Battles Abroad: The Norsemen's War: Book Two - Tor & Kyle (The Hansen Series 2)

by Kris Tualla

Kyle scoffed. “One randy officer could easily have a dozen wives if that was the case.”

  “So you can see my point.” Tor looked like he was trying to appear empathetic but failed. “Those nurses could be cooking up anything at all in the hopes of living happily ever after.”

  He’s right. “They’re caught up in the excitement and intrigue…”

  “Believing every word the prisoners tell them…”

  “Because they have their own plans and are using the women—damn it.” Kyle pounded on the steering wheel. “How could they be so gullible?”

  Tor circled back around: “We have to tell Jones.”

  Kyle capitulated in the face of his indefensible volleys. “Yes. We do.”

  “And after I tell him what I saw, you’ll have to tell him the names of everyone involved.”

  “We’ll go when you finish training today.” Kyle started driving again. “I’ll make an appointment after I drop you off so we won’t have to wait.”

  Tor reached over and squeezed her hand.

  When she looked at his hand and then at him, he said, “Relax Lieutenant, it’s not a kiss. It’s just an encouragement from a friend.”

  Oh. Right.

  February 2, 1944

  Major General Lloyd Jones was not in his office that day, but Kyle secured the first available appointment the next day. When she and Tor were seated in the general’s office, Kyle took a deep breath and started with the thing she knew was going to annoy Jones the most.

  “Captain Hansen was outside the POW enclosure again and he witnessed three American women—nurses—interacting with the Germans in romantic ways.”

  She thought the man might have a stroke on the spot.

  He glared at Tor. “What are you trying to do?”

  Kyle translated Tor’s answer. “With all respect, sir, I wanted to see if I could gain any more information about what might be going on with the prisoners.”

  “And once again, you were the one who happened to be there?” Jones scowled. “How do I know you aren’t the one involved in these theoretical goings on?”

  Tor looked like he might explode with more force than the general. “Translate every single word,” he growled with out looking at Kyle.

  “I will.”

  “My country has been overrun by these bastards. Their puppet-leader put my brother in a labor camp in the Arctic Circle for seven months. I don’t care if you believe me or not,”

  Kyle gave Tor a look that tried to say be careful when she finished his words.

  Jones glared at Tor. “You don’t care?”

  “No. I only care that you investigate, sir. Because if you do, you’ll see that I’m telling the truth.” He pointed at Kyle. “My translator’s roommate is one of the nurses in question. If that puts Lieutenant Solberg in jeopardy, then I want her protected.”

  Kyle didn’t react outwardly, but inside she was shrieking, why did you pull me into this?

  The Major General narrowed his angry gaze. “Who are the WACs in question?”

  Tor looked at Kyle. “You tell him.”

  Kyle faced Jones. “Privates Frances Bundorf, Florence Pechon, and Marguerite Franklin, sir. Franklin is my roommate.”

  “And have you witnessed anything that would corroborate the captain’s story?”

  “Only that the names that Captain Hansen overheard do match a conversation I was involved in four weeks ago.”

  “What names?”

  “Fred, Gerry, and Luddy.”

  The general steepled his fingers and his tone remained intense. “Tell me about the conversation, Lieutenant.”

  Though she hated to betray her friends’ trust, Kyle couldn’t condone their actions or allow them to continue. “They were planning to go out for the evening and they were talking about their boyfriends. They said the men weren’t going out with them because their situation was complicated.”

  “Is that all?”

  Kyle shook her head. “They said they’re all just engaging in a little wartime fun. They called it romantic and said it gives them all a diversion.”

  The general’s pointed finger tapped his lips. “Go on.”

  “They talked about passing notes and called the men just pen pals at the moment.”

  When Kyle stopped, Tor offered, “I saw them all passing notes back and forth.”

  Kyle turned to look at Tor. Was that comment coincidentally timed? It had to be. Their English lessons hadn’t progressed far enough for him to understand her.

  She translated his words.

