Him or You: The Flowers of the Grass, #3

For all flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man is as the flowers of the grass... (Brahms, A German Requiem)

To the fallen of the Great War

„Denn alles Fleisch es ist wie Gras, und alle Herrlichkeit des Menschen wie des Grases Blumen..." (Brahms, Ein deutsches Requiem)

Den Gefallenen des Großen Krieges

I

Franz! He flung his arms round me, lifted my feet off the floor and swung me round.

You fucking hooligan!

He released me. Is that all the greeting I get? I desert my old comrades to come here, and you call me names!

I took hold of his shoulders and looked into his eyes, almost unable to believe that we were together again. We won’t be parted now, not till the Grim Reaper comes for us.

What the fuck else are you but a bloody hooligan? was all I said.

Guilty as charged!

I threw my tunic on my bed and my damp shirt after it, and got a clean one out of the drawer.

Are you happy with that bed? I asked.

Yes – it’s nice and light here by the window.

He smiled at me as I changed, his eyes warm. There was no hint of the bleakness that I’d seen too often since Verdun. Leave’s done you good.

How was Brandenburg?

The smile got warmer still. Beautiful. Lovelier than I have words for. I really did not want to leave. With the autumn colours and the evening light on the lake – it was like being in Heaven, I can tell you.

Apart from the hard labour.

You’re not joking. There’s about half a century of work to be done, and Pa’s messing about playing staff officers...

Oh, come on, you’re not being fair – I’m sure he’s more useful than that.

He’d be even more useful back on the sodding farm.

I had a sudden thought. ‘Tell my lazy bastard brother to get his arse here,’ he’d written.

You never told me Johnny was here.

That’s because I didn’t know! The bugger never tells me what he’s up to. I had a letter from Pa after you left – probably about the third one I’ve had this year – full of pride because Johnny’s in Kralewski’s squadron and no doubt on his way to being a famous ace with the Pour le Mérite!

Well, he has got one victory.

One whole one! I’ve got some catching up to do, then!

I tell you, it’s not as easy as it sounds.

Oh, I’ve no doubt of that.

Shall we go and have a look at the aircraft before lunch? I suggested.

Bloody good idea! I’ve waited a long time for this!

It had started to rain. Again. And the wind was picking up.

Looks like that’s it for flying today, he said.

Yes – hopefully it’ll be fine tomorrow and you can get your familiarisation done.

We linked arms and headed to the hangars. The aircraft had all been put away.

This one’s the Chief’s, I said as we entered Hangar One, and here’s Otto’s, with his Ace of Spades. God knows why, as he’s not a card player—

The symbol of death, Karl said.

Is it?

Of course.

I started laughing. It’s still God knows why, though – poor old Otto’s hardly the bringer of death. He doesn’t seem to be able to hit anything – not that I can talk!

Where’s yours?

In Hangar Two.

Zaffke was working in there, fitting a new aileron cable to Geschke’s Albatros. He dropped his spanner in amazement.

Sir! Sir! Oh, I don’t believe it!

Zaffke – how on Earth did you get here? Karl asked, astonished.

I’m an aircraftman now, sir, Zaffke said proudly. It’s much better than that hell-hole.

That’s for sure. There was a grim undertone in Karl’s voice.

Zaffke turned to me. Herr Leutnant saved my life at Verdun, he said. Twice.

Twice?! Karl exclaimed.

Yes, sir – you remember the first time was in the wood, our second day in – I was caught up in the brambles and the French machine guns were firing something dreadful, and then my arm got hit and the blood was spurting out...

Karl’s face had frozen. Zaffke was too carried away to notice.

... and you crawled to me and got my belt round my arm and stopped me bleeding to death, and I don’t know how you didn’t get hit as well – there were blokes getting hit all around us—

Now, now, Zaffke, there’s no need to get dramatic, Karl said, his tone distant, his eyes bleak.

Zaffke suddenly realised he was putting his foot in it.

Anyway, sir, I don’t think I ever thanked you, he said, sounding rather subdued.

