene – Ned and his mother on the back foot for once. Then it struck me. ‘But how did you know it was Ned who’d passed the satchel to me?’

  ‘When Dieter came and told me what had happened to you, he mentioned seeing a very tall boy running away. So I put two and two together.’

  ‘You took one hell of a risk though, didn’t you?’ I said. ‘I mean, presumably Mr Grimmo wasn’t at home when you visited.’

  ‘No. I chose my timing wisely.’

  I looked at her. ‘Even so, what about Mrs Grimmo? Whose side is she on?’

  ‘Ours, Finn. I’ve known her since we were children at school together. We were even good friends once.’

  I examined my precious flying jacket closely. ‘Wait a minute,’ I said. ‘Ned told me he’d sold it.’

  ‘I know. Just another lie. He’d hidden it in his bedroom cupboard. Swore blind that he was going to return it eventually.’

  ‘Yeah, right.’

  I stood up and slipped my arms into the sleeves. It felt fantastic to have it back. I fastened it up.

  ‘It looks good on you, Finn,’ said Mother. ‘It reminds me of your father. You two are so alike in so many ways.’

  ‘It’s the perfect present,’ I said happily. ‘Thanks.’ I gave her a hug. I had barely anything to remind myself of Father. But now I had his jacket back. ‘I don’t suppose Ned was too happy about handing it over.’

  ‘Not at first,’ Mother replied. ‘But by the time I’d finished, I think it had finally sunk in that what he’d done was deadly serious. He knew your life was in the balance. I think guilt began consuming him to the point he was glad to be rid of it. His mother even suggested that Ned hand himself in. Or at least tell the Germans that he’d simply found the satchel and fled when stopped by a German patrol.’

  ‘But he didn’t, did he?’

  ‘No, Finn. I forbade it. Had he confessed to the Germans, I reckon he’d be signing his own death warrant, and under interrogation he would probably have betrayed others. I don’t think for a moment they would have believed his story. And more to the point, whatever he said about denying your involvement, the Germans probably wouldn’t have believed that either. Instead, I suggested to Mrs Grimmo that she and Ned persuade Mr Grimmo to speak to the authorities on your behalf, like last time, after the incident with Hauptmann. He has influence.’

  ‘And did she?’

  ‘Yes. I also suggested they got him to tell the Germans that imprisoning boys was a bad move; that public opinion would turn even more against the occupation. We all know the Germans fear civil unrest and direct action by disgruntled Norwegians, so any gesture of goodwill, like releasing you, would calm the streets. And, of course, Mr Grimmo was to indicate your innocence.’

  ‘Wow!’ I was impressed by Mother’s success. ‘So I even have Mr Grimmo to thank. And he still has no idea that Ned’s on our side.’ I laughed at the very idea.

  ‘That’s right. Ned’s stepfather is the only fascist in that family.’ She ran her fingers through my hair again. ‘You’ve had a lucky escape, Finn. You do realize that, don’t you? I couldn’t bear to see anything happen to you.’

  As we walked home along the shore and Oslo charged back and forth, I let it all sink in. Approaching home, we
parted company as Mother headed for the Larsons’ house. She wanted to pass on the news about Mr Naerog. Oslo and I trudged up our street alone.

  Having put Oslo back in the woodshed, I headed indoors but stopped abruptly just one step inside our kitchen. Dieter was leaning against the stove. Anna was standing next to him with her back to me. He had never been allowed inside our house before. At least, not as far as I knew. I was startled more than anything. So were they! Anna twisted round sharply. Her expression was full of more than just surprise – it was a furtive, guilty, anxious look all wrapped up in one. She forced a smile. ‘Finn! Didn’t know you’d gone out.’

  Dieter stared blankly at me for a second. It was as if he was trying to figure out whether I’d been spying on them. Then his expression softened and a broad grin broke out on his face. He walked over to me and examined my jacket closely.

  ‘That’s a fine flying jacket, Finn,’ he said. ‘Not dissimilar to my own.’

  ‘Father gave it to me,’ I said.

  He took a step back, folded his arms and nodded approvingly. ‘It suits you. I suppose you’ll want to follow in your father’s footsteps and train to become a pilot too?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I went flying with him all the time.’