  The general appeared to be considering his next action.

  “This is what I’ll do,” he began slowly. “I don’t want to pull our WACs under suspicion without due cause. But I will order a search of the POW quarters of any prisoners whose names could be Fred, Gerry, or Luddy.”

  Tor nodded his satisfaction when Kyle translated.

  “In the meantime, Lieutenant, you are under orders not to say anything about what you’ve told me to Private Franklin.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  “You and the captain are dismissed.”

  “Will he tell us what the search turns up?” Tor asked Kyle as they rose from their seats.

  “I doubt it,” she answered honestly. “But if Marguerite is arrested, I guess we’ll have our answer.”

  February 14, 1944

  Tor concentrated on his new group of trainees and told himself not to think about what Jones was doing—or not doing—to find out about the romantic interactions between the nurses and the prisoners.

  “Almost two weeks,” he grumbled to Kyle after supper as she drove him to his barracks. “I don’t think Jones’s searching for anything.”

  “There are hundreds of names to go through and match before the searches start,” she reminded him. “And who knows how many of the prisoners will ultimately be targeted.”

  Tor scrubbed his face with his hands as if he could wipe away the apparent fact that his warnings had been ignored by Jones. Again.

  He looked at Kyle. “We leave for the Steamboat Springs competition early tomorrow morning. I need to focus on that anyway.”

  She didn’t react, so he continued. “Pfeifer told me that there might be as many as hundred-and-fifty soldiers there from Camp Hale and Camp Carson.” Tor snorted. “I don’t think there are any American skiers left who haven’t enlisted.”

  “Doesn’t seem like it.” Her voice was flat.

  Tor looked at her more carefully. “Is something wrong?”

  She shrugged. “Erik’s not very good at keeping up his half of the letter-writing.”

  Tor pressed back the words he really wanted to say. “Of course not. He’s a man.”

  “But it’s Valentine’s Day.”

  Tor’s gut clenched. It certainly was. February fourteenth.

  He had been so careful not to undermine Kyle’s declaration that they were nothing more than friends. He hadn’t tried to hold her hand or kiss her or say anything to her that spoke of more than a professional working relationship on very good terms.

  But damn it, if she was his girl he would never have made such a mistake.

  “I’m sorry, Kyle. I know that disappoints you.”

  Kyle stopped the jeep in front of his barracks.

  “Maybe something will come tomorrow.” The pained hope in her expression made his heart hurt.

  Tor clenched his fists and fought the urge to reach over and touch her cheek. “Maybe there was a bad snowstorm that prevented the mail from getting through.”

  Her lips pinched in a tiny moue. She nodded.

  A crazy idea popped into his head. “Can you come watch the competition tomorrow?”

  That clearly sent her thoughts in a new direction, and she looked at him in surprise. “I don’t know.”

  “Have you been given any other orders for tomorrow?”

  She shook her head.

  “Then come. Be my translator,” he urged. “We aren’t staying overnight—and it’s only two-and
-a-half hours north.”

  Her brows pulled together. “Would I ride the bus with you?”

  “Yes,” he decided on the spot.

  Kyle looked a little sheepish. “I admit, I have been curious about what it’s like.”

  “Then consider it done.” Tor held up his left arm and pulled back his sleeve to expose his watch. “Now go get some sleep. We leave at five o’clock.”

  Before the desire to kiss her overwhelmed him, Tor opened the jeep’s passenger door and hopped out.

  He stuck his head back inside and said, “Don’t forget a handkerchief. It worked for me last time.”

  With a broad grin, he shut the door and ran up the steps to the barracks’ door.

  *****

  Kyle’s spirit was lifted more than she thought possible. Tomorrow would have been a day off with Tor gone, but now she’d be at his side in her military capacity. And that meant going in uniform.

  And watching him ski.

  The few times she’d watched him she was transported by his strength and grace. The idea of spending a day doing just that was making her unexpectedly giddy.

  She opened the door of her shared room to find Marguerite at the desk, bent over a sheet of paper.

