The Redbreast(20)

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