THE BROTHER

FLYING OFFICER EDWARD GROVES

RAF  - AGE 26

 

EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER 36 

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Edward has been captured and Lochner ordered to interrogate him...

 

Lochner made a conscious effort to relax his shoulders; he realised how tense he’d been. He took a deep breath and asked, “Tell me, did you really hurt yourself getting out of the Lysander?”

“Oh, these bruises? Surely you don’t think your chaps have been unfriendly towards me?” Edward said it with a sardonic smile. “I got some distance away from the wreck before some Froggy types picked me up. They were a little prickly at first, but as soon as they saw I wasn’t a Hun… oh, er, sorry… as soon as the saw I wasn’t from the world’s greatest air force they cheered up immeasurably. But then they had to hand me over to your people - some rather grim  

looking secret police types, which was a bit unsettling. Deutschland Uber Alles and all that.” He shifted awkwardly in his chair. “Do you suppose this room’s wired?”

“I expect so. It is a police station, you know.”  

”But a Dutch one. Are they any good at that kind of snooping, do you think?”

“This part of the building is occupied by the German security services, so…”

Edward nodded. “Oh, I see. Well, I’ve nothing to tell them anyway, so they’re wasting their time.” He turned to face the wall mirror and shouted, “You’re wasting your bloody time.”

“What happened? I mean, how did you crash?”

Edward scowled. “Engine packed up and I had to put down in a field. Of course, in the dark I didn’t see the bloody ditch running across it. So, whoops-a-daisy.” He smiled. “By the way you’re looking very good. Spoiled a little, I must say, by that bloody white bandage round your ankle. But what’s up with the face?”

“It was burned.”

Edward drew breath in over his teeth. “Oooh, I can see that. How?”

“An accident.” 

“Ahh. Bad luck.” Lochner couldn’t be sure if this was said with genuine feeling or was more adopted bravado. He wanted to say, no, you don’t have to pretend, I’m really your friend, I want to help you… But it didn’t seem possible.  “Anyway, they locked me in the dungeon of this bloody big fort in Sedan,” Edward continued. “Lovely upstairs but not so nice down: can you imagine? I was a bit concerned at first - my unconventional garb, you see—“ He indicated his civilian trousers and shoes. “I had a hat, too, and of course an escape map printed on silk, a little compass and French money, so you see, it was a bit awkward. They took it all away, including my bloody Horlicks tablets, the bastards.”

“What is Horlicks?”

Edward raised his eyebrows. “It’s a nutrition supplement. Helps you sleep. Under a hedge or something like that. I’m sure my mum would’ve introduced you to it when you came to stay. Perhaps you didn’t like the taste; it’s rather malty.” 

“Yes, I remember now. And you’re right, I didn’t like it.” 

Lochner hoped this might lead to them talking about those times in Cambridge; to begin earning Edward’s trust, essential if he were to satisfy Mundt’s demands.  But Edward leaned forward, pretending to pass a confidence, thumbing towards a possibly hidden microphone. “I say, I think they might have mistaken me for a spy. But they’re on the wrong track there.” Then, louder, to the room, “You’re on the wrong track there, boys!” He sat back, smiling. “But being taken to the fort at Sedan was quite interesting. The castle goes back to the fourteen hundreds. The biggest fortified medieval castle in Europe, some people say. Apparently you chaps beat Napoleon the Third there in eighteen something or other which led to the unification of Germany. Pity about that.” 

He turned to the wall again. “Pity about that, don’t you think?” Then he went on, “After a day or two your nice Luftwaffe people came to take me away. Funny, that; I never thought I’d see the day when I’d be happy to come face to face with the Luftwaffe, but there it is. No offence, of course.”

“None taken. That’s the expression, isn’t it?”