Well...any chance for an update to see if you can?Valdemar said:
I keep seeing this thread at the top and thinking perhaps you might.-
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I keep seeing this thread at the top and thinking perhaps you might.
Valdemar: ...I wonder if I can get the style back if I tried to reopen it?
you certainly have my vote to continue this AAR ! !
it is AWESOME ! !
you certainly have my vote to continue this AAR ! !
it is AWESOME ! !
Yeah well, I wish I could, but I've changed jobs twice since then, all notes are gone, and more importantly, so is the good chunk of writing time I used to have at work
But I will try.
V
But I will try.
V
Winter 1942, close to Christmas
Christian slipped out of the house quietly the following morning as soon as the curfew broke. Following the slow trickle of early people heading towards their jobs in Copenhagen he made his way towards the trains.
It was not until he was back on the main railway station and its bustle of people that he began to relax slightly. Only then did he allow his mind to dwell on what had happened in the large house the night before. Keeping an eye on the German patrol near the main entrance he slowly made his way through the throngs, carefully navigating the open concourse towards his current apartment.
Last night had been a mistake, he knew the moment he committed to it, but he had let the urges of his tired and stressed body take command rather than letting logic and common sense dictate his life. A mistake indeed. He was a fugitive, a nonentity, that carried no protection from state or occupational force other than his wit and whom ever gracefully gave him shelter for a night or a week.
She had been dragged into danger, unknowingly, unwittingly, by her association with him. Her grandfather was somewhat protected through his rank and connections, unless irrevocable proof of the admiral’s connection with him and his actions were produced the Germans would likely not dare touch him. But that protection did not extend to her, not fully, she was expendable, and he had exposed her to it.
She couldn’t know off course, he couldn’t let her know, even if she guessed at the purpose of his visits to her grandfather. And it would have to stay that way. He could not involve her, not let her get close enough to him to be in danger, not for her sake, not for his and certainly not for the sake of her grandfather, he owed the old admiral that and more too.
He had exited the station and was moving down the main street, for brief moment he had forgotten himself preoccupied with the thoughts of what could happen to her. Straightening he moved into a side street, allowed a drunkard to bump into him letting the force of the interaction twist him so he could look back down the street. No one to be seen. Skirting the man he moved around the block and began heading in the opposite direction, what a cumbersome way to travel, he ruefully shook his head and forcibly forced any thought of last night from his mind.
He had not been able to see the Admiral, and as such the main purpose of his visit was still unfulfilled, and that meant he had to find other ways to deal with the situation. Christian sighed, his task as silent partner in as diverse schemes as the “Cousins’” intelligence gathering and KOPA, the communist party partisan movement, made it difficult at times to actually see a path for his own group.
Making up his mind he turned another corner, Erik would have to seek out Jens Sørensen, the communist naval officer, once again.
The communists had been forced underground earlier in the year with the Plan Barbarossa and while the Danish Government had been reluctant they had outlawed the communist party and zealous fraction within the administration had supplied the police with extensive lists of members. The police however, while ostensibly carrying out the orders to arrest the communists, had warned many of their eminent arrest, and as such they had gone underground.
Now they operated in a small scale, printing illegal papers and obstructing productions through the network of foremen and apprentices in many of the major Danish industrial factories. Christian did not control them, and he had hoped that he could influence them enough to guide their effort away from the direct confrontation with the occupation force. But, as he would have liked to discuss with the admiral, tension was building slowly, and with the supplies dropped in Jutland he was uncertain for how long he could keep the lid on things.
The former commander, Royal Danish Navy, ducked his head slightly and stepped into a small bar. The place was dimly lit, and only a few chairs occupied by regulars. Christian nodded a greeting to the proprietor behind the bar and ordered a beer. Smiling to himself he took the glass and found a table, at least the Germans hadn’t ruined the beer he smiled slightly, Danes would go on without coffee, tea and chocolate, even without gasoline, but if the Germans limited the beer, bread and butter, then the Danes would go into rebellion.
Drinking the beer slowly he scanned the room, but no one entered after him. After the requisite time he stood and headed for the men’s room, leaving a small scrap of paper behind the condom dispenser, the irony of that particular vessel for his communications not lost on him at all.
***
Erik had had a long day in the naval yard. All the ships had long ago been tied up save for a few light vessels still crewed to maintain a rescue service and other more peaceful occupation. Still the yard had to function, and with all the capital ships moored along the docks maintenance, the everyday life of every navy, still had to be carried out.
Today he had spent his time aboard the large artillery frigate “Peder Skram”, the cannons had been dismantled, oiled and reassembled, a tedious and seemingly ridiculous task as all the shells were safely ashore and likely to remain there for the remainder of the occupation.
But Erik had another motive with his apparently overzealous and detailed inspections of the ship. Moving slowly from work crew to work crew he was not only checking that oil and paint was applied in liberal amounts. He also made sure that no one tampered with the installations his men had slowly installed aboard that and dozens of other larger vessels.
Satisfied that the day had been spent well he finally left the yards as the sun dipped below the horizon taking his bike towards is apartment. As had become his custom every second day or so he stopped by his local corner bar on the way home. The dimly lit interior with its faint smells of stale beer wasn’t overly attractive, but the owner had gotten used to him, and he was almost a regular.
Drinking his beer slowly he finished the day as so many others by a quick visit to the rest room. Waiting until he was alone he quickly checked the automat and easily found the small paper note left there by his companion.
Reading the simple and apparently innocent message he moved into a stall and closed the door. Lighting a cigarette he urinated noisily while burning the paper. Exiting he washed his hands. It would seem he had to find a way to leave early tomorrow and go to another part of town, to see a man no longer employed by the navy.
Christian slipped out of the house quietly the following morning as soon as the curfew broke. Following the slow trickle of early people heading towards their jobs in Copenhagen he made his way towards the trains.
It was not until he was back on the main railway station and its bustle of people that he began to relax slightly. Only then did he allow his mind to dwell on what had happened in the large house the night before. Keeping an eye on the German patrol near the main entrance he slowly made his way through the throngs, carefully navigating the open concourse towards his current apartment.
Last night had been a mistake, he knew the moment he committed to it, but he had let the urges of his tired and stressed body take command rather than letting logic and common sense dictate his life. A mistake indeed. He was a fugitive, a nonentity, that carried no protection from state or occupational force other than his wit and whom ever gracefully gave him shelter for a night or a week.
She had been dragged into danger, unknowingly, unwittingly, by her association with him. Her grandfather was somewhat protected through his rank and connections, unless irrevocable proof of the admiral’s connection with him and his actions were produced the Germans would likely not dare touch him. But that protection did not extend to her, not fully, she was expendable, and he had exposed her to it.
She couldn’t know off course, he couldn’t let her know, even if she guessed at the purpose of his visits to her grandfather. And it would have to stay that way. He could not involve her, not let her get close enough to him to be in danger, not for her sake, not for his and certainly not for the sake of her grandfather, he owed the old admiral that and more too.