No need... But I don’t remember the second time.

He perked up again. Well, sir, when I heard you were going to the fliers, I asked if they needed a master carpenter, and they took me out of the infantry straight away. I couldn’t believe how fast it happened.

Karl managed to smile, though it didn’t touch his eyes. Yes, I see. Well, it’s good to see you again. Your arm’s all right, I hope?

Yes, sir, it’s fine. Just a bit stiff sometimes. I kept loosening the belt, like you said, and being as it was nearly dark I didn’t have to wait long to go back.

Well, you’d better carry on, then.

Yes, sir! He picked up the spanner and got back to work.

Karl and I continued towards the back of the hangar in silence.

You really didn’t need that reminder.

We could have told Zaffke to shut up, but his delight at seeing Karl again was so genuine that neither of us had had the heart. And it was never going to be possible for Karl to avoid any mention of Verdun.

My aircraft’s just over here, I said. The one with the chessman on the side.

Why a knight? His voice was only fractionally warmer.

Because we jump over things, as it were!

He smiled and his face thawed a little, the shadow drawing back into his eyes. Yes, I suppose we do... Let’s go and warm up with a coffee or something.

I remembered, suddenly, Karl staring in horror at the large bramble patch at his old airfield. Now I understand – the French must have used them like barbed wire. And they would be even more impenetrable and once they had hold of you, you’d be truly stuck.

I wonder how many men died in them.

I linked my arm through his again as we walked back, hoping the contact would help.

Small world, I said in the lightest tone I could manage.

Yes... I’m glad he got out. It’s good to know someone did.

That spoke volumes.

He had me worried for a moment there, saying I’d saved his bacon twice, he added with an attempt at levity. I thought I must have forgotten something important!

We were at the steps up to the mess hut.

Have you met everyone? I asked.

He shook his head. Kralewski-Zentzytzki, of course, and I’ve seen Johnny, and... Oh God, what’s the fellow’s name? Bach?

Buchholz.

That’s the one.

Well, come and meet the rest of them! Oh, and we always just call Kralewski ‘the Chief’ – his full name’s such a mouthful.

Flying was obviously off and we started on the champagne just before lunch – with the excellent excuse that we had a new arrival. The afternoon degenerated into a fine piss-up, by the end of which Karl and I were sitting together on the floor with our arms round each other, joining in the singing.

It’s so good to have you here, I thought as we headed to our room in the early hours. It’s already starting to feel as if we were never apart.

Fortunately for Karl the following morning was foggy, and by the time the weather had cleared so had his head.

I gave him the familiarisation chat, and he came back ecstatic about the D.I and the twin Spandaus, but realistic about his chances of winning the Chief’s bottle of brandy. There wasn’t enough daylight left for their first mock combat, and his drinking was much more restrained that evening.

The last thing I need is a hangover tomorrow, he said as he left us to it.

We only had the Tommies to worry about, and we all got just as pissed as usual.

Geschke, Otto and I were down for dawn. It was only Geschke’s third flight as leader, and Otto and I were rather apprehensive.

He can fight – but can he think for three?

We had a couple of brief, inconclusive engagements, so the jury stayed out.

After breakfast the Chief turned to Karl. Right, Leussow K – you know the stakes!

Karl got up. Wish me luck, Franz – I’ve a feeling I’m going to need it!

He didn’t have a cat in Hell’s. He put up a reasonable fight, but had it been for real he’d have been dead.

I hope the Tommies don’t have too many like the Chief, he said to me over lunch.

You’ll be amazed how fast you pick it up. You did a pretty good job.

He pulled a face. Didn’t feel like it from where I was sitting.

Don’t worry, said Buchholz, he slaughtered all of us as well. Did he say when you’ll be over the lines?

Dawn tomorrow.

Buchholz raised his eyebrows. You made a good impression, then. I had to have a second day of training first.

Me too, said Otto.

Karl turned to Johnny. What about you, Scarface?

Oh, I had just the one day as well – mind you, when we met the Tommies I wished I’d had two!

