by Kris Tualla
Maybe this time he’ll listen.
*****
Kyle turned over in bed again. Sleep eluded her tonight, because every time she closed her eyes she saw Private Kossin’s impossibly twisted leg and profusely bleeding head. She didn’t think she had a weak constitution—she was a farm girl, after all, and had seen animals butchered her whole life.
But it’s different when it’s a human being.
Of course, thinking of the injured private made her think of Tor Hansen, holding the injured soldier on his back, skiing straight to where the medics were, and skillfully coming to a dramatic stop right in front of them.
And thinking of Tor Hansen reminded her that she hadn’t finished the letter to Erik yet. What was she going to say? Everything interesting that happened here was centered on the man she was assigned to translate for—and the captain, whom she passionately kissed, was the last thing she wanted to write to Erik about.
Damn.
She rolled over to lie on her back and stared at the ceiling in the dark.
“Can you please be still?” Marguerite mumbled from the other bed. “Your stupid bed springs keep waking me up.”
“Sorry.” I’ll try.
“Man problems?”
“What else,” Kyle admitted.
Marguerite heaved a resigned sigh. “Want to talk about it?”
She did, actually. “I’m having trouble writing letters to Erik that aren’t full of Captain Hansen stories…”
Marguerite leaned up on one elbow. “What’s up with you two, anyway?”
Kyle huffed. “Which two?”
“You and the Norse God.”
Kyle rolled her eyes though Marguerite couldn’t see. “Nothing, really.”
“That’s not what it looked like.” Marguerite’s tone scolded her. “Be honest.”
“I am,” Kyle insisted. “I’m engaged to Erik, and I’m going back home in thirteen months. Tor’s either going to Italy with the Americans or back to Norway. Depends on how the war goes, I guess.”
“But—”
“The point is,” Kyle interrupted. “Whatever silliness we play at here will hopefully rescue him from all the women who go sniffing after him.”
“Because he’s apparently taken.”
“Right.”
Marguerite laid back down and was quiet for a while. Kyle wondered if she’d fallen back to sleep, so when she spoke again Kyle startled.
“Here’s the problem with that. First of all, with all that kissing you’re likely to fall hard for the Norse God.”
“Stop calling him that,” Kyle grumbled.
“And secondly, that plan’s not going to keep anyone away.”
Kyle frowned at the ceiling. “Why not?”
“Because…” Marguerite chuckled. “Any woman with eyes in her head is going to claw yours out to get to him.”
Marguerite’s bed creaked as she turned over to face the wall.
“Sweet dreams.”
Chapter
Thirteen
January 15, 1944
Kyle stifled a yawn while she and Tor waited to see Major General Jones. She slept poorly last night once she finally drifted off—and then she dreamt that she was awake.
But Tor had a worse night than she did, and it showed. The captain had dark smudges under his eyes and his face was pale under his skier’s tan.
When she picked him up this morning he told her about falling asleep at the hospital, awaking in the middle of the night, sneaking into the ward to see Kossin, and his cryptic conversation with the nurse on duty.
Then he told her about literally running into Dale Maple near the POWs, and following that man’s tracks to the fence.
“When I finish today, we have to talk to Jones,” he insisted. “Maybe this time I can convince him to investigate.”
Kyle was impressed that Tor was still going to train his men today, considering yesterday’s frightening accident.
“I have to,” he said between sips of black coffee. “It’ll be much worse in battle. They can’t let anything like this shake their confidence.”
That made sense.
“Besides that, it’s too difficult to reschedule our time on the peaks.” He set his cup down and rubbed his eyes before he continued. “With six dozen instructors and thirty-five platoons training, it gets crazy at times.”
Jones’s door opened and a major exited the office. He pointed at Tor and Kyle while he addressed the secretary.
“The General says to give him two minutes and then send them in.”
*****
“So what is this about?” Jones asked as soon as Tor and Kyle sat down.
“Captain Hansen encountered Private Dale Maple last night leaving the POW area at approximately two in the morning,” Kyle explained. “He followed Private Maple’s tracks back and they led to the compound’s fence where, judging by the tracks in the new snow, it appeared that Maple met with at least two of the prisoners.”
Satisfied with Kyle’s distillation of what he told her, Tor watched Jones’s expression.
The general frowned. “And why was Captain Hansen in that area at such a suspicious hour?”
That reaction was not what Tor expected.
Kyle turned to Tor and translated the question. “What should I say?”
“Tell him what I told you about the hospital.”
Kyle faced Jones again and did so, though Tor noticed she added a little embellishment about how heroic his actions were and how deeply he cared for the men under his command.
Tor bit his tongue to keep from smiling.
“I do appreciate all that Captain Hansen did under the circumstances, Lieutenant.” Jones folded his hands on his desktop. “But I’m still not clear about why he went to the POW compound.”
Tor waited for Kyle to translate, then said, “Tell him that I’ve visited that area frequently, hoping to overhear the Germans talk about their plans again.”
Since he ignored my last report.
Jones grunted. “And has he heard anything new?”
