by Dan Smith
‘Ja. Norway. Norwegen.’ Erik patted his chest, then he thought for a second before pointing at me and saying. ‘Peter farter?’
As soon as he said it, Kim and I looked at each other and smiled. The smile turned into a laugh and Kim did that thing where she snorted and slapped her thigh. We laughed so much there were tears in Kim’s eyes, but when I looked at Erik, he was confused, so I stopped myself laughing and said, ‘Farter?’ Then I put my lips on my forearm and blew, making a loud, wet sound.
Erik looked even more confused now. ‘Furzen?’ He shook his head. ‘Nein. No. Vater. Papa.’
‘He means father,’ Kim said, wiping away the tears. ‘I think he wants to know where your dad is.’
Suddenly it wasn’t funny any more, and I was thinking about Dad. It didn’t seem right that we were laughing and he was out there somewhere, far away, and we hadn’t heard from him for such a long time.
‘Africa,’ I said. ‘He’s in Africa.’
‘Afrika,’ Erik nodded. ‘Bad,’ he said. ‘War bad.’
‘Germans are bad,’ I replied.
Erik stared at me, shaking his head.
‘So why do you keep bombing us?’ I said, but he couldn’t understand, so I pointed at him and put my hands out as if I was an aeroplane. Then I made bomb noises and pointed at myself. ‘You bomb us. Germans are bad.’
Erik stared for a while longer. ‘Nein,’ he said. ‘No. No. Nazi bad. German gut.’ He put his hand on his chest. ‘Erik. Nazi. No.’
*
When we left, Kim and I went further into the woods to check the snares.
‘Mam says maybe all Germans don’t want to bomb us,’ I said.
‘She’s probably right. I suppose they’re not all Nazis. Like Erik; he’s not, is he?’
‘So why was he in the plane, then?’
‘He probably had to be,’ Kim said. ‘You think everyone here really wants to go and fight? I bet your dad would rather be at home with you and your mum. I know Josh would rather be here.’
‘Aye.’ It was Dad’s duty to go, I knew that, and Mam said he’d gone away to protect us but I couldn’t help thinking Kim was right.
‘So maybe Erik didn’t want to go, either,’ she said.
‘I never thought about it like that. People being made to go to war. Sounds unfair.’
‘Lots of things are unfair,’ Kim said.
‘I s’pose.’ I thought about Dad not being allowed back after Dunkirk like Kim’s brother was, and I thought about how he had gone to fight while others had stayed at home. People like Trevor Ridley’s dad. The more I thought about it, the more unfair it felt, and that made me feel even more sorry for Erik. Maybe he’d never even wanted to go up in a plane. Maybe he never wanted to fight anybody. And, for the first time, it occurred to me that he must have a mam and dad too. Sisters and brothers, even, or a girlfriend or wife or something. They were probably all at home right now, wondering where he was. Maybe they were worried too; worried because they hadn’t had a letter from him, just like we hadn’t had one from Dad.
The first two snares we came to were empty, but when we came to the third, I saw straight away that the slack had been pulled tight against the peg.
‘I think we got one,’ I said hurrying over.
Kim ran alongside me, asking, ‘Where is it?’
I got down on my knees and beckoned her close. ‘Under there.’ Close to the snare, there was a tuft of undergrowth which the rabbit was using for cover. The animal was crouched low to the ground, its ears pinned right back.
Kim leant close, putting her hand on my arm. ‘That’s amazing,’ she said. ‘You got one.’
‘We got one. You helped put these out.’
She nodded, her mouth slightly open.
‘It looks so soft,’ she said. ‘And look at its eyes.’
I took the tethering cord in my fingers and held it firm as I reached out to clasp the rabbit around the back of the neck. Gripping it that way, I grabbed its back legs with my other hand and pulled it from the undergrowth, holding it out for Kim to see. The rabbit hardly struggled at all. Its legs kicked once or twice, but that was it.
‘What now?’ Kim asked.
‘Break its neck.’
Kim grimaced.
‘Turn around if you don’t want to see,’ I said.
‘It’s all right.’ Kim nodded. ‘Go on.’
