1. December 28th 1935 – somewhere in Holland
The night was cold and rainy. A strong wind blew around the practically abandoned airport adding to the misery of the lone person standing on the tarmac. It was with a heavy heart he had come here. The soil on which he stood was that of his native homeland and the misery he felt was because of the realisation he would be gone for many years if not forever. Yet he knew there was no other way. The telegram had been urgent but though the request in it was that, a request, his sense of honour left him no choice but to send a telegram back with a positive reply. He remembered that day a few weeks ago when he had sat down with that foreigner - what was his name again? – and discussed about many things. Already that evening he had had the feeling he was testing him, leading him somewhere with the conversation. The telegram this evening had proven his suspicions to be true. It had explained to him why he was chosen. That his live in the old city, which lights could be seen vaguely through the rain and trees in the distance, had been monitored closely for the last 4 years. He felt a bit of anger rising, but it quickly subsided. He knew the cause he now set out to defend was just and necessary.
A sound in the distance grew louder, radial engines, the aircraft that was to bring him to his new home.