He had exited the station and was moving down the main street, for brief moment he had forgotten himself preoccupied with the thoughts of what could happen to her. Straightening he moved into a side street, allowed a drunkard to bump into him letting the force of the interaction twist him so he could look back down the street. No one to be seen. Skirting the man he moved around the block and began heading in the opposite direction, what a cumbersome way to travel, he ruefully shook his head and forcibly forced any thought of last night from his mind.
He had not been able to see the Admiral, and as such the main purpose of his visit was still unfulfilled, and that meant he had to find other ways to deal with the situation. Christian sighed, his task as silent partner in as diverse schemes as the “Cousins’” intelligence gathering and KOPA, the communist party partisan movement, made it difficult at times to actually see a path for his own group.
Making up his mind he turned another corner, Erik would have to seek out Jens Sørensen, the communist naval officer, once again.
The communists had been forced underground earlier in the year with the Plan Barbarossa and while the Danish Government had been reluctant they had outlawed the communist party and zealous fraction within the administration had supplied the police with extensive lists of members. The police however, while ostensibly carrying out the orders to arrest the communists, had warned many of their eminent arrest, and as such they had gone underground.
Now they operated in a small scale, printing illegal papers and obstructing productions through the network of foremen and apprentices in many of the major Danish industrial factories. Christian did not control them, and he had hoped that he could influence them enough to guide their effort away from the direct confrontation with the occupation force. But, as he would have liked to discuss with the admiral, tension was building slowly, and with the supplies dropped in Jutland he was uncertain for how long he could keep the lid on things.
The former commander, Royal Danish Navy, ducked his head slightly and stepped into a small bar. The place was dimly lit, and only a few chairs occupied by regulars. Christian nodded a greeting to the proprietor behind the bar and ordered a beer. Smiling to himself he took the glass and found a table, at least the Germans hadn’t ruined the beer he smiled slightly, Danes would go on without coffee, tea and chocolate, even without gasoline, but if the Germans limited the beer, bread and butter, then the Danes would go into rebellion.
Drinking the beer slowly he scanned the room, but no one entered after him. After the requisite time he stood and headed for the men’s room, leaving a small scrap of paper behind the condom dispenser, the irony of that particular vessel for his communications not lost on him at all.
***
Erik had had a long day in the naval yard. All the ships had long ago been tied up save for a few light vessels still crewed to maintain a rescue service and other more peaceful occupation. Still the yard had to function, and with all the capital ships moored along the docks maintenance, the everyday life of every navy, still had to be carried out.
Today he had spent his time aboard the large artillery frigate “Peder Skram”, the cannons had been dismantled, oiled and reassembled, a tedious and seemingly ridiculous task as all the shells were safely ashore and likely to remain there for the remainder of the occupation.
But Erik had another motive with his apparently overzealous and detailed inspections of the ship. Moving slowly from work crew to work crew he was not only checking that oil and paint was applied in liberal amounts. He also made sure that no one tampered with the installations his men had slowly installed aboard that and dozens of other larger vessels.
Satisfied that the day had been spent well he finally left the yards as the sun dipped below the horizon taking his bike towards is apartment. As had become his custom every second day or so he stopped by his local corner bar on the way home. The dimly lit interior with its faint smells of stale beer wasn’t overly attractive, but the owner had gotten used to him, and he was almost a regular.
Drinking his beer slowly he finished the day as so many others by a quick visit to the rest room. Waiting until he was alone he quickly checked the automat and easily found the small paper note left there by his companion.
Reading the simple and apparently innocent message he moved into a stall and closed the door. Lighting a cigarette he urinated noisily while burning the paper. Exiting he washed his hands. It would seem he had to find a way to leave early tomorrow and go to another part of town, to see a man no longer employed by the navy.
Valdemar: ...Last night had been a mistake, he knew the moment he committed to it .. She had been dragged into danger...
so very true ! !
Valdemar: ...Making up his mind he turned another corner, Erik would have to seek out Jens Sørensen, the communist naval officer, once again.
not the best of choices, not the worst of choices ! !
Valdemar: ...at least the Germans hadn’t ruined the beer...
that is good ! !
but then, the Germans would have good reason not to ruin the beer...
Valdemar: ...to see a man no longer employed by the navy.
this is as smooth as if you had not had any interruption at all ! !
a truly magnificent update ! !
so very true ! !
Valdemar: ...Making up his mind he turned another corner, Erik would have to seek out Jens Sørensen, the communist naval officer, once again.
not the best of choices, not the worst of choices ! !
Valdemar: ...at least the Germans hadn’t ruined the beer...
that is good ! !
but then, the Germans would have good reason not to ruin the beer...
Valdemar: ...to see a man no longer employed by the navy.
this is as smooth as if you had not had any interruption at all ! !
a truly magnificent update ! !
A few days before Christmas
Erik had spent a good part of the afternoon chasing down a contact that would bring him in contact with the socialist group leader. Ironically he finally met the former navy officer only a few kilometres from their former common workplace.
Jens Sørensen greeted the younger officer in a small room deep inside the Burmeister and Wain shipyards. B&W was Denmark’s largest single employer and was situated on the large island beyond the naval yards, only a kilometre or so as the crow flies from the docks where Erik had slaved yesterday to get the maintenance done.
Erik accepted the warm mug of something that was supposed to be surrogate coffee and looked around the small room. Large dusty windows overlooked a room filled with big workbenches where an army of men in blue overalls were fitting and refitting various maritime gear for one of the large vessels in the docks. The grimy windows and the blue flames of the torches gave the big room an air of a medieval cave, filled with imps doing their masters bidding in a hellish light.
The young lieutenant looked at his host. Jens Sørensen looked every part the factory foreman, from the grimy blue coverall to the greasy hands holding the mug. Only the lack of calloused hands revealed the truth. Looking up he saw the older officer's eyes bore into his, unwavering. Not threatening, but cautious, vary, and not accepting anything on face value.
Erik drank a little and cleared his throat to break the silence.
"Do you know why I am here?"
"To do the bidding of Christian I presume?"
A small ironic smile played across Jens' lips, the first emotion he had shown. Erik shrugged, he knew there was no love lost between the two, but also that both were fine officers in their own right.
"Somewhat yes, he asked me to relay some information."
Erik drank a bit more of the fluid, At least it is warm outside the sleet drummed against the big windows over head, a typical winter day, all in all.
He sighed slightly, it was close the Christmas and he would rather be in Stockholm, at least it would a snowing there. He turned back to the task at hand,
“The current situation is a tad more tense now, and he would like to hear how you are progressing.”
Jens smiled again, the question was rather tame, and probably didn’t reflect the true worries of Christian, but at least it would serve as a good vantage point,
“We are doing quite well thank you, the illegal press is running hot, and our distribution is growing, did you have any specifics in mind?”
Erik smiled back,
“Someone feels that the growing tension may, or may not burst into fire if sabotage is growing, the wait and see, or perhaps in some areas, wait and build, policy is still the official route as far as England is concerned.”
