heads that the Russians were releasing hares in
front of the trenches to tempt men out into no man’s
land. As if the Russians would voluntarily give
away a hare!
Gudbrand fingered his sore lips and looked at his
watch. One hour left to the next watch. He
suspected that Sindre had been shoving tobacco up
his rectum to give himself a temperature; he was
the sort who would do that.
‘Why did you move home from the US?’ Daniel
asked.
‘Wall Street Crash. My father lost his job at the
shipyard.’
‘There you are,’ Daniel said. ‘That’s capitalism
for you. The small guys slog away while the rich
get fatter whether it’s boom time or a slump.’
‘Well, that’s the way it is.’
‘That’s how it’s been so far, but there’ll be
changes now. When we win the war, Hitler’s got a
little surprise up his sleeve for the people. And
your father won’t need to worry any more about
being unemployed. You should join the Nasjonal
Samling.’
‘Do you really believe in all that?’
‘Don’t you?’
Gudbrand didn’t like to contradict Daniel so he
answered with a shrug of his shoulders, but Daniel
repeated the question.
‘Of course I believe in it,’ Gudbrand said. ‘But
most of all I think about Norway. About not having
to have Bolsheviks in the country. If they come,
we’ll definitely go back to America.’
‘To a capitalist country?’ Daniel’s voice had
become a little sharper now. ‘A democracy in the
hands of the wealthy, left to chance and corrupt
leaders?’
‘I’d rather that than communism.’
‘Democracies have outlived their use, Gudbrand.
Just look at Europe. England and France, they were
going to the dogs long before the war began:
unemployment, exploitation. There are only two
people strong enough to stop Europe’s nosedive
into chaos now: Hitler and Stalin. That’s the
choice we have. A sister nation or barbarians.
There’s almost no one at home who seems to have
understood what good luck it was for us that the
Germans came first and not Stalin’s butchers.’
Gudbrand nodded. It wasn’t only what Daniel
said, it was the way he said it. With such
conviction.
All of a sudden all hell broke loose and the sky in
front of them was white with flares, the ground
shook and yellow flashes were followed by brown
earth and snow which seemed to launch themselves
into the air where the shells fell.
Gudbrand already lay at the bottom of the trench
with his hands over his head, but the whole thing
was over as quickly as it had begun. He looked up
and there, back behind the trench, behind the
machine gun, Daniel was roaring with laughter.
‘What are you doing?’ Gudbrand shouted. ‘Use
the siren! Get everyone up!’
But Daniel paid no attention. ‘My dear old
friend,’ he shouted with tears of laughter in his
eyes. ‘Happy New Year!’
Daniel pointed to his watch and then it dawned on
Gudbrand. Daniel had obviously been waiting for
the Russians’ New Year salute, because now he
stuck his hand down in the snow which had been
piled up against the sentry post to hide the machine
gun.
‘Brandy,’ he shouted, triumphantly raising into the
air a bottle containing a heel of brown liquid. ‘I’ve
saved this for more than three months. Help
yourself.’
Gudbrand had crawled up on to his knees and
smiled at Daniel.
‘You first,’ Gudbrand shouted.
‘Sure?’
‘Absolutely sure, old friend. You saved it up. But
don’t drink it all!’ Daniel hit the side of the cork
until it came out and raised the bottle.
‘To Leningrad. In spring we’ll be toasting each
other in the Winter Palace,’ he proclaimed and
took off his Russian cap. ‘And by summer we’ll be
home, hailed as heroes in our beloved Norway.’
He put the bottle to his lips and threw back his
head. The brown liquid gurgled and danced in the
neck of the bottle. It twinkled as the glass reflected
the light from the sinking flares, and in the years to
come Gudbrand would ponder whether it was that
the Russian sniper saw: the gleam from the bottle.
The next moment Gudbrand heard a high-pitched
popping noise and saw the bottle explode in
Daniel’s hands. There was a shower of glass and
brandy and Gudbrand closed his eyes. He could
feel his face was wet; it ran down his cheeks and
instinctively he stuck out his tongue to catch a
couple of drops. It tasted of almost nothing, just
alcohol and something else – something sweet and