I held the rabbit’s head close to the ground and twisted as I pulled the hind legs back, giving a good tug, and felt the rabbit go limp.
‘That’s it?’ Kim asked.
‘That’s it.’
For a while, Kim sat with her legs crossed, looking at the rabbit laid out on the ground in front of us.
‘I’ve eaten rabbit,’ she said after a while. ‘Quite nice, really. Never seen one killed, though.’ She looked up. ‘I suppose you’ve done that lots of times, have you?’
‘A few. I don’t really like doin’ it. I don’t want to do it, but we have to.’
Kim thought about it for a moment. ‘What does it feel like?’
‘Doesn’t feel like anything . . . I . . . No, it does feel like something. It feels like Mam’s gonna to be happy. It feels like there’s something better than tripe to eat, and it feels like we won’t be hungry tomorrow.’ I thought about letting Kim take it home – she had helped to set the snares, after all – but I knew how pleased Mam would be. She loved rabbit. And one time, when I brought one home, she saw me from the kitchen window and she said it reminded her of watching Dad come home with a rabbit for the pot.
‘Maybe I’ll try next time,’ Kim said. ‘Be a proper country person. Like you.’
‘You sure?’
‘Of course.’
‘It’s just . . . you look a bit shocked.’
‘Not shocked,’ she said. ‘I think it’s brilliant. You just caught an animal and now you’re going to take it home to eat. What could be better than that?’
And the way she looked at me – that was the first time I realised Kim felt about me the same way I felt about her.
Kim didn’t say much on the way back, but she kept looking down at the rabbit I was carrying. I had its hind feet in my right hand, its head hanging towards the ground, and I felt so good. All around the world, the war raged. Bombs were being dropped and bullets were being fired, but right here, in these woods, I felt happy. I was with my best friend, and I was about to make Mam happy.
For a few moments, everything was just as it should be.
THE SOLDIERS COME
Two days later, the soldiers came. They weren’t German, but we were just as afraid of them when we heard them coming through the woods.
Kim and I had come over the top of the hill as usual, sneaking past the men guarding the wreck. There were only two of them there that day, and neither of them seemed very alert, leaning on the now cold pieces of twisted metal, chatting and smoking. They were wearing waterproof coverings to protect them from the drizzle that filled the grey morning air, and looked as if they were draped in sheets, like green ghosts guarding the wreckage. We were so used to seeing them, we’d almost forgotten there might be soldiers still looking for Erik.
‘I saw that boy Trevor following me before,’ Kim said.
‘Really?’
‘Mm. He was with those other two, waiting on the street near my house. Don’t worry, though, I gave them the slip.’
‘What did they want?’
‘Not sure.’
‘I don’t like the idea of them tryin’ to follow you.’
‘I’ll be all right,’ Kim said.
‘What if he gets you on your own, though? Or what if he follows you to the woods?’ I stopped and looked round, half expecting to see Ridley and his friends right behind us.
‘I’ll be extra careful from now on,’ Kim said. ‘I promise.’ She knew as well as I did how bad it would be for Erik, and for us, if anyone found out we were hiding him. We’d come too far to tell anyone now. Mam always said that if you tell a lie, it can get bigg
er and bigger, and I was beginning to understand what she meant.
Inside the woods it was damp and the smell lifted out of the soil and filled our nostrils. A good, earthy smell. Everything seemed alive despite the drizzle and the clouds. The past few days had been hot and sunny, and everything was grateful for the cool air and the wet. It made everything look greener.
Erik always looked afraid when we first came into the den, and he’d taken to holding a stick at the ready, as if there was anything much he could do with it. He’d hold it in front of him, pointing the sharpest end, but as soon as he saw us, he’d put it down and smile. I think if it had been me stuck inside that den all the time, I’d be pleased to see just about anybody. It was a good place to go for some peace and quiet, or maybe to play for a while, but I wouldn’t have wanted to live there.
The smell was better that day, and the pan was empty. And when I picked up his water bottle, expecting it to need re-filling, it felt heavy.
I held it out to Kim. ‘He hasn’t drunk any. You think he’s all right?’