Jens almost sneered, the first show of emotions that escaped him unwittingly. He quickly recovered and returned to the ironic smile hovering on his lips,
“England just wants us passive, are they not aware it brands us as cowards at best, and willing traitors at worst? We need to show the world that the occupation was not done willingly, that we oppose it, even if by small means.”
He gestured to the shop floor behind him,
“Do you know how many of these men would go on strike tomorrow if we asked them? Only ten or so, they fear for their wages, but if we can show them that enough was enough we could close this down peacefully for days.”
He paused, and the air seemed to bleed out of him,
“But they will not, not until we can show them that there are people out there willing to risk more than a pay check, that there are a people willing to risk their lives.”
He gestured again at a small group of young men and large boys gathered for a break in a corner of the floor,
“Can you see those over there? There are youngsters just like them out there, academics who want to prove themselves, who wants to join my cell and go ahead and destroy things, do real damage. I don’t trust them, they are not socialists in the sense, and certainly not members, but I cannot control them unless I let them in.”
Erik nodded, and understood that members were not referring to the cell, but to a political party. Jens continued,
“So, you can tell your precious commander that I am sitting tight, but I have men in most of the large factories here in Copenhagen. I cannot promise that it will stay that way.”
***
The three young men were braving the wintry weathers as they stood up in the pedals of their bicycles on the dark and deserted street in the northern suburbs of Copenhagen. The lights had been doused long ago to avoid their shine to work as guidance for the allied airmen, and even this early in the afternoon the winter darkness made the street a gloomy place.
The trio slowly rode past a number of smaller factories and businesses lining the street. They were all dark, closed and abandoned, or simply shut down for today. The youngsters looked carefully down the street before turning a corner in this quiet industrial quarter, and seeing no one they slowly pedalled onwards.
“Are you sure this is it?”
They had stopped before a large wooden gate. Everything seemed dark and silent and only the running of the train nearby and the sound of the sea slapping against the piers a few streets away could be heard.
One of the youngsters nodded and hefted the bag he carried,
“Yes, it is being shipped out tomorrow and they didn’t want to draw attention to the place, they rented the old storage, the warehouse, from my uncle’s firm, he doesn’t use it and their own was flooded by a faulty drain.”
He gestured to the sky as if the snowy rain that had flooded the warehouse was a deliberately planned act. He turned back to the other two, this was the turning point. He held up an old fashioned key,
“They will have to accept us after this, we will prove to them that they can trust us.”
The other two nodded, they knew what he was talking about. But one thing was knowing, planning, this was the last step. They had all heard of the young boys who was playing hide and seek with the Germans in Aalborg, their actions the first true rebellious acts, but nothing like this, nothing that would hurt the Germans directly in their war effort. This would, and it would bring their full attention upon Denmark. Or so they hoped.
The oldest of the young men smiled in the dark, unseen, unless we have been misinformed and the warehouse is full of canned meat. He looked at the other two and they all nodded in unison, affirmatively.
One last look down the street confirmed that no one was about, not even a single police patrol, and the oldest stepped forward and unlocked the large gate. Forcing the two parts apart they slipped insde and leet the gate fall shut with a low creaking thud.
Inside the bleak winter afternoon let no lights penetrate at all and they had to resort to torch lights. Skimming the walls they moved into the cavernous room lighting the stacked crates slowly trying to find out if they had indeed stumbled upon a storage of war materials for the Germans.
The youngest pried open a box and rummaged through the wooden package material.
“I have no idea what I am looking for.”
He looked at the others and they shrugged,
“Supposedly it is some sort of acoustic device, a listening device, manufactured by “Riffelsyndikatet” bound for Germany, but i don’t know what it looks like.”
The youngest turned the crate over and looked at the stencilled letters.
“I don’t know either, but it isn’t canned goods, and this freight address is in Hamburg.”
The last one finally spoke,
“That is good enough for me.”
He took his bag of his shoulder and opened it revealing the content. The others nodded again and did the same. Slowly the three went through the warehouse, breaking open crates and dousing them with spirits. When all was done they held up lighters and as one ignited the soaked crates.
As they left the same way they had entered the first yellow flames could be hinted behind the grimy windows.
Erik had spent a good part of the afternoon chasing down a contact that would bring him in contact with the socialist group leader. Ironically he finally met the former navy officer only a few kilometres from their former common workplace.
Jens Sørensen greeted the younger officer in a small room deep inside the Burmeister and Wain shipyards. B&W was Denmark’s largest single employer and was situated on the large island beyond the naval yards, only a kilometre or so as the crow flies from the docks where Erik had slaved yesterday to get the maintenance done.
Erik accepted the warm mug of something that was supposed to be surrogate coffee and looked around the small room. Large dusty windows overlooked a room filled with big workbenches where an army of men in blue overalls were fitting and refitting various maritime gear for one of the large vessels in the docks. The grimy windows and the blue flames of the torches gave the big room an air of a medieval cave, filled with imps doing their masters bidding in a hellish light.
The young lieutenant looked at his host. Jens Sørensen looked every part the factory foreman, from the grimy blue coverall to the greasy hands holding the mug. Only the lack of calloused hands revealed the truth. Looking up he saw the older officer's eyes bore into his, unwavering. Not threatening, but cautious, vary, and not accepting anything on face value.
Erik drank a little and cleared his throat to break the silence.
"Do you know why I am here?"
"To do the bidding of Christian I presume?"
A small ironic smile played across Jens' lips, the first emotion he had shown. Erik shrugged, he knew there was no love lost between the two, but also that both were fine officers in their own right.
"Somewhat yes, he asked me to relay some information."
Erik drank a bit more of the fluid, At least it is warm outside the sleet drummed against the big windows over head, a typical winter day, all in all.
He sighed slightly, it was close the Christmas and he would rather be in Stockholm, at least it would a snowing there. He turned back to the task at hand,
“The current situation is a tad more tense now, and he would like to hear how you are progressing.”
Jens smiled again, the question was rather tame, and probably didn’t reflect the true worries of Christian, but at least it would serve as a good vantage point,
“We are doing quite well thank you, the illegal press is running hot, and our distribution is growing, did you have any specifics in mind?”
Erik smiled back,
“Someone feels that the growing tension may, or may not burst into fire if sabotage is growing, the wait and see, or perhaps in some areas, wait and build, policy is still the official route as far as England is concerned.”
Jens almost sneered, the first show of emotions that escaped him unwittingly. He quickly recovered and returned to the ironic smile hovering on his lips,
“England just wants us passive, are they not aware it brands us as cowards at best, and willing traitors at worst? We need to show the world that the occupation was not done willingly, that we oppose it, even if by small means.”
He gestured to the shop floor behind him,
“Do you know how many of these men would go on strike tomorrow if we asked them? Only ten or so, they fear for their wages, but if we can show them that enough was enough we could close this down peacefully for days.”
He paused, and the air seemed to bleed out of him,
“But they will not, not until we can show them that there are people out there willing to risk more than a pay check, that there are a people willing to risk their lives.”
