Chapter Text
LOCATION: RONDANE MOUNTAINS, NORWAY
MANDAG 17 MARS
LOCAL TIME: 0600
The deafening clatter of a Cherokee two-propeller helicopter echoed over the huge, snow-capped mountains of eastern Norway. Despite the clear blue sky, icy winds had picked up since lift-off and the machine juddered and bounced in the “bumps” – pockets of warmer air swept up from the heat of the towns below where it met the gusts of colder air coming down from the Arctic Circle. Soon there was nothing below the chopper but acres of wintry white peaks sweeping for countless miles in every direction, and here and there great plumes of powdery snow spiralled into the air in flurries.
Inside the helicopter, hunched up against the grey metal of the launching bay, Isak squatted, one gloved hand on the slipdoor in readiness. On his back was a Bergen backpack with jerrycan, dried ration packs, a radio set, survival kit and his poling gear. His padded helmet and snow-weather goggles were strapped over his cropped, tufted hair, and his breath clouded in the subzero temperatures that filled the aircraft. He sent a quick, critical glance over to the rest of his team where they sat opposite him, dressed identically in extreme-weather army fatigues and boots.
Their pilot Christoffer Schistad’s voice came over the AV. “Drop time for Telemark team, five minutes and counting down. Squad captain, prepare to brief your troops. Over.”
“Briefing in progress, pilot, over and out.” replied Isak. He adjusted his radio mike that connected him with the team – with the deafening roar from the Cherokee’s engines no one could otherwise hear each other speak. Although they all knew the system of hand gestures that would serve them for communication if their batteries ran down in the freezing altitudes, now was the time to brief them in person.
His squad – Yousef Acar, Magnus Fossbakken, Chris Berg and Noora Saertre – gazed at him expectantly, bristling with expectation like dogs about to be set off the leash. Isak knew that look; the winner’s instinct was essential in Army manoeuvres like these, and what they needed was a calm, collected captain to harness that instinct and lead them to victory.
“Team Telemark, do you all read me?”
“Yes, sir!” replied a jumble of voices in his ear and Isak nodded shortly, holding up a hand for silence. “This wilderness of snow beneath us are the mountains of the Rondane Nasjonalpark. Our mission is to parachute in on the slopes of Storronden Ridge, hack eastwards by foot to the peak of Gravskardhøgda and construct a radio transmitting station there, all in the shortest possible time.
“As we know, we’re up against two other teams from the Krigsskolen –” at this there was a groan of assembled catcalls and booing in his ear and he held up a gloved finger to check them – “yes, and they'll be hot on our heels, so the race is on.
“Terrain below is extreme winter weather conditions, it’s mainly hilly peaks with some woods and some iced-over lakes so we’ll do most cross-country on pole skis, pulling our pulks with us. It’s a twenty-nine hour hack even in good weather, so we’ll have to build dug-outs as overnight shelters. Once we reach Gravskardhøgda we’ll assemble the radio and transmit our position. Schistad will be standing by with a BV at Terningmoen barracks; upon receipt of our radio message and location he’ll come to collect us and take us to back to base. First team through the gates wins. And who’s that team going to be?” He looked around at the faces staring at him through their iced-up goggles. “It’s going to be us, isn’t it!”
“Yes sir!” chorused his team with one voice.
Isak raised a gloved hand to his ear. “Are we going to beat the two other teams from Krigsskolen?”
“YES SIR YES SIR!” roared his team enthusiastically, all save one.
The fifth member of the team sat hunched apart, glaring down at the floor. Isak turned towards him and raised his voice. “Cadet Bech Naesheim! Who’s going to be the first team back to Terningmoen barracks?”
Even pushed back his goggles and turned his blue gaze unwillingly on Isak, his face a noncommittal mask. “Us, I guess, yeah.”
“Yes what?” Isak felt himself getting irritated, calm down, his rational brain thought to himself, don’t let him get under your skin. But his fuming lips didn’t get the memo, and before he could stop himself he’d leaned forward, fingers trembling a little in mingled pride and anger. “What was that, Cadet Naesheim?”
“Yes, Captain Valtersen,” replied Even in a sneering, offhand voice, a slight smirk on his lips. “We’re going to be the first team back to the Winter War School.”
Isak scowled at him, his stomach feeling slightly unsettled in the way it always did when Even acted up like that, but at that moment Schistad’s voice came across the AV. “Briefing time now complete, Telemark squad, prepare your jumping positions please. Over.”
“Received and understood, pilot,” returned Isak, shooting Even a furious look as he switched off the radio mike, performing the series of hand signals to indicate the order in which the team would exit the aircraft.
