Hans saw where I was pointing to, retrieved the map and indicated the location to Dieter. I held my breath. I’d pointed to a spot deep in the restricted zone, not far from where Jack had drawn his question mark. Dieter and Hans looked at each other for what seemed for ever, before Dieter turned round and shouted, ‘That’s in the restricted zone!’
I felt crushed. I couldn’t hide my disappointment. Dieter clearly saw it.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know. Is the whole area restricted?’ I said, trying to sound as innocent as I could.
‘I’ll tell you what,’ said Dieter. ‘We’ll circle and fly in from the east. That way we’ll avoid most of the restricted area. We’ll have to increase our altitude, so you might not be able to see much on the ground. Is that OK? It’s the best we can do.’
I nodded. ‘Thanks,’ I replied.
Hans showed me his chart again. ‘Is it down in the valley or up on the hillside?’
‘On the hillside. Somewhere over there,’ I said, pointing to the southern slopes. ‘I remember it gets the morning sun.’
Hans gave me a thumbs-up. ‘We might get lucky, Finn.’
I turned in my seat to see Loki’s reaction. He puffed out his cheeks and pretended to wipe sweat from his brow. Then he gave me a thumbs-up too and grinned. ‘Keep your eyes peeled,’ I whispered loudly. He nodded.
Patiently we waited as Dieter did a series of turns that took us away from the fjord and up over the mountaintops. The reddish afternoon sun hung low in the clear sky and made the rugged, snowy slopes look like they were on fire. Twisted awkwardly in my seat, and with my nose pressed against the glass, I soon became transfixed by the beauty of our country, and quite lost track of time. Only when, without warning, the pitch of the engine note fell and I felt the plane descend did I remove my nose from the glass and look forward. Hans had turned in his seat and, holding up his chart, was pointing to the valley. He was talking but I couldn’t hear him. I pinched my nose and puffed out my cheeks. My ears popped and everything suddenly grew twice as loud. ‘We’re at the head of the valley!’ he shouted. ‘Keep looking for the next five minutes and try not to blink in case you miss it. We’ll fly as low as we dare.’
Loki and I feigned unnatural concentration, pretending to scour the mountainsides as if looking deep into every crevice, beyond every shadow, and under every boulder. My heart began drumming. We were just minutes away from the Foettenfjord, minutes away from Jack’s circle and question mark. But there was no sign of any mountain huts.
Loki leaned forward in his seat, reached past my shoulder and pointed. ‘That’s the Foettenfjord, Finn,’ he said, his lips inches from my right ear.
I too saw the glint of sun on the waters of the fjord. It looked like a fabulous, shimmering streak of silver. I turned in my seat and beckoned Loki to lean forward to within earshot of my whisper, then said, ‘Get ready, and look out to our right.’ He nodded. I turned and pressed my nose against the glass again. Either it was getting colder inside the plane, or my breath was warmer, because the glass instantly fogged up. I hurriedly wiped it with my sleeve and peered down towards the surface. The fjord was narrow, barely a mile wide. Steep, grey cliffs hugged both sides. It was hard to make out the detail. Our altitude was too great. In my head I was trying to match our position with Jack’s maps. The plane held a steady course. I wished we were lower, skipping over the glistening waves. The light was fading quickly too. Damn it, I thought. It was hopeless. I couldn’t make out a thing.
At first my gaze drifted over it. It looked like nothing more than a long, narrow, grey sliver of rock lying just offshore, no different from any other of the hundreds of tiny islands fit only for nesting seabirds. But for some unfathomable reason my eyes kept returning to it. There was something about the shape. It looked too regular, too symmetrical, too torpedo-like to be natural. I twisted in my seat and saw Loki had spotted it too. Straining our necks, we both peered down onto the greyness below. ‘Jesus, Finn, it’s a ship. A bloody great big battleship!’
Unlikely though it was amid the howl of the engines, I worried that Dieter or Hans might have overheard Loki’s outburst, and so I peered forwards. To my relief, they were both gazing straight ahead.