Kyle checked her answer with him before she spoke. “Not until last night.”
“But he didn’t actually hear anything—he only ran into Private Maple exiting the area. Is that correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
Tor was seething. Why weren’t his words being trusted?
Jones looked at Tor. “While I agree that the evidence raises questions, the assumption that something covert is afoot is unsubstantiated. I will, however, have Maple interrogated.”
Tor stared at the general while Kyle translated.
“Oh don’t overexert yourself, Sir,” Tor said. Then he pulled his eyes from Jones and looked at Kyle. “Sorry. Thank him for seeing me. Us.”
*****
Kyle was going to punch Tor in the chest when he made that snide remark but the captain apologized quickly, apparently remembering that he promised not to do that to her again.
“But I don’t understand why he doesn’t take this more seriously,” he grumbled once they were outside.
“I assume it’s because he isn’t worried about anything happening.” Kyle waved a hand at the low clouds which were once again shaking their frosty flakes all over the camp. “Look around. It’s pretty secure here.”
Tor looked up at the darkening sky. “How much snow does this camp get?”
“I’m not sure,” Kyle admitted. “Thirteen or fourteen feet would be my guess.”
“Snow won’t deter the Germans.” He looked at her again and winked. “Any more than it’ll deter Norwegians.”
“Captain Hansen!”
Kyle and Tor turned toward the voice. A soldier that Kyle recognized as one of Tor’s trainees was hurrying toward them. He had several copies of the camp’s weekly newspaper folded over his arm.
He was a little out of breath when he reached them. “Did you see the Ski-Zette today?”
He handed one of the copies to Tor and one to Kyle. “You’re a hero, sir!”
Tor was staring at his own copy, his eyes moving over the page under a lowered brow.
“Let me read it to you,” Kyle said. “I can translate as I go.”
That seemed to startle him. His gaze jumped to hers and he folded the camp newspaper and tucked it under his arm.
“Yes. Please.”
Yesterday during routine downhill ski training, Private Keith Kossin of the 86th Infantry Division lost his balance and took a bad fall, breaking his right leg below the knee and cracking his head against a tree.
His commanding officer, Captain Tor Hansen from the Norwegian Army, wasted no time in reaching the unconscious soldier, and carried Kossin on his back as he skied the rest of the way down the mountain.
Medics had been alerted and were waiting to rush Kossin to the hospital where he underwent surgery to stabilize his leg. He is expected to make a full recovery, thanks in part to Captain Hansen’s heroic rescue.
The private was beaming. “We’re proud of you, sir.”
Tor gave him a humble smile. “Tusen takk.”
Kyle’s gaze shot to the captain. “Did you understand him?”
He looked at her like she was simple. “I’ve told you before, tone and expression can say as much as words. Thanking him could not have been an incorrect response.”
“No, it wasn’t,” she conceded.
“Well, I gotta go give these to the other guys.” The private saluted and Tor saluted back. “See ya tomorrow, Captain.”
“Let’s go to the mess hall and get some coffee,” Tor suggested. “Then you can read this week’s war news to me, if you don’t mind. After talking to Jones, I could stand to hear about an Allied victory or two right about now.”
Kyle nodded and pulled the collar of her coat tighter to keep the snow from falling down her neck. “Good idea, sir.”
*****
After supper, Kyle and Tor went to the hospital to see how Kossin was doing. Tor was hoping that one of Kyle’s nurse friends was on duty in Kossin’s ward so that they wouldn’t be chased out too quickly.
Luck was on his side in two ways. First, Frances Bundorf, part of Kyle’s group of friends—whom Tor labeled the Terrible Trio in his head—was head nurse in Kossin’s ward tonight. And secondly Kyle told him Frances had a boyfriend named Fred with whom the nurse was completely smitten.
This was very important information, because after the Ski-Zette came out today Tor was besieged all throughout his supper by flirtatious WACs asking him to autograph their copies.
Tor looked at Kyle while she translated the first request, wondering if she was pulling a trick to get him back for his own shenanigans. “Is she serious? She really wants me to sign the newspaper?”
Kyle looked like she was enjoying his discomfort. “You’re a famous skier. Remember?”
Taken aback at first, Tor eventually decided to save his copy and mail it to his parents.
“How’s Kossin?” Kyle asked Frances.
“Awake.” Frances held a tray of medications and pointed toward the private with her head. “But keep it brief. We don’t want him to get too exhausted. He’s got a lot of healing to do.”
“Understood,” Tor told Kyle. “I just want to find out if he remembers what happened.”
Kossin looked up at Tor through his slightly less-swollen eyes and managed a crooked grin. He saluted weakly. “Hello Captain.”
Tor sat next to the bed and Kyle stood behind him, translating quietly throughout their conversation to keep from disturbing the other patients.
“At ease, soldier.” Tor smiled. “How are you feeling?”
“I’ve been better, sir.”
“I was here last night checking on you. You’ve had the very best care they can give,” Tor assured him.
Kossin was clearly surprised by that. “You were?”