  Anna set about brewing some fresh coffee while I sat down uneasily. ‘Where’s Mother?’ she asked.

  ‘Gone to visit a neighbour,’ I replied. ‘She’ll be back soon.’

  Dieter plonked himself on a chair beside me. ‘You look none the worse for your ordeal,’ he said, examining me. ‘The SS didn’t hurt you, did they?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘Thank God for that at least. I’m glad you’re all right, Finn.’

  ‘I should thank you,’ I said. ‘For what you did for me.’

  ‘Well, you were innocent, weren’t you?’

  He said it like he’d have done exactly the same whoever it was. But I wondered if he’d only made the effort because I was Anna’s brother. Had I been just anybody, would I still be languishing in the fortress?

  Anna poured out the coffee and sat down. We chatted a while, or rather they did. It all seemed so nice and cosy, so natural, three friends together. Three friends, pah! Sure, I owed Dieter for baling me out, but it ended there. His uniform, his allegiance determined that. He’s the enemy, I kept telling myself. And anyway, what was he doing here? The question circled in my head. Was it out of concern for me? I thought back to what Mother had said about him – that Anna seemed to extract information from him far too easily.

  ‘So it’s your birthday soon,’ Dieter said to me.

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Sixteen, isn’t it? I expect you’ll be doing something special, won’t you? I did on mine. Flew for the first time, in fact. My father arranged it for me.’

  ‘Yeah, well, seeing as I haven’t got a father any more, I’ll just have to think of something else, won’t I?’ I replied bitterly.

  Dieter swallowed hard. ‘I’m sorry, Finn. That was unforgivable. I-I-I wasn’t thinking.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ said Anna. ‘It’s easily done. We’ve got used to it.’

  ‘No we haven’t!’ I snapped. ‘This jacket is all I have left.’ I leaped up from my chair. Dieter did likewise. We faced each other. ‘And while you’re here, Dieter,’ I added sharply, ‘maybe you’d like to call in on Mrs Naerog on your way home. She only lives a couple of streets away. At the bakery. You can’t miss it.’

  He frowned at me as if I’d gone mad.

  ‘What are you on about, Finn?’ asked Anna.

  The anger inside me rose to boiling point. ‘You can try to explain to her precisely why her husband won’t be coming home from the fortress. Why last Thursday he was marched outside, stood up against a wall and shot.’

  ‘Finn, what are you saying? What are you on about?’ asked Anna.

  I glared at her. ‘I witnessed it with my very own eyes. I saw Mr Naerog and two other men executed.’

  The blood drained from her face.

  Dieter slumped back down onto his chair and shook his head. ‘I didn’t know,’ he said. The room fell silent. Then he turned to me and added, ‘Finn, you mustn’t think that we’re all the same, because we’re not. Please, you must believe me.’

  ‘Must I? And just how am I supposed to tell you apart?’ I replied. ‘All I see are uniforms. And by the way, something else you should know. When the SS questioned me, they seemed very interested in you, Dieter. Kept asking me questions about you.’

  Suddenly he looked frightened. I could sense him thinking at breakneck speed, trying to figure something out. His eyes darted wildly from side to side. ‘You’d better go, Dieter,’ said Anna. She grabbed hold of his arm. ‘It’s for the best. Come on, I’ll show you out.’

  While Anna led Dieter into the hall, I sat trembling. I was about to explode. The front door clicked shut. I sprang to my feet, ran past Anna, hammered upstairs to my bedroom and slammed the door shut.

  I sat on the edge of my bed for a while, and then had a thought. I got up and rolled back the heavy rug that had covered my bedroom floor for as long as I could remember. Using the long blade of my hunting knife, I lifted a loosened floorboard. Underneath it I’d hidden a small tobacco tin. About four inches square, it was the perfect size. What lay inside always set my pulse racing. I popped open the lid, tipped it upside down and let the contents drop into my other hand. There it was, safe and sound, my most precious possession, still neatly wrapped in tissue paper to protect it.

