had got into their bunker. The lice had saved them.
They had lice everywhere, but particularly in
warm places, such as under the arms, under the
belt, around the crotch and ankles. Gud-brand, who
lay nearest to the door, hadn’t been able to sleep
because of what they called louse sores on his legs
– open sores which could be the size of a small
coin, the edges of which were thick with lice
feeding. Gudbrand had taken out his bayonet in a
futile attempt to scrape them away when the
Russian stood in the doorway to let loose with his
gun. Gudbrand had only seen his silhouette, but
knew instantly it was an enemy when he saw the
outline of a Mosin–Nagant rifle being raised. With
just the blunt bayonet Gudbrand had sliced the
Russian’s neck so expertly that he was drained of
blood when they carried him out into the snow
afterwards.
‘Calm down, boys,’ Edvard said, pulling
Gudbrand to one side. ‘You should go and get
some sleep, Gudbrand. You were relieved an hour
ago.’
‘I’ll go out and look for him,’ Gudbrand said.
‘No, you won’t,’ Edvard said.
‘Yes, I will, I —’
‘That’s an order!’ Edvard shook his shoulder.
Gudbrand tried to break free, but the section leader
held him in a tight grip.
Gudbrand’s voice went higher and quivered with
desperation; ‘Perhaps he’s wounded! Perhaps he’s
caught on the barbed wire!’
Edvard patted him on the shoulder. ‘It’ll soon be
light,’ he said. ‘Then we can find out what
happened.’
He shot a quick glance at the others, who had
followed the scene in silence. They began to stamp
their feet in the snow and mutter to each other.
Gudbrand saw Edvard go over to Hallgrim Dale
and whisper a few words in his ear. Dale listened
and glowered at Gudbrand. Gudbrand knew very
well what it meant. It was an order to keep an eye
on him. A while ago now, someone had spread a
rumour that he and Daniel were more than simply
good friends. And that they couldn’t be trusted.
Mosken had asked straight out if they were
planning to desert together. Of course they had
denied this, but Mosken probably thought now that
Daniel had used the opportunity to make a run for
it. And that Gudbrand would ‘look for’ his
comrade as part of the plan to go over to the other
side together. It made Gudbrand laugh. True
enough, dreaming about the wonderful promise of
food, warmth and women the Russian loudspeakers
spewed out over the barren battlefield in
ingratiating German was attractive, but to believe
it?
‘Shall we take a bet on whether he comes back?’
That was Sindre. ‘Three food rations. What do you
say?’
Gudbrand put his arms down by his sides and
could feel the bayonet hanging from the belt inside
his camouflage uniform.
‘ Nicht schießen, bitte! ’
Gudbrand spun round and there, right above his
head, he saw a ruddy face beneath a Russian cap
smiling down at him from the edge of the trench.
Then the man swung down over the edge and
performed a soft Telemark landing on the ice.
‘Daniel!’ Gudbrand shouted.
‘Da da da dum!’ Daniel sang, doffing the Russian
cap. ‘ Dobry vyecher.’ The men stood rooted to the
spot, staring at him. ‘Hey, Edvard,’ Daniel
shouted. ‘You’d better tighten things up with our
Dutch friends. They’ve got at least fifty metres
between the listening posts over there.’
Edvard was as silent and stunned as the others.
‘Did you bury the Russian, Daniel?’ Gudbrand’s
face was shiny with excitement.
‘Bury him?’ Daniel said. ‘I even read the Lord’s
Prayer and sang to him. Are you hard of hearing or
something? I’m sure they heard it on the other
side.’
Then he jumped up on to the top edge of the
trench, sat with his arms raised in the air and began
to sing in a deep, warm voice: ‘A mighty fortress
is our God . . .’
The men cheered and Gudbrand laughed so much
he had tears in his eyes.
‘You devil, Daniel!’ Dale exclaimed. ‘Not
Daniel . . . Call me . . .’ Daniel took off the
Russian cap and read the name on the inside of the
lining. ‘Uriah. He could bloody write as well.
Well, well, but he was still a Bolshevik.’
He jumped down from the edge and looked
around him. ‘No one has any objections to a
common Jewish name, I hope?’
Total silence followed for a moment before the
outburst of laughter came. Then the first of the men
went over to slap him on the back.
10
Leningrad. 31 December 1942.
IT WAS COLD IN THE MACHINE-GUN POST. GUDBRAND