He gestured again at a small group of young men and large boys gathered for a break in a corner of the floor,
“Can you see those over there? There are youngsters just like them out there, academics who want to prove themselves, who wants to join my cell and go ahead and destroy things, do real damage. I don’t trust them, they are not socialists in the sense, and certainly not members, but I cannot control them unless I let them in.”
Erik nodded, and understood that members were not referring to the cell, but to a political party. Jens continued,
“So, you can tell your precious commander that I am sitting tight, but I have men in most of the large factories here in Copenhagen. I cannot promise that it will stay that way.”
***
The three young men were braving the wintry weathers as they stood up in the pedals of their bicycles on the dark and deserted street in the northern suburbs of Copenhagen. The lights had been doused long ago to avoid their shine to work as guidance for the allied airmen, and even this early in the afternoon the winter darkness made the street a gloomy place.
The trio slowly rode past a number of smaller factories and businesses lining the street. They were all dark, closed and abandoned, or simply shut down for today. The youngsters looked carefully down the street before turning a corner in this quiet industrial quarter, and seeing no one they slowly pedalled onwards.
“Are you sure this is it?”
They had stopped before a large wooden gate. Everything seemed dark and silent and only the running of the train nearby and the sound of the sea slapping against the piers a few streets away could be heard.
One of the youngsters nodded and hefted the bag he carried,
“Yes, it is being shipped out tomorrow and they didn’t want to draw attention to the place, they rented the old storage, the warehouse, from my uncle’s firm, he doesn’t use it and their own was flooded by a faulty drain.”
He gestured to the sky as if the snowy rain that had flooded the warehouse was a deliberately planned act. He turned back to the other two, this was the turning point. He held up an old fashioned key,
“They will have to accept us after this, we will prove to them that they can trust us.”
The other two nodded, they knew what he was talking about. But one thing was knowing, planning, this was the last step. They had all heard of the young boys who was playing hide and seek with the Germans in Aalborg, their actions the first true rebellious acts, but nothing like this, nothing that would hurt the Germans directly in their war effort. This would, and it would bring their full attention upon Denmark. Or so they hoped.
The oldest of the young men smiled in the dark, unseen, unless we have been misinformed and the warehouse is full of canned meat. He looked at the other two and they all nodded in unison, affirmatively.
One last look down the street confirmed that no one was about, not even a single police patrol, and the oldest stepped forward and unlocked the large gate. Forcing the two parts apart they slipped insde and leet the gate fall shut with a low creaking thud.
Inside the bleak winter afternoon let no lights penetrate at all and they had to resort to torch lights. Skimming the walls they moved into the cavernous room lighting the stacked crates slowly trying to find out if they had indeed stumbled upon a storage of war materials for the Germans.
The youngest pried open a box and rummaged through the wooden package material.
“I have no idea what I am looking for.”
He looked at the others and they shrugged,
“Supposedly it is some sort of acoustic device, a listening device, manufactured by “Riffelsyndikatet” bound for Germany, but i don’t know what it looks like.”
The youngest turned the crate over and looked at the stencilled letters.
“I don’t know either, but it isn’t canned goods, and this freight address is in Hamburg.”
The last one finally spoke,
“That is good enough for me.”
He took his bag of his shoulder and opened it revealing the content. The others nodded again and did the same. Slowly the three went through the warehouse, breaking open crates and dousing them with spirits. When all was done they held up lighters and as one ignited the soaked crates.
As they left the same way they had entered the first yellow flames could be hinted behind the grimy windows.
Valdemar: ...“So, you can tell your precious commander that I am sitting tight, but I have men in most of the large factories here in Copenhagen. I cannot promise that it will stay that way.”
so far, so good ! !
Valdemar: ...“Supposedly it is some sort of acoustic device, a listening device...”
oops ! ! too highteck ?
Valdemar: ...“I don’t know either, but it isn’t canned goods, and this freight address is in Hamburg.” .. The last one finally spoke, “That is good enough for me.”
burn, baby, burn ! !
Valdemar: ...As they left the same way they had entered the first yellow flames could be hinted behind the grimy windows.
so, do we get some fireworks to go with those flames ? ?
magnificent update ! ! really smooth
so far, so good ! !
Valdemar: ...“Supposedly it is some sort of acoustic device, a listening device...”
oops ! !
too highteck ?Valdemar: ...“I don’t know either, but it isn’t canned goods, and this freight address is in Hamburg.” .. The last one finally spoke, “That is good enough for me.”
burn, baby, burn ! !
Valdemar: ...As they left the same way they had entered the first yellow flames could be hinted behind the grimy windows.
so, do we get some fireworks to go with those flames ? ?
magnificent update ! !
really smooth
I can feel the tension and drama that taking these sorts of risks bring about...
Waiting for more...hoping for successful sabotage...knowing that most resistance actions lead to only one end...especially with the British holding your strings...
TheExecuter
Waiting for more...hoping for successful sabotage...knowing that most resistance actions lead to only one end...especially with the British holding your strings...
TheExecuter
Splendid to see some new updates, V! And you haven't lost your touch at all. It didn't take long for me to reacquaint myself with these characters and the air of tension and secretiveness is strong. Looking forward to more!
I'm writing the next update...http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Danish_resistance this is the general guideline to the overall plot of occupied Denmark
V
V
Christian stood at the back of the crowd hat well down, ostensibly to fight of the weather that still sent an icy shower down over Copenhagen once in a while.
The air still reeked with the sour smell of wet sooth and burned timber. Over the heads of the gathered crowd he could see the smoke still drifting slowly, lazily into the air and firemen still rummaged through the debris in search of the last pockets of fire.
He knew it had been a warehouse, a derelict one at that, he knew the whole block was full of such buildings housing minor industries struggling for survival now with the occupation. But why would that interest the Germans so much? Christian had spotted at least two officers looking uncomfortable in their civilian clothes, and two men from the secret police.
He knew he should get away, that their presence meant his presence could be a liability, but he was curious as to what that obvious run down building had been storing. Glancing again over the heads of factory workers on their way to work, office men who would surely be late and assorted curious spectators he spotted a Danish police officer he knew.
Knowing where he could get information he quickly pulled out of the crowd and left unhurried.
***
Erik had as usual been sent on the errand, and he dutifully found the policeman in question at the appointed place. Nodding slightly he continued past the man and waited for him a few hundred yards further down.
The policeman walked slowly by and seated himself on a nearby bench inviting Erik to join him,
“I guess the Commander wants to know about the fire?”
Erik nodded slightly, not speaking. The policeman unfolded a newspaper, but it was so out of place on the blustery afternoon that he quickly gave up and began to walk instead,
“It was rented by “Riffelsyndikatet” they had a shipment of acoustic devices bound for Germany stored there, not many knew, and to keep it secret they had not stationed a guard, merely had the usual night watchman do his rounds.”
He turned a corner throwing a backwards glance as he did, looking for anyone watching them.
“It would appear the fire was started several places soon after his rounds, and discovered by him when he made the next set of rounds a few hours later. For some reason.”