You’re still here, though! Karl said.

I just had one day as well, said Bruch, and it’s all gone fine for me.

Johnny and Buchholz exchanged glances. Bruch must be having nightmares again, and the poor sod’s only been back a few days.

Not that I could talk – and I’d found out what Geschke had meant about listening to the guns. Some nights the sporadic shelling intruded into my dreams and I woke shaking and sweating.

Karl’s arrival had made things much better – his presence was comforting, as always, and his quiet snoring often blotted out the distant rumble of the artillery.

I was down for dawn the next day as well, with the Prof and Bruch. Schiffer woke Karl and me forty-five minutes before take-off, and we dressed quickly and made our way to the mess.

The Chief briefed us over coffee and rolls as usual, and then we were suiting up in the twilight and having a last cigarette, the tension in the air palpable.

Karl was very quiet, not taking part in any of the banter, and it reminded me of the trenches, of his calm focus at the start of his day’s work. He’d always avoided chat, had just gone in silence to his loophole.

If he can combine that focus and marksmanship with flying ability he’ll be bloody good.

The Chief looked at him a couple of times with frank curiosity, and I could see him wondering whether Karl’s stillness was due to concentration or nerves.

You’ll find out, I thought, remembering how steady Karl had been before we went in at Ypres in both ’14 and ’15. Even when things had got really messy he’d kept his head, and I’d always known I could rely on him. Enviable, that, to look straight at the possibility of death, accept it, and put it aside.

You must have done a bloody good job at Verdun – I’d follow you anywhere.

I settled myself into my Albatros, waved to Karl and then put him out of my mind. There was nothing I could do to help him. I could only hope he’d come back.

Or rather I tried to put him out of my mind. I only succeeded when we met the Tommies. The rest of the time I couldn’t help but wonder what was happening to him.

Everyone came back in one piece, and the first thing Karl said to me was, Christ, that formation flying’s bloody difficult!

I laughed. Don’t worry, you’ll pick it up in no time. I was all over the sky at first, but by the end of the second day I was a lot better, and it wasn’t long before I was able to look round as well.

There’s hope for me yet, then!

You did all right, said Buchholz, who’d been fourth man. Becker’s right – it’ll suddenly fall into place, the way landing did.

What did you think of it all? I asked later, in our room.

It’s a fucking sight better than being a two-seater ‘driver’. I’ve got a hell of a lot to learn – can’t turn tight enough yet, for one thing, and keeping track of everyone’s nigh on impossible – but I’m going to enjoy it.

What did the Chief say?

Oh, he seemed happy enough.

He was less happy that afternoon, when Karl collected rather a lot of holes.

The same thing happened to me, I told him over a beer before dinner.

And me, said Johnny.

Me too, added Otto.

The main thing is they didn’t hit you, said Geschke. And I expect you’ve found out how fucking difficult it is to hit them.

Karl laughed. Machine guns mounted above a vibrating engine are not exactly accurate!

Not quite the same thing as a rifle with a four-power sight, then! I said.

Christ, is that what you used? asked Geschke. Your brother said you’d been a sniper, but he didn’t say much about it.

That’s because he wasn’t there, Otto said.

How long did you do that? Bruch asked.

Oh, about eight months.

You must have got quite a few, then.

Some, Karl said neutrally.

What in God’s name possessed you to take the Express Ticket after that? Geschke asked.

You know, I’ve never managed to answer that!

Because he’s barking bloody mad, said Johnny. Always has been!

Karl gave him a thump on the arm. You can talk – just look at your face!

The stakes aren’t quite the same, Johnny pointed out. A sabre cut’s hardly the same thing as a bullet in the brain – though you wouldn’t have to worry about that, or about your heart, being as you don’t have either!

You can see why I wanted to get away from home! Karl said, laughing. I’ve had to listen to that sort of crap ever since I was a kid!

You could always have pulled rank and told him to shut up! said Buchholz.

Karl stared at him, baffled.