‘Maybe he’s not thirsty.’
Erik gestured at us, making us watch him. He put the first two fingers of his right hand on the ground as if they were the legs of a little man. He made them walk away from him, then pointed at his chest and tapped his stick before walking his fingers through the air towards the entrance to the den.
‘You’ve been out?’ Kim said. ‘Using a stick?’ She looked at me. ‘He’s been out.’
‘Is that safe?’
‘It means he can walk,’ she said. ‘See. We’ve made his ankle better.’ She pointed at his ankle. ‘Good?’
‘Ja. Gut,’ Erik said. ‘Gut.’ He gave us a thumbs-up.
‘Mustn’t have been broken.’ Kim looked relieved. ‘So it was a sprain after all.’
‘And you can take your aunt’s pan back,’ I said.
‘I’m not sure she’d want it. I know I don’t want to—’
And that’s when we heard them.
Somewhere outside, a little way off, we heard voices coming closer.
Erik froze. His thumb was still out, but his eyes widened and he looked at us. From one to the other he looked at each of us, then he dropped his hand and reached for the stick.
I felt my heart quicken. My legs turned to stone.
‘ . . . got us bloody tramping around looking for him,’ said a voice. ‘Why the hell would he be so close? He’s prob’ly long gone by now.’
‘God help him if he’s not,’ said another. ‘He wouldn’t stand a chance.’
‘All them bombs . . . I find one of them Jerries here, he’s not going to know what hit him.’
‘Be quiet.’ A third voice. One I recognised. ‘With you lot thumping around like a herd of elephants, any German would hear you a mile away.’ It was Sergeant Wilkes.
‘He’s probably dead anyway, Sarge,’ said one of the voices that had spoken before. ‘At least he ought to be.’
‘Shh.’
For a while there was just the sound of men moving through the woods. The occasional swish of a low branch catching on a uniform, the snap of a twig beneath a shiny boot. And then a splash and Sergeant Wilkes said, ‘Oh, bloody hell. Now I’m gonna be sloshing around all morning.’
‘They’re at the burn,’ Kim whispered.
I shook my head at her and put my finger to my lips, still staring at Erik who was now looking at us in a strange way.
Outside, the boots moved through the woods, coming closer and closer.
‘I’m telling you; if I find this devil I’m gonna make him pay for this.’ The sergeant’s voice was unmistakeable.
And in seconds, the soldiers were almost right on top of us, just a few feet away. Erik was terrified, pressed back against the trunk of the sycamore, gripping his stick in trembling hands.
‘There’s a shed,’ I heard one of them say, and I imagined them all pointing their rifles at Dad’s shed, expecting a deadly German soldier to leap out at them.
‘All right, stand back,’ said the sergeant. ‘Be ready. We’ll have to check it.’
Everything was quiet for a moment. Then a rattle.
‘There’s a padlock,’ said one of the soldiers. ‘He’s not going to be in there.’
‘We have to be sure,’ Sergeant Wilkes replied. ‘These Jerries are sneaky, you know. Break it open.’
Straight away, I thought about the gun on the shelf and I turned to stare at Kim. I tried to remember if the gun was in plain sight; tried to remember if I’d left it in front of or behind the toolbox. If the soldiers saw it, they’d know something was up.
I felt my heart hammering. My body seemed heavy, my skin cold and clammy. I was as afraid now as I’d been when the planes had come and we’d run to the shelter. Perhaps more. All three of us sitting motionless in my den, protected from the soldiers by nothing more than some sticks and leaves. If all the foliage had suddenly fallen from the thick tangle of undergrowth we’d have been left sitting in the open just a few feet from the soldiers. I was almost too frightened to breathe in case they heard me. Terrified they’d find us or the gun, or both.
I felt Kim take my hand in hers, and she squeezed it tight when we heard the sound of something hard being smashed down on the padlock.
Again, everything went quiet.
I imagined the soldiers stepping into the shed and seeing the gun on the shelf. I imagined them calling for more soldiers so that they were everywhere, searching every inch of the forest, looking under every bush and behind every tree.