The plain clothed policeman paused,
“For some reason no one in the neighbourhood reported the fire. Obviously they were all asleep, even at ten in the evening.
It would seem the fire was started by something as unusual as spirits, several broken bottles were found on the premises. I would have expected gasoline, but maybe the rationing made that hard to get?”
He didn’t say that several of the bottles had been imported spirits, a thing that could be as difficult to get as gasoline, but off course could have been saved from before the war, or simply reused the bottles.
He stopped and turned to Erik,
“Tell the Commander that I cannot promise to help him again. This may be the last time, rumours are beginning to surface about various groupings, and it will only be so long before such rumours no longer can be kept from the Germans.”
With a nod he left the young lieutenant to wonder the consequences of the report.
Erik drifted the other way, slowly, idly wondering if this was a planned attack, or just a random thing that had gotten lucky. The target had obvious political and military implications, but had that been the intend, or merely a stroke of luck? It would seem that whomever had done it were very well informed.
As he passed a small pub he decided he could just as well have his dinner here as at home, alone. Showing his rationing cards he found a quiet corner and settled in, hanging his drenched coat on a stand.
Could it be that this was the beginning of something else as the communist, Jens Sørensen, had hinted? Surely the former naval officer would have “Riffelsyndikatet” with their cooperation with the Germans high on his list. But would he have acted him self? Or at least through his group, so soon after their meeting?
He had accepted the warning from London on their last meeting, and Erik had believed him when he said he would bide his time. But was it true? Finishing his dinner without really tasting it he stood and paid, winching slightly as he pulled on the cold and damp coat. It would be good to get back home.
***
Unbeknownst to Erik the same questions were running through the communist officer’s mind as he stood, unseeing, at the window in his small rented room. He had ensured the warning delivered to him had been distributed through his group, and from there he was sure even further.
But someone had their own plans. He knew off course that other acts of sabotage and resistance had been carried out. Like the actions up in Aalborg, but that had the character of pranks, or isolated events, more a show of defiance than actual sabotage with the impact that tonight’s actions carried.
He turned away from the window. No last night’s action had a distinct feeling to it, and the impact, if his intelligence was right, would be far greater than a few stolen Nazi flags, or distributing of illegal papers. But who had done it? None of his own would do it this way, not without his knowledge, of that he was certain.
The leader of communist resistance in Denmark was still pondering the solution as the sun set early over wintry Copenhagen.
***
Erik had expected to spend Christmas in Copenhagen, had even dreaded the thought when his superior had called early on the twenty second. Apparently something had come up for the regular dispatch to the embassy in Stockholm and would he care to take the trip?
The young officer had smiled at the voice on the phone, wondering how Christian had managed to get the Admiral to pull strings at such short notice, or if the events a few nights ago had forced the hands of both men. He was sure that he would need not only to see the Embassy, but also the British to explain what had happened. And equally sure that his ration of coffee and chocolate would have to be given to the unfortunate officer whose trip he had usurped this way.
But he didn’t care, because now he would get to spend Christmas in Stockholm, and that prospect far outshone any other.
The air still reeked with the sour smell of wet sooth and burned timber. Over the heads of the gathered crowd he could see the smoke still drifting slowly, lazily into the air and firemen still rummaged through the debris in search of the last pockets of fire.
He knew it had been a warehouse, a derelict one at that, he knew the whole block was full of such buildings housing minor industries struggling for survival now with the occupation. But why would that interest the Germans so much? Christian had spotted at least two officers looking uncomfortable in their civilian clothes, and two men from the secret police.
He knew he should get away, that their presence meant his presence could be a liability, but he was curious as to what that obvious run down building had been storing. Glancing again over the heads of factory workers on their way to work, office men who would surely be late and assorted curious spectators he spotted a Danish police officer he knew.
Knowing where he could get information he quickly pulled out of the crowd and left unhurried.
***
Erik had as usual been sent on the errand, and he dutifully found the policeman in question at the appointed place. Nodding slightly he continued past the man and waited for him a few hundred yards further down.
The policeman walked slowly by and seated himself on a nearby bench inviting Erik to join him,
“I guess the Commander wants to know about the fire?”
Erik nodded slightly, not speaking. The policeman unfolded a newspaper, but it was so out of place on the blustery afternoon that he quickly gave up and began to walk instead,
“It was rented by “Riffelsyndikatet” they had a shipment of acoustic devices bound for Germany stored there, not many knew, and to keep it secret they had not stationed a guard, merely had the usual night watchman do his rounds.”
He turned a corner throwing a backwards glance as he did, looking for anyone watching them.
“It would appear the fire was started several places soon after his rounds, and discovered by him when he made the next set of rounds a few hours later. For some reason.”
The plain clothed policeman paused,
“For some reason no one in the neighbourhood reported the fire. Obviously they were all asleep, even at ten in the evening.
It would seem the fire was started by something as unusual as spirits, several broken bottles were found on the premises. I would have expected gasoline, but maybe the rationing made that hard to get?”
He didn’t say that several of the bottles had been imported spirits, a thing that could be as difficult to get as gasoline, but off course could have been saved from before the war, or simply reused the bottles.
He stopped and turned to Erik,
“Tell the Commander that I cannot promise to help him again. This may be the last time, rumours are beginning to surface about various groupings, and it will only be so long before such rumours no longer can be kept from the Germans.”
With a nod he left the young lieutenant to wonder the consequences of the report.
Erik drifted the other way, slowly, idly wondering if this was a planned attack, or just a random thing that had gotten lucky. The target had obvious political and military implications, but had that been the intend, or merely a stroke of luck? It would seem that whomever had done it were very well informed.
As he passed a small pub he decided he could just as well have his dinner here as at home, alone. Showing his rationing cards he found a quiet corner and settled in, hanging his drenched coat on a stand.
Could it be that this was the beginning of something else as the communist, Jens Sørensen, had hinted? Surely the former naval officer would have “Riffelsyndikatet” with their cooperation with the Germans high on his list. But would he have acted him self? Or at least through his group, so soon after their meeting?
He had accepted the warning from London on their last meeting, and Erik had believed him when he said he would bide his time. But was it true? Finishing his dinner without really tasting it he stood and paid, winching slightly as he pulled on the cold and damp coat. It would be good to get back home.
***
Unbeknownst to Erik the same questions were running through the communist officer’s mind as he stood, unseeing, at the window in his small rented room. He had ensured the warning delivered to him had been distributed through his group, and from there he was sure even further.
But someone had their own plans. He knew off course that other acts of sabotage and resistance had been carried out. Like the actions up in Aalborg, but that had the character of pranks, or isolated events, more a show of defiance than actual sabotage with the impact that tonight’s actions carried.
He turned away from the window. No last night’s action had a distinct feeling to it, and the impact, if his intelligence was right, would be far greater than a few stolen Nazi flags, or distributing of illegal papers. But who had done it? None of his own would do it this way, not without his knowledge, of that he was certain.
The leader of communist resistance in Denmark was still pondering the solution as the sun set early over wintry Copenhagen.