Being as you’re a good bit older, Buchholz added, as if stating the obvious.

There was a pause and then Johnny burst out laughing.

It’s the other way around! he said gleefully. "He’s my kid brother!"

It was Buchholz’s turn to look baffled. Bollocks! Anyone can see which way round it is.

I looked at Karl and Johnny, and could understand his confusion. You can see which one fought at Verdun and which was a staff officer.

No, Johnny said, suddenly serious. We’re not pulling your leg. I was born in ’94 and Karl in ’95 – he’s sixteen months younger than me.

There was an uneasy silence. Buchholz had gone rather red.

Mind you, I’ve got the sense to have a portrait in the attic, Johnny added, as casually as he could, while my brother’s sins are all etched on his face!

"Not all of them, I hope! said Karl, with a forced smile. And you’d better not look at that portrait – it’ll frighten the arse off you!"

There was a pause, and then the Prof said to him, You were at Verdun, weren’t you? Was it as bad as I’ve heard?

Karl smiled again, but his eyes were like flint. Depends what you’ve heard.

The Prof opened his mouth and closed it again, and then said slowly, I wasn’t in the trenches, so it’s hard for me to imagine what that sort of fighting’s like.

You know the saying about ignorance being bliss, Geschke said. A couple of the chaps I knew at Lichterfelde were there – one of them’s dead and the other’s missing half his face. He said it was ‘Abandon all hope ye who enter here’.

Karl was staring fixedly at his hands.

Time to change the subject...

That gets misquoted so often, Bruch said. "People say ‘Abandon hope all ye who enter here’, but the correct version’s much worse. I mean, once you abandon all hope that’s everything over, isn’t it?"

You need to get away from here for good, before you crack up completely.

I suppose you’ve read the original! Otto teased.

Yes, I have, Bruch replied. I was studying Italian, remember?

Oh yes, I’d forgotten.

Have you been to Italy much? asked Buchholz.

Yes, I spent six months travelling round – started in Turin and Milan, and then carried on south as far as Naples, via Venice and Verona and Florence. It’s the most beautiful country – I’ve always wanted to go and live there, maybe teach German or something.

As far as I’m concerned you can keep the bloody place, said the Prof. The bastards were supposed to be on our side, and they’ve left us in the lurch good and proper.

Yes, agreed Geschke, if the Austrians didn’t have to fight the Italians as well then we might not have to bail them out all the bloody time.

And the women are gorgeous, Bruch said with longing.

You just want unlimited fanny! Johnny said.

Who doesn’t? said Buchholz. Are they willing as well as gorgeous?

Oh, yes, said Bruch. Some of them, anyway.

You mean the ones you paid! Johnny said.

I got plenty for free, so there!

Just then Bleif announced dinner.

Where are the Chief and Fellmann? asked Geschke.

Still working, I think, answered Otto. I’ll go and get them.

I’d completely lost track of time, said the Chief. Amazing how much paperwork there is.

I’m glad I don’t have to run a squadron, I muttered to Johnny.

You and me both, he replied. The pen-pushing I did was more than enough for me!

When we got to our room Karl gave me a very level look. Franz, do I really look older than Johnny?

I hesitated.

Cheers, bastard, he said. You’ve just answered!

Only about half a century! I said flippantly, and he threw a pillow at me.

I threw it back. Age isn’t just what’s on the calendar, I said. It’s experience as well.

True...

That night he had a shocker of a nightmare and woke with a loud yell. I put the light on.

Sorry.

Don’t be daft – you haven’t heard mine yet! Shall I leave the light on?

Yes, please.

Too much talk about Verdun over the past couple of days. And meeting Zaffke again must have really brought it back.

The entire Jasta went up at dawn. It was a magnificent sight – nine Albatri forming into a Kette, a four and a pair over the field, and setting off west together, the rising sun glinting on our wings.

There is nothing finer than this in the whole world – that idea was immediately tempered by awareness of what we were going to do. Does that make it more beautiful or less?

Good subject for discussion over breakfast.