Damn you, Bech Naesheim, he thought angrily to himself as he hauled back the hatch and signalled for his first squaddie to take their dive. You’re the one person I didn’t want in my squad, and you’re the one person who could cost us this win.
***
LOCATION: OSLO KRIGSSKOLEN TRAINING ACADEMY
TORSDAG 29 FEBRUAR @ 1800
“Why’s Valtersen going to be squad captain?” snapped Even, his blue eyes blazing in fury from under his cadet’s cap pulled low over his forehead.
“What do you mean, why’s Valtersen going to be squad captain?” Isak rapped back at him. “Because my officer training scores are one of the highest in our form! Because the last time we did a cross-country run I was in the top three, and my team finished first on the wall-building exercise!”
Even shot him down with a glance. “And my presentation on enemy cluster positions was the highest-graded in our year, and my team always finish first on munitions prep.”
“Oooh,” taunted Isak with barely restrained fury. “The cleaning exercise. Yeah, I bet with all that practice your wrist gets you can really make your rifle shine –”
Captain Dahl hit the desk before him with his knuckles. “Quiet, both of you! Any more of this and you’ll be demoted from the graduation programme altogether!”
Isak and Even jumped to attention immediately and saluted. “Yes sir!”
Dahl threw a furious glance at them. “I don’t understand. You are two of the best cadets in your year and yet you persist in not working together. You do realise that this upcoming field mission will determine whether you graduate from Krigsskolen or not?”
“YES SIR!” barked Isak and Even in chorus.
“Well then, I expect you to behave accordingly, not merely as officers, but as gentlemen too!”
Even stared impassively in front of him as Dahl started to lecture them angrily, but Isak bit his lip and gazed at the floor.
Inwardly he knew he couldn’t afford not to graduate. The military programme at Oslo’s War School had been Isak’s saving grace after he dropped out of Nissen with a year to go, no home to live in, no family and no money to his name. If he could only graduate, he would automatically be promoted to second lieutenant in the Norwegian Army, which meant a job, a purpose, and most importantly, somewhere to live and call home.
“I apologise, sir,” put in Even with an effort as Dahl’s dressing-down drew to a close, “but as you know, I had originally been made captain of Bergen team, and it wasn’t my fault that my team had to be reallocated.”
Two cadets in Bergen team had come down with food poisoning on the eve of the field mission and three alone were not enough to run a squad despite Even’s protests, so Dahl had decided to allocate one remaining cadet to each of the existing teams of Stavanger, Narvik and Telemark – and as luck would have it, Even had been reallocated to Isak’s Telemark team – or demoted, as he evidently saw it.
Isak knew that the slight would have been even harder to bear because Even’s girlfriend Sonja was also leading the rival team of Stavanger, and Isak’s best friend Sana Bakkoush was commanding Krigsskolen’s Narvik team.
“It seems to me,” put in Lieutenant Tryggvason from the corner where he had been leaning, “that this is exactly the test that is needed. Are you two able to put aside your differences and work together for the common good? Will you issue and take orders for the success of your squad rather than your own pride? Because, as you know, that is what being in the Army is all about.”
Even swallowed with a gigantic effort and Isak could see his fingers trembling out of the corner of his eye. “Yes, sir.”
“Dismissed,” returned Commander Dahl and pushed his chair back from his desk. Even saluted, stepped back smartly and marched furiously from the room.
As he exited, Isak could swear that he could hear Even muttering, “Just don’t make me call him sir.”
“One piece of advice.” Captain Tryggvason stepped forward to forestall Isak’s departure. “You’re a good Plan A soldier, Valtersen, but officers always have to think of a Plan B. When things go wrong – and they will out there, in subzero temperatures and difficult terrain – that’s what you struggle with. Naesheim’s a brilliant cadet, but he’s also unpredictable and he’ll need good leadership. This is your test, Valtersen. Can you rise to the challenge of captain?”
Isak felt his eyes prickle and his skin heat up at Tryggvason’s words. He knew he was a good officer cadet – he had a keen brain, skilled at working out logistics and planning. He could hold a huge amount of information in his head such as directions, coordinates, the way to build, make and assemble things, often from scratch. In most of the Army manoeuvres he was the MVP of a team, always there with a vision and a suggestion to help things go smoothly.
Whereas Even was the brilliant maverick leader type, always able to switch plans half way through or come up with an ingenious solution to a remarkable problem. He also had this facility to make everyone watch him – a kind of magnetic charm that could pull you round to his point of view even though you knew it was a bad idea – with one of those smiles he could inspire people, he was the type that would make you feel you’d go into enemy fire for him, into the face of hell if he wished it, and that was the most valuable thing an officer on the ground could possess.