***
Erik had expected to spend Christmas in Copenhagen, had even dreaded the thought when his superior had called early on the twenty second. Apparently something had come up for the regular dispatch to the embassy in Stockholm and would he care to take the trip?
The young officer had smiled at the voice on the phone, wondering how Christian had managed to get the Admiral to pull strings at such short notice, or if the events a few nights ago had forced the hands of both men. He was sure that he would need not only to see the Embassy, but also the British to explain what had happened. And equally sure that his ration of coffee and chocolate would have to be given to the unfortunate officer whose trip he had usurped this way.
But he didn’t care, because now he would get to spend Christmas in Stockholm, and that prospect far outshone any other.
And so the 'game' continues...it must be very stressful gambling with your life in this context.
Excellent stuff still, keep it up!
TheExecuter
Excellent stuff still, keep it up!
TheExecuter
What a tangled web! Who are these mysterious 'other' saboteurs? Let us hope the mystery is soon revealed, but not to the German investigators of course.
Valdemar: ...Unbeknownst to Erik the same questions were running through the Communist officer’s mind as he stood, unseeing, at the window in his small rented room. .. But who had done it? None of his own would do it this way, not without his knowledge, of that he was certain.
it seems that everyone has some facts regarding the case, just not all of them ! !
magnificent update ! !
El Pip: ...Who are these mysterious 'other' saboteurs?
some young men who "want-a-be" accepted into the ranks of the Communist group ! !
it seems that everyone has some facts regarding the case, just not all of them ! !
magnificent update ! !
El Pip: ...Who are these mysterious 'other' saboteurs?
some young men who "want-a-be" accepted into the ranks of the Communist group ! !
Thanks fellas
I expect to keep it up albeit slowly, I've gotten a job this february as an external consultant which means I'll be in foreign offices alot, which again means precisous little "me time" in front of a screen
V
I expect to keep it up albeit slowly, I've gotten a job this february as an external consultant which means I'll be in foreign offices alot, which again means precisous little "me time" in front of a screen
V
Christmas day 1942
The snow crunched under his feet as he left the train station in Stockholm and Erik smiled as he crossed the square outside.
He had lost the night before Christmas to travel, and while that was the height of Christmas in Scandinavia the sound of frozen snow after the sleet in Copenhagen and the knowledge of being on his way to Stockholm had been more than enough to compensate.
Now he made his way across the inner city towards his meagre hotel and the Danish representation fully aware that he had to walk in plain sight to allow whoever had been waiting for his arrival to pick up his trail easily.
It was a strange feeling for a man who had spent the last two trying his best not to be noticed.
He passed another small square and entered the hotel lobby. It was small and cheap, but clean and well run and he certainly didn't expect to stay there very much. As he signed in at the desk he asked the receptionist to get him a certain number in Stockholm.
The young officer unpacked slowly in his room and took a shower, he didn't expect the message to go through very quickly. He was lying on his bed reading when someone knocked on the door.
"Your call to the Danish Embassy has gone through, you can take it in the salon."
Erik nodded his thanks and followed the porter down, certain the distraction would serve to have his room checked. He shrugged, that was to be expected, the placing of the phone call had hardly taken an hour, but making sure someone was ready to search his room while he talked no doubt took a few moments on Christmas day.
Erik hung up and stood for moment lost in thought. He had expected to be called to the embassy more or less directly, after all they had been informed of his arrival, he as sure.
He picked up the phone again, hoping to get an operator and not the hotel clerk. He was in luck and in slow halting Swedish like Danish asked for a number in Stockholm. No luck. He had sent a telegram but had not expected to be free until late afternoon.
Giving whoever was looking over his room another minute he returned to pick up his coat and hat and left the hotel.
The snow was still fresh, but the sun had already set when he entered the street again. He was almost alone in the holiday deserted dusk and he almost felt pity for the men who would have to shadow him through a quiet and wintry city. If they bothered. Hopefully he had given them no reason to check him more than any other visitor.
He turned a few corners, not going the most direct route, but still heading in the general direction of Gamla Stan. As he reached the familiar street and saw the doorway further up he felt an unusual pit in his stomach. She had not acknowledged his arrival, there had been no time, and she had not picked up the phone. She could have left town for the holidays, though her parents were not in Sweden. She could have left him, though how would she know he was the one on the phone?
A strange anxiety gripped him and he unwittingly lengthened his steps. He was at the door soon enough and hastily opened it. He almost ran up the stairs, and stopped, a little out of breath at her door. Feeling like a fool he stood for a while, collecting himself, she was hardly home yet, he had called less than an hour ago.
He was so preoccupied that he never heard the person coming up the stairs from below until a surprisingly strong grip grabbed his arm and spun him around.
He never managed to get a sound out before she had her arms around his neck and covered his mouth with her kiss. As they resurfaced for air Erik grinned sheepishly, not sure why he had been so worried.
Sofia found a key and opened the door, still not questioning his presence. Inside he could see the silent inquiry in her eyes,
"I was sent here with short notice, I have to deliver a diplomatic dispatch at the embassy, but they are closed, and well."
He smiled again, still feeling foolish,
"I wanted to spend time with you."
It was the closest to a declaration of love he had ever given, and her eyes told him that he had not been remiss in coming.
He would indeed be able to find a place to eat in Stockholm, despite the holiday closed city.
The next few days seemed to fly by. Erik spent as much time as possible in Sofia's apartment, only interrupted by brief visits to the hotel and Embassy to check for messages.
Sofia left a few times, to shop, or to work, she still kept her job in the local restaurant where Erik had first met her. At those times Erik went to the Hotel or on long walks in the quiet snow covered town.
He had not contacted the Englishman, he wanted to talk to the Embassy first and the days went by like a completely unexpected holiday. He had made sure the Embassy informed Copenhagen of the delay, hoping fervently that Copenhagen could mollify the Germans so he would not be met in Helsingør by a number of dark clad Germans.
The young Dane was heading back to the apartment in a brisk walk in the dusk. Up ahead two men seemed in deep conversation with a young woman. Erik paused briefly, he had not seen many on his trip, and certainly not standing still in the cold.
One of the men looked up and saw Erik approaching down the street and quickly said something to his companions. the girl made a hasty farewell and disappeared into a doorway. When Erik reached the spot there were no signs of the trio.
He shrugged, this clandestine life of his made him see ghosts everywhere, likely they had just been friends walking home together and finished their chat before saying goodbyes.
But he thought the girl had looked like Sofia. Shrugging off the thought he lengthened his steps and hurried towards the apartment she should be home by now, her shift ending a little while ago.
He found his lover busy washing the kitchen floor when he entered the front door using the key she had given him. Erik hung up his coat trying hard to shed the nagging feeling that he had missed something and found an old newspaper to put on the floor to catch the melting snow.
That night he could not sleep, and decided that this holiday had to end soon. Something was happening, he just didn't know what.
The following day he left the appropriate messages at the Danish Embassy, hoping to find the attaché back after the weekend, and then left a small note for the Englishman in the bar where they had met the first time.