There was a layer of thin white cloud in the western sky. Better make the most of the good weather...

We split up over the Front. It was a shame, because the sight of all nine of us would have struck fear into the enemy, but the group was too big and the risk of colliding in a fight was too high.

Geschke led Otto and me again. He led far better than I’d expected, and sent a Nieuport down in flames as well. I almost felt sorry for the Tommy, but I thought of Burkhardt and my sympathy evaporated.

I was beginning to enjoy the business – having a light, manoeuvrable aircraft and a pair of Spandaus was great fun, but my frustration at being unable to shoot anything down was mounting.

Be realistic, Franz – you haven’t been here five minutes. It’ll come. Impatience is the last thing you need.

We were the second group back. The Prof and Johnny were just getting out of their aircraft as we taxied in.

Well done! Otto thumped Geschke on the back.

Bloody nice job! I said.

Get one, then? asked the Prof.

Nieuport – caught fire pretty thoroughly.

Poor sod, the Prof said. Never good to see.

Just have to hope it gets confirmed, said Geschke.

Party, anyway! Johnny said cheerfully.

Just then the Chief came back, Karl, Buchholz and Bruch with him. Good.

As they passed overhead we all looked at each other. One of the engines was running very rough, even at idle.

Bloody hell, that sounds bad, said Otto.

I wonder whose it is. Johnny looked at me, concerned.

If it’s Karl’s then it won’t be the first time, and if it’s Bruch’s then it takes away some of our suspicions about him.

Karl had real difficulty taxiing, and Zaffke and Braun ran out to help pull his aircraft in.

The reason for the rough running became clear when he reached the flight line. There were several holes in the nose.

Bugger got the deflection completely wrong! he said with a grin.

Just as well, said the Chief, with a very straight expression.

That’s a lot of holes. Karl won’t enjoy the debrief – though I don’t suppose he really cares. The worst thing the Chief can do is send him back to the two-seater squadron.

What did the Chief say? I asked him after breakfast.

Told me he didn’t want to see that many holes again – but he was reasonably happy with the rest of it, said I don’t need a fourth man any more.

You’re doing bloody well. If your flying’s as good as your shooting then the Tommies are in for a nasty surprise.

We just managed to fly again before the weather closed in.

Leussow K, you take Buchholz’s aircraft, said the Chief. Buchholz, you can give Fellmann a hand with the spares order.

Sorry, Karl said, looking at Buchholz’s glum face.

Don’t worry – you need the practice more than I do.

The Prof and I provided an escort for a two-seater that had some pictures to take. It went off quite well – we had a scrap with a couple of Sopwiths, but they soon buggered off.

By the time we waved goodbye to the two-seater crew, the clouds were appreciably lower and the wind was pretty fresh. We’d accompanied them all the way back to their base, and had quite a struggle to get home with a quartering headwind blowing us off track all the time.

I was bloody frozen after such an uneventful flight, though I never could decide whether a hard fight left me warmer or colder. Temporarily definitely warmer, but then the sweat on my body would pull the heat out of me – but no hard fight meant I never got warm in the first place.

Too fucking complicated.

Johnny and Karl had flown with the Chief, who’d got an English two-seater.

It was beautifully done, Karl said to me as we changed. Made me bloody glad to be on the same side – they didn’t know he was there until it was far too late.

And how was flying with Johnny?

He laughed. Really good! It was quite something to look across at his aircraft – we never dreamt of that when we were kids playing soldiers!

I’ll bet you didn’t!

The Wright brothers hadn’t even flown then, and fast, sleek aeroplanes with machine guns would have been straight out of Jules Verne.

Two victories in one day made a double excuse for a party, and to our surprise and delight there was a third excuse. We were having a beer before dinner when the Chief came into the mess with a blue and gold cross at his collar. In a second we were all on our feet, applauding.

Many congratulations, sir, said Fellmann, and we echoed him and then cheered the Chief until he started blushing.

About time too, Otto said to me.