I returned to staring at our discovery. They’d covered the battleship with camouflage nets. You had to look really hard to make her out. Only when my eyes adjusted could I distinguish her gun turrets and barrels. She looked so smooth from our position. If we were much higher up, we’d never make her out at all. No wonder they threatened to shoot anyone caught in the restricted zone. I scanned the shore and mountainsides and realized that what had once been almost total wilderness now showed distinct signs of occupation. There were brick buildings. A road wound its way along the shore. Above, on outcrops and highpoints, lay circular, greyish structures. The camouflage was pretty convincing but had not escaped Jack’s eye or pen. I recalled the marks he’d made on his maps. We’d been right – anti-aircraft batteries.
A tap on my shoulder made me jump out of my skin. Hans had twisted round in his seat and was staring at us. He must have seen Loki and me both peering down at the battleship. I felt a surge of panic well up inside and suddenly felt sick. He just stared at me. With his leather flying helmet on and mouthpiece strapped in place, I had no idea what his expression was underneath. Was he furious? I couldn’t tell. All I could see was his cold blue eyes.
Loki grabbed my shoulder, leaned forward and pointed out of the other side of the plane. ‘There, Finn. See it? Up on that ridge. There, just to the right of that steep slope. A hut.’
I saw it. A small wooden hut, its pitched roof straining under a thick wedge of snow. Excitedly I waved at Hans and pointed. ‘Quickly,’ I shouted. ‘Look. It’s there, down there. Thank you. Mother will be so happy.’ I smiled at him. He returned the faintest of nods to me before twisting round and entering into conversation with Dieter, a conversation I couldn’t overhear and during which they exchanged several glances.
Had we got away with it? I knew that the hut we’d pointed out lay on the wrong side of the valley. In fact, it was nowhere near where I’d pointed to on the chart. I whispered my concerns to Loki.
‘Say you made a mistake,’ he whispered back.
Yes, I thought, a mistake. My heart was pounding and my hands felt all cold and sweaty. For the first time since we’d taken off, I felt afraid. Really afraid. Knowing the Germans’ secret could prove extremely dangerous. I sat back in my seat, closed my eyes and prayed.
We landed at dusk, smacking the water so hard it jarred my spine. We bounced several times like a pebble skimming across the surface of a pond. Finally she settled in the water, the propellers whipping up the surface into a frenzy of spray. Dieter headed for the jetty and arc lights bathing the shore.
Feeling a little unsteady on my feet as I clambered down the ladder, I desperately wanted to get home. I wanted to tell Mother, Anna and Mr Larson what we’d seen. I thought of Jack’s maps and decided that I’d annotate them with our discoveries. Then I’d tell Mr Larson that I hadn’t destroyed them, that they really were of the greatest importance – that we just had to find a way of getting them to England. That battleship was awesome, a huge floating death machine. Unless it was destroyed, it would be responsible for sinking tens, maybe hundreds of Allied ships, and with them thousands of sailors.
Although I fizzed with excitement, I was also worried. Why would Dieter risk taking us there? What was he thinking? Did he figure we’d be so busy looking for the hut that we wouldn’t see the ship? Or that if we did, the camouflage would fool us?
A hand slapped me heartily on my back. ‘So, Finn, what did you make of her?’
‘Fantastic,’ I said. ‘Thanks, Dieter. The perfect birthday present.’
We stood for a few moments admiring his aircraft. Last to leave the plane, Hans deftly slid down the ladder with all the skill and balance of a circus monkey. He hopped from the float to the jetty and strode purposefully towards us.
‘So, my f
riends, you must stay and have a drink with us,’ said Dieter.
‘Thank you, but no,’ I replied. ‘It’s getting late. We really must be heading home.’
‘Nonsense. You must come and meet the squadron leader.’
He tore off his flying helmet and ruffled his damp hair with his fingers. ‘Follow me. I insist.’ He struck off towards the Officers’ Mess with Hans close behind.
‘Do you think he knows that we saw the ship?’ fretted Loki.
‘Shush, not so loud. I don’t know. Hans saw us looking down at it. But, if he does, Dieter doesn’t seem overly worried. Listen, if they ask anything, act the idiot. Just shrug like you don’t understand what they’re on about. We saw nothing. OK?’
‘Yeah, Finn, of course. But I don’t get it.’
‘Get what?’
‘Dieter could have flown a different route. I mean, he could easily have avoided the Foettenfjord.’
‘Maybe it’s because we’re just kids,’ I replied.
He shook his head. In truth, I didn’t believe me either.