When Sofia left for work that afternoon Erik headed in the opposite direction and took a long walk through a number of deserted parks. When he felt confident he was not followed he found the back entrance to the small bar and sat down, hoping the Englishman had gotten his message.
Savouring his hot coffee he did not have to wait for long. The diminutive man from his first visits slipped in next to him and ordered.
"Not like tea at home, but what can one expect when the Germans hug the transports to India and beyond."
Erik smiled. He believed the small man played the stereotype to the fullest.
"Probably not, but not something I can relate to. At home we make tea and apple tree leaves."
The other grimaced,
"So what news have you brought from Copenhagen then?"
Erik relayed the discussions with the Communist leader and the mysterious fire that no one seems to take responsibility for.
"It is not like Ålborg?"
Erik had earlier relayed the young group of schoolboys who had played a series of pranks on the Germans based out of their local school.
"No, this is serious, the target was of significant economic and strategic value, it was not in public knowledge that it was stored there, and the damage was considerable. The effect on other operations could well be great. The Germans know it, we know it."
The English man nodded,
"Better to take control then. What did they do after the rail bombings?"
Erik shrugged,
"Surprisingly little, they cleaned up, set guards on the tracks and trains, but they had no clue to the culprits and since it wasn't repeated they slowly eased into their old routines."
"Well, I suggest someone find the saboteurs and include them rather than having them run free and..
Well I can't really say what to do, and certainly the official order could well be to sit tight, but I think you should consider releasing the communists under controlled form, and keep Christian's operation to the information gathering. I expect that there are rather watertight seals between the two operations with little or no connection save you and the commander?"
Erik merely nodded and the Englishman emptied his cup.
"Will you be coming back?"
The Dane shrugged,
"Probably not in a while, I was not up for this journey so it will be someone else the next couple of times."
The other nodded his goodbye and left, leaving Erik alone in the bar. He had several hours before Sofia returned and he would have to find something else to do than the empty apartment.
That night there was a strange finality to their lovemaking and Erik awoke to a message that the Danish attaché would see him at nine with a train ticket for the twelve o'clock train to the south.
Scampering to reach the hotel to pack, he quickly kissed Sofia goodbye and left in a hurry.
The meeting at the embassy was dull and quick, leaving Erik to wonder if the attaché already had heard the news and if his trip had been in vain. As he sat in the train heading south through the snow covered landscape he decided it had been a success, not the official parts, but all the rest. Now he only needed to tell Christian about the Englishman's orders, the official and the suggestion.
The snow crunched under his feet as he left the train station in Stockholm and Erik smiled as he crossed the square outside.
He had lost the night before Christmas to travel, and while that was the height of Christmas in Scandinavia the sound of frozen snow after the sleet in Copenhagen and the knowledge of being on his way to Stockholm had been more than enough to compensate.
Now he made his way across the inner city towards his meagre hotel and the Danish representation fully aware that he had to walk in plain sight to allow whoever had been waiting for his arrival to pick up his trail easily.
It was a strange feeling for a man who had spent the last two trying his best not to be noticed.
He passed another small square and entered the hotel lobby. It was small and cheap, but clean and well run and he certainly didn't expect to stay there very much. As he signed in at the desk he asked the receptionist to get him a certain number in Stockholm.
The young officer unpacked slowly in his room and took a shower, he didn't expect the message to go through very quickly. He was lying on his bed reading when someone knocked on the door.
"Your call to the Danish Embassy has gone through, you can take it in the salon."
Erik nodded his thanks and followed the porter down, certain the distraction would serve to have his room checked. He shrugged, that was to be expected, the placing of the phone call had hardly taken an hour, but making sure someone was ready to search his room while he talked no doubt took a few moments on Christmas day.
"This is Lieutenant Erik.....
....
Yes exactly. I have arrived in Stockholm this morning with the dispatches.
...
Yes I know it is Christmas morning.
....
Out of town? Copenhagen should have informed him I was coming today or tomorrow.
...
Snow? Well what did he expect in Northern Sweden? I have to catch the agreed train back in a few days or the Germans thinks I am staying here and will not let another messenger go.
.....
Well see if you can get in touch with someone. I'll check for messages here in the hotel.
....
That won't be necessary, I expect to have dinner out.
...
Yes I know it is Christmas, I am sure I'll find somewhere to eat."
....
Yes exactly. I have arrived in Stockholm this morning with the dispatches.
...
Yes I know it is Christmas morning.
....
Out of town? Copenhagen should have informed him I was coming today or tomorrow.
...
Snow? Well what did he expect in Northern Sweden? I have to catch the agreed train back in a few days or the Germans thinks I am staying here and will not let another messenger go.
.....
Well see if you can get in touch with someone. I'll check for messages here in the hotel.
....
That won't be necessary, I expect to have dinner out.
...
Yes I know it is Christmas, I am sure I'll find somewhere to eat."
Erik hung up and stood for moment lost in thought. He had expected to be called to the embassy more or less directly, after all they had been informed of his arrival, he as sure.
He picked up the phone again, hoping to get an operator and not the hotel clerk. He was in luck and in slow halting Swedish like Danish asked for a number in Stockholm. No luck. He had sent a telegram but had not expected to be free until late afternoon.
Giving whoever was looking over his room another minute he returned to pick up his coat and hat and left the hotel.
The snow was still fresh, but the sun had already set when he entered the street again. He was almost alone in the holiday deserted dusk and he almost felt pity for the men who would have to shadow him through a quiet and wintry city. If they bothered. Hopefully he had given them no reason to check him more than any other visitor.
He turned a few corners, not going the most direct route, but still heading in the general direction of Gamla Stan. As he reached the familiar street and saw the doorway further up he felt an unusual pit in his stomach. She had not acknowledged his arrival, there had been no time, and she had not picked up the phone. She could have left town for the holidays, though her parents were not in Sweden. She could have left him, though how would she know he was the one on the phone?
A strange anxiety gripped him and he unwittingly lengthened his steps. He was at the door soon enough and hastily opened it. He almost ran up the stairs, and stopped, a little out of breath at her door. Feeling like a fool he stood for a while, collecting himself, she was hardly home yet, he had called less than an hour ago.
He was so preoccupied that he never heard the person coming up the stairs from below until a surprisingly strong grip grabbed his arm and spun him around.
He never managed to get a sound out before she had her arms around his neck and covered his mouth with her kiss. As they resurfaced for air Erik grinned sheepishly, not sure why he had been so worried.
Sofia found a key and opened the door, still not questioning his presence. Inside he could see the silent inquiry in her eyes,
"I was sent here with short notice, I have to deliver a diplomatic dispatch at the embassy, but they are closed, and well."
He smiled again, still feeling foolish,
"I wanted to spend time with you."
It was the closest to a declaration of love he had ever given, and her eyes told him that he had not been remiss in coming.
He would indeed be able to find a place to eat in Stockholm, despite the holiday closed city.
The next few days seemed to fly by. Erik spent as much time as possible in Sofia's apartment, only interrupted by brief visits to the hotel and Embassy to check for messages.