I couldn’t work out why they hadn’t given it to him already, said the Prof. I mean, other fellows with the same score had one.

We took turns to congratulate the Chief in person – apart from anything else we were all curious to actually see a Pour le Mérite.

Really beautiful, I thought, admiring the rich blue enamel and the gold eagles. Now that’s something to aspire to...

So when did you know about it, sir? asked Johnny.

The Chief smiled. Oh, a few days ago – but I thought I’d keep it dark until it actually arrived!

I was sworn to secrecy, and so was Möller, said Fellmann. He took the telegram, and I swear he was almost bursting with excitement!

Christ, I wouldn’t play cards with Möller, Geschke said. All the times I’ve been in the Ops Office in the past week, and you’d never have guessed he was sitting on a secret like that.

By that time it was pissing down and the rain was rattling against the windows, so the brakes were off the drinking. Even if it clears, the field will be too wet, I thought as my glass was refilled yet again. The Chief was a generous man and the champagne kept flowing.

Late in the evening, long after the Chief had left us, Buchholz put the Liesl song on the gramophone.

Why is no one singing? Karl asked me after a minute or so.

Because I haven’t taught them the words, I replied.

Franz, for fuck’s sake!

He dragged me to the table, picked up one of the silver coffee pots and banged hard on the wood, just as the song came to an end.

The mess fell silent.

Gentlemen, he announced, our friend here has been guilty of an horrendous crime...

No, Karl, for fuck’s sake don’t say that! They’ll convene the Court of Riotous Behaviour—

What’s that, then? demanded Buchholz with an unholy gleam in his eye.

He hasn’t taught you the correct words to that song, Karl finished.

There was a chorus of What words? and Go on, then, sing!.

Karl linked his arm through mine. Geschke, if you would, please?

Geschke wound up the gramophone and put on the wrong song.

No, not that one! Karl shouted. The one you had on a minute ago.

What’s it called? asked Geschke.

I don’t bloody know, Karl said. I’ve forgotten it’s got another name!

Another name than what? demanded Bruch.

The Liesl song, Karl replied.

Hang on, said Geschke, I think it’s this one.

I won’t claim that Karl and I sang in tune, but no one cared. They listened in delighted silence, and then burst into raucous laughter, shouting, Encore! Encore!

So we sang it again, and this time they started to join in the chorus. By the fourth time through they had the words of the first verse as well.

That’s fucking brilliant! The Prof was almost crying with laughter. Who the hell made that up?

It was one of my old squadron mates, I said, and being as Karl’s squadron was based nearby we used to have get-togethers, so they learned it as well.

Let’s sing it again! shouted Johnny, and we did.

I reckon poor Liesl needs a rest! Karl said, and the two of us went back to sitting on the floor, propped against the wall.

As the party got noisier we moved closer together. It was the only way we could hear ourselves talk.

This is what I missed most of all, and it’s even better now, because at the end of the evening neither of us has to go home. Somehow his being in the same room as me seemed to make losing him less likely.

That was a stupid idea, but at least I knew I’d see a lot more of him until – whatever – happened.

Just so long as no one gets that daft idea that Schalich had about us being queer, I thought as Karl lit our cigarettes yet again.

Johnny wandered over and joined us.

Give us a smoke, Bruv, he said, sitting down on Karl’s other side, his leg against Karl’s.

Karl got out his silver case, Johnny took a cigarette and Karl lit it with his silver lighter.

Bet you didn’t use those in the trenches, Johnny said, taking a long drag and putting an arm round his brother’s shoulders.

He certainly did! I said. And the holder as well!

Keeps the smoke out of my eyes, Karl said. Cools it down a bit as well – you should try it.

Not with one of your horrible black fags, I said.

At least they’re not anaemic like yours!

It’s good to see you happy. He was almost his old carefree self, and that made me happy as well.

I glanced across the room and saw Fellmann looking at us with an expression I couldn’t read. Then I realised it was Johnny he was gazing at, but before I could put a name to the look in his eyes Buchholz handed him another drink, and he turned away again.