‘Nowt in here,’ said one of the soldiers. ‘Looks like no one’s been in here for a while.’
‘Anything been moved about?’ the sergeant asked.
‘Not that I can tell.’
I felt a tiny sense of relief that they had not found the gun.
‘Right, then, let’s move on.’
‘What is all this stuff?’ one of the soldiers said. ‘Looks like some kind of cages.’
‘Doesn’t matter. Let’s move on.’
‘There’s one here that’s broken, Sarge. And it looks recent.’
‘Aye, it does.’ And there was something in Sergeant Wilkes’s voice that made me imagine him narrowing his eyes like I’d seen him do before. And I remembered how the lieutenant had said he was like a bloodhound.
The voices were quiet again for a while, and then came the words that struck fear right into us. We knew we were going to be discovered as soon as we heard the one in charge speak again.
‘All right, you lot,’ said the sergeant, ‘spread out. I want this whole area searched. Don’t leave any stone unturned.’
We cowered in our hiding place like snared rabbits, not daring to breathe or move or think as the soldiers moved around us. We could hear their boots on the soil. I even thought at one point that I heard one of them inhaling heavily not more than a couple of feet away from me as he investigated the area around the hut.
And then, without any warning, a bayoneted rifle pierced through the foliage to my left. It broke through with little more than a swish and a rustle and the pointed blade thumped into the soil just a few inches from my thigh. We all whipped our heads around to stare at the length of black steel spike slung beneath the barrel of the Lee Enfield rifle. We watched as it twisted, drew back and disappeared almost as quickly as it had come in.
‘Could be in here,’ said the sergeant. ‘Hidin’ like a little rat.’
Then it struck through again, this time hitting the soil between Kim and me.
‘You in there, Jerry?’
The third time it intruded into our den, the bayonet missed Erik by inches.
‘I’ll stick you like a pig.’
On the fourth time, it drew blood.
The bayonet drove through the leaves and tangled branches, nicking Kim’s right calf, raking across her skin, tearing a ragged scratch. She immediately put her hand to her mouth to stop herself from shouting out in pain, her other hand squeezing mine.
We waited for the bayonet to come
through a fifth time, each of us drawing our legs up, making ourselves as small as possible. My muscles were tensed so hard they felt like they were on fire. But the bayonet didn’t appear again. Instead, there was a shaking and rustling as if Sergeant Wilkes was kicking in frustration at the tangle of branches and leaves.
‘Ah, there’s nowt in here,’ he said, sounding out of breath.
‘Clear over here, too.’
‘Nothin’.’
The voices all agreed there were no Germans hiding in the area and we heard them regroup by the shed. I looked at Kim, seeing the pain in her eyes, but she still held one hand clamped firmly over her mouth and the other was still squeezing mine.
‘Right, let’s move on,’ said the sergeant. ‘And keep the noise down. You’re soldiers, not schoolgirls.’
We listened to them moving off into the woods until there was no more sound. But even then we all sat in silence, not daring to speak.
For a long time we said nothing, and the blood trickled along Kim’s calf, soaking into the top of her sock, running down and dripping into the soil. The dark earth drank it up like water, drawing it down as we sat there, too afraid to say anything because the soldiers might come back.
It was Erik who moved first. He shuffled over to where Kim was sitting and took hold of her satchel. He removed a clean cloth and pressed it to the wound on her leg. He held it there, letting the blood soak in, then took it away and inspected the wound.
He sucked in his breath and shook his head. The emotion that he most commonly showed in his expression was fear, but now I saw something else in Erik’s eyes. It looked a lot like anger.
He dabbed at the wound, cleaning the blood away. It wasn’t deep. The bayonet hadn’t left a bad cut on Kim’s calf, and the blood made it look much worse than it was. Really, it wasn’t much more than a scratch, the kind of thing that might have happened climbing over the barbed wire fence – which was what she would tell her aunt when questioned – but that wasn’t what was on my mind. Something else was bothering me much more. Something else weighed down on me like a heavy, dark blanket that had fallen from above and covered me, making me afraid and angry and surprised, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was.