Sofia left a few times, to shop, or to work, she still kept her job in the local restaurant where Erik had first met her. At those times Erik went to the Hotel or on long walks in the quiet snow covered town.
He had not contacted the Englishman, he wanted to talk to the Embassy first and the days went by like a completely unexpected holiday. He had made sure the Embassy informed Copenhagen of the delay, hoping fervently that Copenhagen could mollify the Germans so he would not be met in Helsingør by a number of dark clad Germans.
The young Dane was heading back to the apartment in a brisk walk in the dusk. Up ahead two men seemed in deep conversation with a young woman. Erik paused briefly, he had not seen many on his trip, and certainly not standing still in the cold.
One of the men looked up and saw Erik approaching down the street and quickly said something to his companions. the girl made a hasty farewell and disappeared into a doorway. When Erik reached the spot there were no signs of the trio.
He shrugged, this clandestine life of his made him see ghosts everywhere, likely they had just been friends walking home together and finished their chat before saying goodbyes.
But he thought the girl had looked like Sofia. Shrugging off the thought he lengthened his steps and hurried towards the apartment she should be home by now, her shift ending a little while ago.
He found his lover busy washing the kitchen floor when he entered the front door using the key she had given him. Erik hung up his coat trying hard to shed the nagging feeling that he had missed something and found an old newspaper to put on the floor to catch the melting snow.
That night he could not sleep, and decided that this holiday had to end soon. Something was happening, he just didn't know what.
The following day he left the appropriate messages at the Danish Embassy, hoping to find the attaché back after the weekend, and then left a small note for the Englishman in the bar where they had met the first time.
When Sofia left for work that afternoon Erik headed in the opposite direction and took a long walk through a number of deserted parks. When he felt confident he was not followed he found the back entrance to the small bar and sat down, hoping the Englishman had gotten his message.
Savouring his hot coffee he did not have to wait for long. The diminutive man from his first visits slipped in next to him and ordered.
"Not like tea at home, but what can one expect when the Germans hug the transports to India and beyond."
Erik smiled. He believed the small man played the stereotype to the fullest.
"Probably not, but not something I can relate to. At home we make tea and apple tree leaves."
The other grimaced,
"So what news have you brought from Copenhagen then?"
Erik relayed the discussions with the Communist leader and the mysterious fire that no one seems to take responsibility for.
"It is not like Ålborg?"
Erik had earlier relayed the young group of schoolboys who had played a series of pranks on the Germans based out of their local school.
"No, this is serious, the target was of significant economic and strategic value, it was not in public knowledge that it was stored there, and the damage was considerable. The effect on other operations could well be great. The Germans know it, we know it."
The English man nodded,
"Better to take control then. What did they do after the rail bombings?"
Erik shrugged,
"Surprisingly little, they cleaned up, set guards on the tracks and trains, but they had no clue to the culprits and since it wasn't repeated they slowly eased into their old routines."
"Well, I suggest someone find the saboteurs and include them rather than having them run free and..
Well I can't really say what to do, and certainly the official order could well be to sit tight, but I think you should consider releasing the communists under controlled form, and keep Christian's operation to the information gathering. I expect that there are rather watertight seals between the two operations with little or no connection save you and the commander?"
Erik merely nodded and the Englishman emptied his cup.
"Will you be coming back?"
The Dane shrugged,
"Probably not in a while, I was not up for this journey so it will be someone else the next couple of times."
The other nodded his goodbye and left, leaving Erik alone in the bar. He had several hours before Sofia returned and he would have to find something else to do than the empty apartment.
That night there was a strange finality to their lovemaking and Erik awoke to a message that the Danish attaché would see him at nine with a train ticket for the twelve o'clock train to the south.
Scampering to reach the hotel to pack, he quickly kissed Sofia goodbye and left in a hurry.
The meeting at the embassy was dull and quick, leaving Erik to wonder if the attaché already had heard the news and if his trip had been in vain. As he sat in the train heading south through the snow covered landscape he decided it had been a success, not the official parts, but all the rest. Now he only needed to tell Christian about the Englishman's orders, the official and the suggestion.
Valdemar: ...Erik nodded his thanks and followed the porter down, certain the distraction would serve to have his room checked. He shrugged, that was to be expected, the placing of the phone call had hardly taken an hour, but making sure someone was ready to search his room while he talked no doubt took a few moments on Christmas day.
that is one reason i really like this AAR. it gives a glimpse of what life was like under the German occupation. even though i have read a lot about WW2, this AAR fills in some holes ! !
Valdemar: ...He was so preoccupied that he never heard the person coming up the stairs from below until a surprisingly strong grip grabbed his arm and spun him around.
that cost me a couple of heart beats ! !
Valdemar: ...But he thought the girl had looked like Sofia.
so, who does she really work for ? ?
Valdemar: ...Erik relayed the discussions with the Communist leader and the mysterious fire that no one seems to take responsibility for. .. "Well, I suggest someone find the saboteurs and include them rather than having them run free and.. ..Well I can't really say what to do, and certainly the official order could well be to sit tight...
find out who did it, when no one has a clue as to who did it ! !
Valdemar: ...The meeting at the embassy was dull and quick...
that reminds me of being in the Army. hurry up and wait (usually in a long line) ! !
wonderful update ! !
i just can't believe that no one has responded before this.
that is one reason i really like this AAR. it gives a glimpse of what life was like under the German occupation. even though i have read a lot about WW2, this AAR fills in some holes ! !
Valdemar: ...He was so preoccupied that he never heard the person coming up the stairs from below until a surprisingly strong grip grabbed his arm and spun him around.
that cost me a couple of heart beats ! !
Valdemar: ...But he thought the girl had looked like Sofia.
so, who does she really work for ? ?
Valdemar: ...Erik relayed the discussions with the Communist leader and the mysterious fire that no one seems to take responsibility for. .. "Well, I suggest someone find the saboteurs and include them rather than having them run free and.. ..Well I can't really say what to do, and certainly the official order could well be to sit tight...
find out who did it, when no one has a clue as to who did it ! !
Valdemar: ...The meeting at the embassy was dull and quick...
that reminds me of being in the Army. hurry up and wait (usually in a long line) ! !
wonderful update ! !
i just can't believe that no one has responded before this.
Sorry about the delay in posting...I've been running around working on my own resistance projects...
I must say that I fear for Erik, in order to survive he needs to be totally focused on his resistance activities, but the presence of Sofia presents him with a reason to take his guard down. This spawns two questions:
1) Does Sofia really love him, or is she just using him?
and
2) When, or will Erik figure out the answer to question number 1.
Nice phone conversation as well. Keep up the good work!
TheExecuter
I must say that I fear for Erik, in order to survive he needs to be totally focused on his resistance activities, but the presence of Sofia presents him with a reason to take his guard down. This spawns two questions:
1) Does Sofia really love him, or is she just using him?
and
2) When, or will Erik figure out the answer to question number 1.
Nice phone conversation as well. Keep up the good work!
TheExecuter