* * *
Leaving behind the cold, crisp evening air, we entered the Officers’ Mess, walking straight into a wall of warm, moist fug. Above tables hung wisps of cigarette smoke like the vapour trails in the aftermath of some frenetic aerial dogfight. Raised voices and drunken laughter rang in my ears. There must have been at least forty men inside the hut, and all seemed hell-bent on having a good time. A tune struck out from a piano on the far side, and a semicircle of men surrounding it broke out into an accompanying chorus, their beer glasses swaying rhythmically.
Hans found a free table and shouted for drinks to be delivered at once. A rather hassled waitress duly arrived with four tall beer glasses, banging each of them down, slopping the frothy heads all over the table. I figured she was a local girl, and her job wasn’t one that gave her much satisfaction, though being pretty, she must have drawn a lot of unwanted attention. She threw Loki and me a look of what I can only describe as profound surprise. Dieter seized a glass and held it up in the air. ‘A toast, I think. A belated happy birthday, Finn, and here’s to a quick end to this wretched war. Prost!’
We raised our glasses to our lips. ‘Skål!’ shouted Loki.
‘Skål!’ I said with somewhat less enthusiasm. We drank together. At least, Dieter and Hans did, sinking their beers in a few gulps. Loki tried to match them, but ended up coughing and spluttering his lungs out. I took just a few sips. I wanted a clear head. After all, we were in the enemy’s den. Loki extracted a cigarette from Hans and added his bit to the growing haze. Dieter placed himself centre-stage at our table and talked incessantly about flying. We listened attentively. Eventually he paused for breath.
Loki sat back in his chair and blew a perfect smoke ring. ‘It was nice of you to take us up,’ he said. ‘But if you don’t mind me asking, why are you so keen to fraternize with the enemy?’
Dieter burst out laughing. ‘Listen, one day soon this awful war will be over,’ he declared. ‘Things will be different then. You’ll see. Anyway, I don’t think of you as the enemy. In fact, a great future awaits boys like you, who love to fly. We’re always on the lookout for new recruits, for those with the right aptitude. We’re thinking of starting some sort of Flying Corps, to encourage people like you.’
Good answer, I thought, although I didn’t believe a word of it. He spoke like life would return to normal. Somehow I couldn’t see a German victory in Europe stemming the flow of good Norwegian men and women to the labour camps. Heimar always said that defeat would lead to a thousand years of repression, tyranny and slavery. That’s why he said he’d never give up the struggle. I wanted to tell Dieter to make the most of today, because tomorrow, or someday very soon, good would prevail, and he’d be on the receiving end for once. In reality I said nothing, not wanting to ruin a good afternoon. In fact, I played along. ‘Gosh, you think we’d be good enough to join the Luftwaffe?’
Loki balked in horror at the very suggestion. He choked on his beer and coughed and spluttered until his face went bright red. Hans walloped him on his back, and that seemed to do the trick.
‘Reckon so.’ Dieter leaned forward in his chair. ‘I think flying is in your blood—’
Hans interrupted. ‘I know you just think of us as the enemy, but see it from our point of view. We didn’t ask to be here. We’re just doing our jobs. We fly reconnaissance missions, that’s all. We don’t fly in anger. But if we did, then we’d fight with honour. We’re a breed apart. We’re different from the army and navy, the SS and Gestapo. We have our own rules and code of conduct. We treat other pilots with equal respect whichever side they’re fighting on.’
‘Yeah, right,’ said Loki, into his half-empty glass.
‘No, really.’ Hans waved across the room to a dark-haired man sitting at a distant table. ‘Jurgen!’ he shouted. ‘Come and tell these boys about the British pilot you shot down and captured near the beaches of northern France.’
Using two empty beer glasses as props and poorly spoken Norwegian, Jurgen explained how he’d outwitted a young Spitfire pilot, using a looping manoeuvre in his Messerschmitt to get onto the tail of his foe. ‘He crashed into a field but survived by baling out just in time,’ he said. ‘We captured the young man later that afternoon and brought him back to our airfield.’
‘What did you do with him?’ prompted Hans.
‘Cleaned him up and gave him some brandy. Bit shaken, of course. Said he couldn’t tell us anything useful and we decided to believe him.’
‘Did you torture him?’ asked Dieter. He placed two fingers against his left temple. ‘Did you hold a pistol to his head? Pull his nails off? Yank his teeth out?’
Jurgen laughed. ‘Of course not. Invited him for dinner with the rest of my squadron. It was a fine evening.’