Isak hated that Even could make him feel that way – on the one hand he envied that charm – envied it badly – but it was this irresistible pull towards him that he hated the most of all.
“Valtersen,” said Tryggvason gently. “We wouldn’t have made you captain unless we thought you’d got it in you. Is there anything else – anything between you and Naesheim that is getting in the way of working together?”
“No sir,” lied Isak, his heart heavy – fuck, where would he even start – and Tryggvason winked. “Okay then. Don’t let me down, Squad Captain.”
Isak saluted and stalked after Even through the mess door, instantly turning in the opposite direction so he wouldn’t have to see that tall figure walking in front of him with its confident, slender bearing or the toss of his short fair hair that he absolutely most definitely wasn’t staring at right now.
He blew out his cheeks. Whatever happened, he would have to get through the upcoming field mission with Naesheim intact. Krigsskolen had been his big chance and he couldn’t fuck graduating now, not when he’d come so far.
Tryggvason was right. Isak was good at planning and strategizing, he knew that.
The one thing he couldn’t plan and strategise was Even Bech Naesheim.
***
LOCATION: RONDANE MOUNTAINS, NORWAY
TIME: MANDAG 17 MARS @ 0800
A freezing blast of air erupted around Isak driving all thoughts from his mind as he ducked his head and flung himself spread-eagled out of the trapdoor underneath the Cherokee, seeing the white fields below suddenly spin and circle as he plummeted through the air. Adrenalin coursed through his veins – this was always his favourite part – parachuting was a rush that no drug would ever come close to. Automatically he counted to ten before the snap and shock of his parachute opening suddenly brought him up short, and he dropped his hand from the emergency toggle. He’d never have a parachute fail on him before, but the drill was always to expect the unexpected.
Floating down through the icy air, borne up as if by a huge white cloud, he guided the ropes of his parachute to where he could see the rest of his team already dotted around the lower slopes of Storronden ridge, struggling to pull their parachutes off and roll them up. As this was a live exercise, the first thing they would have to do was bury their parachutes – they would have to conceal them if parachuting into hostile territory – so the team could be seen digging busily into the snow to complete stage one of their task. Even at this distance he could pick out Even, the tallest figure of the group – already completing his parachute disposal, large gloved hands scooping great holes in the snow –
Focus, Isak!
The ground was shooting up towards him oddly fast and Isak kicked himself; he hadn’t been concentrating to angle his landing right. If he hit the ground at this speed he could be confident of sustaining a twisted ankle at the least.
And the last thing they all needed was a captain with injury in the first five minutes because guess who would be taking over the squad then –
With a last-minute jerk he pulled on the parachute ropes to change course, found himself dragged across the snow by a gust of wind and then there was a savage ripping sound as sharp branches poked through the canopy of his parachute and he slewed to a stop.
He swore inwardly. Fuck. His last minute turn had taken him into a small, scrubby line of trees, where he hung ignominiously from the higher branches, suspended by his straps, his dangling snow-boots a few feet from the ground.
“Well hello up there, captain,” Even’s voice floated up to him. “Need a hand?”
Isak kicked at him crossly. “I’m fine. I just need –” and he swung round again helplessly – “I just need to unbuckle myself.”
But his straps were twisted and his gloved fingers were unable to release the catch so he circled round and round, hanging from the branches like a decoration on a Christmas tree, swearing under his breath.
This was not the start he had envisaged.
Even looked at him inscrutably as he took out his Swiss Army knife, put it between his teeth and started to scale the lower branches towards him. Isak clutched at it as Even drew near – the last thing he wanted was fucking Cadet Naesheim saving him – “Pass it here, cadet,” he gasped. “I can cut myself free.”
The taller cadet smirked. “I think that’s unlikely, Captain Valtersen,” as he reached above Isak and made a few practiced slashes at the ropes. The next moment Isak was bumping and skidding down the trunk to fall in a heap in the snowmound at the bottom of the tree and Even was climbing down after him.
Isak forced himself to his feet – the rest of his team had all finished their camouflage exercise and were wading towards him – and waved a hand at Even.
“Bring the parachute down from the tree, cadet!”
Even stopped short and gazed at him curiously. “You want me – to take your parachute down for you?”
“Yes, cadet,” rapped Isak angrily. “We’ll get marks deducted if we leave it visible and as squad captain my priority is to brief the team. Your orders, Naesheim, are to retrieve the parachute and bury it.”
If looks could kill, Isak would have fallen dead there and then. Even’s eyes narrowed. “Those are my orders, are they?”