  Kyle’s mood dropped again with the reminder of what her friend was doing.

  Marguerite looked over her shoulder and grinned. “Hi! Did you have a Happy Valentine’s Day?”

  “Not yet.” Kyle moved to the closet and hung up her coat. “Either Erik forgot, or something kept the mail from getting through.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Marguerite made a sad face.

  Kyle pointed at the desk. “Is that for your guy?”

  “Gerry? Yeah.” Marguerite turned back around. “I just need to finish it up and deliver it.”

  Kyle took a deep breath and kept her voice light. “I have to go to bed early. Captain Hansen wants me to go with him to the competition in Steamboat Springs tomorrow.”

  “Sounds like fun,” Marguerite said to the desk.

  “I hope so.” Kyle picked up her alarm clock and turned the knobs to set it. “When you get back, please try not to wake me. I’m getting up at four.”

  Chapter

  Twenty

  February 15, 1944

  Tor grinned as he watched Kyle. She was like a little kid on Christmas morning, not knowing what to pay attention to first.

  They boarded one of the three buses of soldiers in the pitch black pre-dawn of the icy winter’s morning. Tor made certain that both Tokle and Pfeifer were on the same bus as he and Kyle. Though most of the soldiers settled in for a two-hour nap, Kyle was full of questions.

  “Keep your voice low,” he said. “We don’t want cranky competitors.”

  “Do you know all these men?” she whispered.

  “A lot of them are ski instructors, I know that. But we haven’t spoken.”

  “Obviously.”

  Tor hesitated. “Right. And some names I recognize from skiing competitions.”

  Once they were at Steamboat Springs, Tor pointed out the ski jump. “That’s what Torger does best.”

  Kyle’s jaw dropped. “He jumps off of that?”

  “And he’s one of the best in the world.” Tor pointed to another slope. “Over there is the downhill and slalom. Those are my events. They’ll be in the afternoon.”

  “What’s first?”

  “The jumps.” Tor took Kyle’s arm. “Let’s go get a seat.”

  When the competition started at nine, Kyle was gobsmacked by what she saw. “I can’t believe they just fly into the air! Are they crazy?” She turned to him. “Would you ever try that? Or have you?”

  “No. And I won’t.” He smiled at her excitement. “I prefer to fly lower to the ground.”

  “When will Torger jump?”

  “At the end because he’s expected to go farthest.” Tor pointed at the lit sign that displayed the distances for each jump. “If you notice, the numbers keep getting higher.”

  Two hours into the competition, Torger Tokle was finally set to jump.

  “There are the standings.” Tor pointed to the leader board. “Corporal Zoberski is in first place with a distance of two-hundred-and-one feet. Hudspeth from Steamboat Springs is in second with one-hundred and eighty-seven feet.”

  “So Torger has to jump at least two-hundred-and-two feet to win.” Kyle drew a deep breath. “Go Camp Hale!”

  The crowd stilled when the horn blew, indicating that Torger had started his descent. Kyle leaned forward in her seat, her mittened hands clenched in front of her. Tor held his breath.

  When Torger reached the end of the jump and launched himself into the air the stands were silent. Tor watched his countryman with a mixture of awe and pride; Torger’s flight was mesmerizing to behold.

  When he landed on the earth, knees bent and arms wide for balance, all eyes went to the display and waited.

  Two-hundred-and-twenty-six.

  The spectators, breathless for the last several seconds, broke out in raucous cheers. Kyle jumped to her feet and added her own voice to the cacophony.

  Tor stood as well and leaned down to speak in her ear. “Let’s get something to eat. The slalom starts at noon.”

  *****

  Kyle settled into a seat to watch the slalom. Tor had given her a pair of binoculars so she could watch the skiers farther up the mountain more clearly than with her naked eyes.

  “I’m near the end as well, because of how well I skied in Salt Lake City,” Tor warned her as he handed her a scalding cup of hot chocolate. “So stay warm and patient.”