‘And then what?’ I asked.
‘Did the decent thing. Made sure we sent him to a prisoner-of-war camp where he’d be treated properly.’
‘Exactly right!’ Dieter shouted, slamming his hand against the tabletop. He nudged me. ‘Of course, they should have handed him over to the Gestapo or the SS.’
‘That’s right, we should have, but we didn’t,’ said Jurgen. ‘We’re airmen, for God’s sake, not animals!’
A warm, satisfied smile filled Hans’s face. ‘There, what did I tell you, Finn? We airmen have a bond that rises above and beyond all this warring nonsense.’
Another tray of beers arrived but I declined. I glanced at my watch – five thirty. It was getting late and I wanted to go home. I figured once we’d met his squadron leader, Dieter would let us be on our way. ‘Where’s your Staffel Kapitän?’ I asked.
He looked about and frowned. ‘Doesn’t seem to be here,’ he said. ‘I’ll go and find out if he’s in his office.’ He got up from the table, stretched wearily and wandered off to the end of the Mess, disappearing through a door. Hans turned in his chair and struck up a conversation with men on a nearby table. I found myself peering around the room. If Father could see me now, I thought. Would he approve? Did he know of that so-called code of honour among pilots? Did he believe in it? Somehow I doubted it, imagining it was the furthest thing from his mind as his Spitfire burst into flames. He’d not crashed and survived. He’d not been invited to dinner with the enemy. He’d not been treated like someone special.
Loki stubbed out his cigarette and leaned across the table towards me. ‘Finn,’ he said, barely above the room’s hubbub. He beckoned me closer.
‘What?’ I replied.
‘What was it you said the other day about that penguin and a telescope?’ he whispered into my ear.
‘Why?’
He pointed over my shoulder towards the main door we’d entered through. ‘See that above the door?’
I turned and looked. Above the entrance hung a shield with a picture of a penguin carrying a telescope beneath his wing. For a moment I was struck dumb. Penguin and a telescope! My brain buzzed.
Dieter returned, accompani
ed by a rather upright, stiff-looking man in his late thirties dressed in a smart uniform bearing the Iron Cross. They were arguing heatedly but both ceased talking the moment they reached our table. Hans rose to his feet, clacked his heels together and saluted. ‘These are the two boys,’ said Dieter, ‘Finn Gunnersen and Loki …’
‘Larson,’ my friend said. He held out a hand, which the officer ignored.
‘This is my Staffel Kapitän,’ Dieter added, his tone betraying his unease. He gave Hans a pained look.
The squadron leader was clearly agitated about something. He peered at both of us enquiringly. I wondered what he was thinking. Dieter stood behind him and mouthed something to Hans. For his part, Hans remained calm, even when the squadron leader began bellowing at him. He spoke too quickly for me to grasp everything, but I caught the repeated use of words like verboten and Schwierigkeiten. They were in trouble. We were in trouble. It brought a hush to the room. Hans frowned, shrugged, and then offered a reply to the barrage of sharp questioning in German, spoken slowly enough for me to fully understand. They had indeed flown us into the restricted zone, he told his squadron leader, but contrary to reports from some spotter plane or other, had not flown along the Foettenfjord. The other pilot must simply have mistaken our plane for another. Hans finished by suggesting that the squadron leader ask Loki and me where we’d been and what we’d seen.
The squadron leader did. In Norwegian he said, ‘So, I trust you enjoyed your flight?’ We both nodded enthusiastically. ‘Tell me, where did you go?’
‘Not far,’ I said. ‘We just did a couple of circuits and flew over our homes. Oh, and we did fly past an old mountain hut we own.’ I saw Dieter cringe and then, having caught my eye, he shook his head at me.
‘And where was this mountain hut? Was it anywhere near the Åsenfjord or Foettenfjord?’
I shook my head vehemently. I think it was exactly what Dieter wanted me to do. ‘No, nowhere near there. The views were fantastic,’ I added.
‘I see.’ The squadron leader gave Hans and Dieter each a curious look. I think he doubted their version of events, but as I’d confirmed it, his hands were tied. The matter could go no further. He shook hands with both Loki and me, told us he was glad we’d had a great day, and then marched off back to his office. The hush in the room soon gave way to talk and laughter, and Hans and Dieter returned to their chairs.
Dogfight Page 23