“Those are your orders, cadet.” Isak found it hard to look into Even’s blue stare for any length of time without his chest hammering most annoyingly, and turned away with an effort.
“Telemark squad, your second briefing!”
***
LOCATION: A BEDROOM SOMEWHERE IN FROGNER, OSLO
THREE YEARS EARLIER
“What on earth?” Jonas turned to look at Isak in shock, a stream of blue smoke slipping from his lips. “You’re joining the Army?”
Isak stood in the middle of Jonas’s room, hands pushed into his pockets, feeling oddly shamed. “Yeah. Well, I’ve enrolled for officer training at the Krigsskolen. Now I’m eighteen, I thought –“ and he trailed off. He couldn’t meet his friend’s eye.
Jonas shook his head, oblivious to the coal of the joint burning dangerously close to his knuckle, seemingly rocked to his core. “So you – just went up to the War School? And signed up? Just like that?”
Isak shrugged. “Well yeah, Jonas. It’s not like I have tons of options. I don’t have a home any more, ever since my mum got sectioned – and your family have been great letting me stay and everything – but I’ve missed the rest of my year at Nissen, and I can’t repeat it. And there’s money – my dad’s gone on a bender again – and I really don’t know how else I can manage.”
“Stay here!” Jonas waved his arm around him at Isak’s duvet and satchel piled up on the end of his bed. “My folks love having you. I love having you. Repeat the year at Nissen if you need to, hell, repeat it again if that’s what it takes. What’s the issue, Issy?”
Isak swallowed. The one thing he couldn’t tell Jonas was the real issue.
He couldn’t tell his best friend how sharing his room was both an annoyance and a sweet torture, having to act natural while Jonas strolled around in nothing but his boxers half the time, or the way he slept naked when it was hot, blithely unconcerned to Isak’s hidden agony under the sweltering sheets.
He couldn’t tell him how hard it was to lie next to him on Jonas’s pillows, both of them stoned and giggling, while Jonas got touchy-feely as he always did when he was high and Isak would have to jerk off surreptitiously after his friend had fallen asleep.
He couldn’t tell him how it made him feel sick to sit playing Call Of Duty Zombie on his phone in the bath while Eva visited and have to see the used condom in the bin afterwards, or go to bed that night with the smell of her still lingering on Jonas’s pillows.
He had to get away from all of this, he just had to.
Jonas looked at him sympathetically, a look Isak always hated. He hated pity.
“But Isak – do you want to be a soldier?”
Isak shrugged. “Why not? It’s a job. Someone has to.”
Jonas arched his eyebrows in that supercilious way he had. “Real soldiers have to kill people, Issy.”
“Oh for God’s sake.” Isak flinched away from Jonas’s look. “Most of the stuff the Army does is digging wells or peacekeeping or stuff, so don’t get all high and mighty on me. You’ll be doing your military service soon, just like the rest of us. I’m just signing up a year early, that’s all.”
“I won’t be doing military service. I’ve got an exemption.” Jonas folds his arms. “You don’t have to serve in the army if you refuse on conscientious grounds. I’ll do my service helping old people or kids or refugees or something.”
Isak rolled his eyes. “Oh, well yay for you. You can afford principles. The rest of us can’t.”
You’ve got a home, a family and a girlfriend his inner voice screamed frantically. What do I have? A mother in Gaustad Hospital, a drunk for a dad and a giant crush on my straight best friend.
“I can certainly afford principles if it means not killing people,” said Jonas, his eyes suddenly black with hurt. “Do you know how many civilians the Norwegian Army has killed in Iraq alone? Fifty-two. That’s not terrorists, that’s ordinary people we’ve shot in the face in the dark because they haven’t stopped at checkpoints in time, or kids we knocked over by accident, or civilians we arrested and they wound up dead. Over half of them were children, Issy, don’t you ever read WikiLeaks?”
“Come on Jonas, I know you’re anti-war, but to think we can have a world without an Army is just unrealistic. Nobody likes collateral damage, but there’s some real bad guys out there, and we can all throw away our nukes and dance around in flower chains all we want but it won’t make any difference. We need a protection and a peacekeeping force, and that’s why I’m joining up.”
Jonas stared at him, and for the first time Isak saw his friend look really sad. Part of him exulted in a sick fashion for making Jonas feel something for a change, which was abruptly dashed when Jonas spoke in a low voice.
“You call dead children collateral damage, Issy? I'm glad you can justify it to yourself.”
Isak left Jonas’s house that same afternoon with his few belongings packed in a case.
“I’ll text you when I get there,” he said gruffly as he left.
“Yeah, I’ll message you tonight,” said Jonas offhandedly.
They didn’t.