“Of course. I’m your commanding officer, Private.” Tor leaned a little closer. “I don’t want to tire you out, but can you tell me what happened? Why you fell?”
Kossin’s lips twisted. “Part of it. I don’t remember anything after I started to fall until I woke up here.”
“What do you remember?”
“The rabbit, sir.”
Tor blinked. “Rabbit?”
“Yeah. It was huge and white and it ran out of the woods right in front of me.”
“A rabbit did.” Tor wagged his head, trying to imagine the scene. “Did you hit it?”
Kossin nodded a little. “I think so. I tried not to, but that’s when everything went wrong.”
Tor was relieved that the accident was triggered by an outside force, not Kossin just screwing up.
I’ll need to add that to the training: hit the rabbit and save yourself.
Kossin turned his head a little. “Can I ask you some questions, sir?”
Tor nodded. “Of course.”
“How did I get down the mountain? I mean…” He pointed at his suspended leg with the steel pins poking out of it. “I guess I was hurt pretty bad.”
“Yes. You were.” Tor shifted in his seat planning to downplay his actions. “I used your ski poles as braces to keep your leg secured and strapped them on with Smith and Graves’ belts.”
Kossin seemed impressed. “And then?”
“And then I, uh…” Tor cleared his throat. “I carried you the rest of the way down.”
If the soldier could have opened his swollen eyes any wider, Tor thought they might have rolled out of the private’s head.
“You did? How?”
Tor shrugged. “On my back.”
“Wow,” Kossin breathed.
“It’s a basic maneuver,” Tor deflected. “Anyway, we radioed the medics so they were waiting at the bottom and they brought you here.”
He stood more quickly than he meant to, so he smiled to soften his sudden exit. “I think that’s enough for this visit, soldier. You keep healing. That’s an order.”
“One last question?”
Tor nodded. “Sure. But only one.”
“What happens to me now? I mean, with the Mountain Division?”
Good question. “You’ll come back to training when you’re able—not for months, though—and we can start again.” Tor paused. “That is, if you want to. Otherwise, I’m sure you could get a transfer to another unit somewhere.”
Kossin’s hands fisted by his side. “No, sir! I want to stay right here!”
Tor grinned. “Okay, Kossin. See you soon.”
*****
Kyle drove Tor to his barracks. “Get some sleep tonight. No more wandering around the camp. Sir.”
Tor chuckled. “I’ll say the same to you, Lieutenant. Sleep well.”
He thought about kissing her but decided not to. He didn’t want to turn their kisses into a habit—he wanted them to mean something. And he also didn’t want to prompt any physical reaction that might keep him awake.
Upstairs in his room he changed out of his uniform and went to the latrine to wash his face and brush his teeth. That done, he settled into his bed and picked up the copy of the Ski-Zette newspaper that the private gave him.
Alone in his room, he didn’t have to pretend he couldn’t read it.
Tor’s eyes grew thankfully heavy as he skimmed over the articles detailing camp happenings and schedule changes. He was about to drop the paper on the floor and switch off the light when a headline jolted him fully awake. He sat up in his bed.
Camp Hale Ski Team to compete in Salt Lake City.
Camp Hale has a ski team?
“Why don’t I know about this?” he mumbled.
Because I don’t speak English so I never get the paper.
Tor read the article twice through. The competition was twelve days away. Was it too late to join? The article didn’t say.
How could he find out?
“Torger will know,” Tor said to himself. “He�
�s probably on the team.”
Why didn’t he invite me to be on it?
Probably because as far as anyone other than his little band of five knew, he didn’t speak any English. That meant Kyle would have to travel with him. The only woman in a group of men. That situation presented more problems than it solved.
Tor made two decisions.
First, he’d find Torger Tokle tomorrow and ask him about the ski team.
Second, he’d ask Kyle to teach him English. He smiled as he put the paper away and turned off his light.
She just might discover I’m an excellent student.
Chapter
Fourteen
January 17, 1944
Tor spotted Torger the minute the man entered the mess hall. “I have to talk to Tokle,” he told Kyle as he set down his coffee cup and stood. “I’ll be right back.”
Tor wove his way through tables of rumbling conversations until he reached the ski jumper. “Can I talk to you?”
Torger shrugged. “Sure. Just let me get my tray first.”
Tor got himself a fresh cup of coffee and followed Torger to a table. He sat down facing his fellow countryman.
Torger jabbed his fork into his eggs. “What’s on your mind?”
“The Camp Hale Ski Team.”
Torger grinned. “Just find out about that?”
Tor nodded. “There was an article in the Ski-Zette yesterday.”
“Which you saw because you were the headline.” Torger wagged his head. “You really should keep up, Hansen.”
“I’m going to learn English,” he replied defensively. “But tell me about the team. Are you on it?”
Torger made a face. “Of course I am.”
“Can I join?” Tor pressed.
“You’ll have to talk to Corporal Pfeifer. He’s the one arranging everything.” When Tor didn’t react, Torger leaned forward. “You know who he is, right? Friedl Pfeifer?”