  Carefully I peeled back the delicate layers one by one. It glistened in the light. Cast in bronze, the medal was a simple cross. At its centre lay a shield bearing an upright lion holding an axe. Attached to the medal was a striped ribbon in the colours of our flag. And pinned to the ribbon were two small bronze swords. I gazed at it. It was so fantastic. A choking lump formed in my throat and tears welled up, blurring my vision. It was the Norwegian Cross, Father’s Norwegian Cross. And the two swords meant that he had earned it twice over. Twice he had shown outstanding courage and bravery in the fight for our freedom.

  After he left for England we didn’t hear anything from him for weeks. Then a message finally got through – a long letter to Mother, and two shorter ones to Anna and me. Attached to each were tiny photographs of Father standing proudly in front of his Spitfire. As I endlessly read and re-read his words, I could hear his voice. The Spitfire looked magnificent, and Father enthused that it was so perfect when he flew it, it felt like part of him, an extension of his arms and legs, like he actually had wings. He’d joined up with a few fellow Norwegians and formed an RAF squadron flying from somewhere in southern England. I held the lid of the tin up to the light. I’d glued the small photograph to it for safekeeping. Then I got up off my knees and walked across to a mirror. I stood looking at myself, holding the medal against my chest, just above my heart. The two swords sparkled. I felt so proud and so angry. You’d think once would be enough for any country to demand of its people – one act of bravery ought to be enough, shouldn’t it? Shouldn’t it? Forget fairness, I thought. It had no place in war. I guess I felt bitter about many things, but one thought rose above them all like a towering iceberg – the second time Father had been brave, it cost him his life. All I had now was a few photographs, memories, his medal and his jacket. I wasn’t even sure how the medal got to us. It just arrived one day. Sent from England, where our king was living in exile. I thought back to the firing squad. ‘I understand now,’ I said out loud. ‘Why you went. Why you knew you had to fight. Why we all have to fight. And I shall fight too.’

  Feverishly I rummaged through the piles of books and papers littering my room. I knew it was among them somewhere. I spotted it – the folded chart, the copy I’d made of Father’s route to Britain. I unfolded it on my bed and studied it closely. England did not look very far away. Surely, somehow, I could get there. With the war still raging, the Allies needed pilots now more than ever and I could already fly. With proper training I could
have a Spitfire of my own. I closed my eyes and dreamed of following in Father’s footsteps.

  Chapter Eight

  Don’t Look Down!

  MOTHER RETURNED HOME accompanied by Loki and a rather worried-looking Mr Larson. ‘Loki’s father wants to know exactly what happened to you at the fortress, Finn, and what you saw happen to Mr Naerog,’ said Mother. ‘Are you up to it?’

  I nodded. Sitting round the kitchen table, I gave a blow-by-blow account, as best I could recall it. Loki relished all the horrible bits and seemed almost disappointed that I hadn’t survived hideous bouts of torture at the hands of the Gestapo. Finally I asked, ‘Why do you think they shot Mr Naerog?’

  Mr Larson sat back in his chair. ‘He was captured while trying to attach limpet mines to one of the patrol boats moored on the fjord, Finn.’ He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘It was quite a setback for us. Nobody can quite believe it. It was as if the Germans knew about the plan and were lying in wait.’

  ‘You think there’s a traitor in our midst?’ asked Loki.

  ‘The raid was planned to the last detail. Of course, there was always the risk of them getting caught, but the way in which it happened suggests the Germans knew everything. So yes, Loki, I fear someone’s talking.’

  ‘Who?’ I asked.

  ‘Your guess is as good as mine, Finn.’

  A few more lines of worry appeared on Mr Larson’s already furrowed brow. Mother glanced at the mantel clock and rose from her chair. ‘I’ve got to get to work,’ she said. She turned to Mr Larson. ‘It’s going to be a long evening. They plan to print the next edition of the newsletter tonight. After all that’s happened, do you want me to tell them to delay it?’

  ‘It’s their decision, Frieda,’ he replied to Mother. ‘Our intelligence reports indicate that the Germans are closing in and may be planning a raid. On the other hand, the fact that Finn’s been released, and no one else arrested, suggests that maybe their investigations have reached a dead end.’

  ‘Or perhaps they released Finn hoping that we might lower our guard,’ said Loki.

  ‘It’s a possibility. My best advice is that they don’t print and instead think about moving the equipment to another location as soon as possible.’