  She beamed up at him, thrilled to be here. “I will. Do you have my handkerchief?”

  Tor patted his chest. “Next to my heart.”

  The surge of pleasure that suffused Kyle’s core was disturbing, but she decided to ignore that. The handkerchief she gave him this morning was an embroidered one that one of her aunts gave her when she was twelve. She always thought it was too pretty to use so it stayed at the bottom of her drawer, but for this occasion it seemed perfect.

  As the competition went on, Kyle kept an eye on the times posted. When Tor was finally announced as the next skier, Camp Hale men were in the top three slots: Knowlton, with a time of one minute, fifty-eight seconds, Stingl at two minutes flat, and Pepin in third with two minutes, three seconds. Kyle raised the binoculars to her eyes and adjusted the focus.

  Come on, Tor.

  The horn beeped his start. Kyle held the binoculars steady until he skied into her view then she followed him the rest of the way down.

  The man was glorious.

  She loved Erik, she knew she did, but nothing her fiancé had accomplished so far was as amazing and impressive as this. Tor’s entire body flexed as his balance shifted quickly from one ski to the other, sending him in opposite directions around the poles.

  When he crouched low and shot past the finish line, Kyle dropped the binoculars and turned, breathless, to the time display.

  Two minutes, four seconds.

  Kyle tried not to be disappointed. She hoped Tor wasn’t. Camp Hale secured the top four slots and he should be proud.

  Besides, he always told me downhill was his strength.

  Kyle watched Tor’s expression carefully as she met up with him beneath the bleachers. He looked nothing like disappointed. He looked exhilarated.

  “God, that was fantastic!” he enthused.

  “You’re not upset you got fourth?” she asked.

  “Well, sure, I’d like to place higher. But there are more Hale skiers here than in Salt Lake so the competition is stronger.” Tor lifted a mug of something hot and downed a gulp before he continued. “Besides, I haven’t trained regularly since I joined the Norwegian Army four years ago. The fact that I was as fast as I was is great.”

  “And you said downhill is your strength anyway,” Kyle reminded him.

  He nodded. “And I have the chance to fly downhill everyday at camp.”

  “Might you win?”

/>   Tor laughed. “I doubt it. But that’s not why I ski.” His expression shifted to an almost dreamy one. “I ski because it’s life.”

  *****

  The downhill races were run late in the afternoon and the six-hundred-yard course was a little rough from wear. But it was a mere third of the distance that Tor trained his men on at Camp Hale, so he knew the run wouldn’t tire him out.

  He’d go all out from top to bottom, he resolved.

  I’ll fly as fast as I can.

  Kyle was waiting in the stands below, binoculars in hand when he left her to ride the tow to the top of the run. He waited again for his name to be called near the end of the competition. The sun was low, hovering just over the top of the mountains.

  “Hansen, you’re up.”

  Tor skied to the starting line and felt his blood start to sizzle with anticipation. He flexed his knees, held his poles at ready and waited.

  Three. Two. One.

  Beep.

  He was off.

  The run was swift and short, but Tor relished every split second of his flight. He felt alive and challenged and the challenge was met.

  As he skidded to a stop at the bottom, he watched the results along with the rest of the crowd.

  Twenty-three point five seconds.

  Tor nodded his satisfaction. There were three more skiers after him, so he’d have to wait with the rest of the spectators and competitors to see where he’d fall.

  *****

  Private Cremer from Camp Hale took first with a time of twenty-three seconds flat, putting Tor in second place. Tor shook the man’s hand in congratulations.

  “You’re a formidable competitor, Hansen,” Cremer said. “I’m proud to have you on our side.”

  Tor nodded his thanks, glad that no one seemed to notice his understanding of the compliment, but not risking an answer even so.

  “Half a second is not more than hitting an extra mogul,” he told Kyle later. “Besides, the Camp Hale team scored fourteen-thousand-eight-hundred points today and won the trophy. Camp Carlson only scored eighty-four-hundred.”