What was that about? I was so drunk it was difficult to see one Fellmann rather than two, never mind interpret whatever was on his face.

Eventually we decided it was time for bed, and made it to our feet at the third attempt.

The rain lashing into our faces almost sobered us up, but not quite. The mud was very slippery, and I thought we were all going to take a bath.

We dropped Johnny at the steps up to his hut and carried on to ours, slithering and sliding.

Don’ wanna fall over ’gain, I mumbled.

You won’t – I’ve got you!

You’re jush as pished as me.

No ’m not.

And he wasn’t, either, which was very unfair considering we’d had the same amount to drink.

’m bloody gla’ you’re here, I managed to say as we staggered into our room.

I’m bloody glad I’m here too, he replied with a smile, then lowered me gently onto the edge of my bed and took my boots off.

The next thing I knew dawn was creeping through the thin curtains. I was lying fully dressed on my bed, and Karl was fast asleep on top of his bed, snoring quietly. He hadn’t bothered to undress either.

Well, we’re both used to it. I fell asleep again until Schiffer brought our shaving water.

It had stopped raining, and there was a brisk breeze which promised to dry the field out, hopefully in time for flying in the afternoon. The evenings were really drawing in, and if we weren’t airborne by three it would be too dark to land.

Hardly anyone was at breakfast. Those who were there had the same red-rimmed eyes and crumpled uniform as I did, and presumably the same thumping head. The bright sunshine was so unpleasant that I had to sit with my back to the window.

Let’s go and see how my aircraft is, Karl said after our third cup of coffee. The fresh air might clear your head!

We both slipped more than once in the short distance from the mess to the hangars.

This isn’t looking promising, I said.

The Chief was coming the other way, his Blue Max glinting in the autumn sun.

Morning, sir, we both said.

Lovely day, Karl added.

Yes... not too sure about the state of the field, though. The middle’s still very wet. I’ll have another look after lunch, decide then what we’re going to do.

Karl’s Albatros was still in the hangar, minus its engine.

Needs a new one, sir, Zaffke reported. Come and look at the old one.

Bloody hell, Karl said. That’s well buggered!

Leutnant Fellmann said it should be here tomorrow, sir, so we should have her ready for you the day after that, or maybe even tomorrow afternoon, if it gets here early.

Good.

We’ll get her running as smooth as silk for you, sir.

Zaffke had obviously decided to look after Karl’s aircraft himself.

You were lucky, I said. If he’d got the deflection right—

Yes, but he didn’t, did he?!

He’s probably got my problem, I said when we left the hangar.

What’s that?

Pouring lead into their aircraft without hitting the pilot – or rather without hitting him badly enough to make a difference.

It’s not easy, is it? Though at the moment I’m still working on getting into a suitable position – and that’s not easy either.

No... but I really need to improve my shooting. It’s getting so frustrating. I’ve been pretty sure I’ve hit the pilot more than once, but... well...

He kept flying.

Exactly.

Tell you what – if there’s no flying after lunch, let’s borrow a rifle from one of the ground crew and you can show me what the problem is. I take it the Chief’s happy for us to practise on the ground targets?

Yes, perfectly.

The ground was still too wet.

If this carries on we’ll have to look for another airfield, the Chief said to Fellmann. Or we’ll be properly buggered when winter comes.

That’s if we can find somewhere drier, Bruch muttered. This is Flanders.

Zaffke was more than happy to lend Karl his rifle, and showed him where the ammunition was stored.

You did take mine before, sir, after all! he said cheerfully.

Karl tried to smile. I’d forgotten it was yours I took – I do remember it was well looked after, though.

Thank you, sir! Zaffke said proudly.

You’ve got a friend for life there, I said to Karl after we left the hangar.

It was a bit of a bad situation.

You mean you got slaughtered.

Still, I felt a lot happier with a rifle in my hands! he added.

Bet the French didn’t like it!

I wasn’t looking forward to lying in the cold mud, but we found some empty sandbags to make it a bit more comfortable.

Christ, it’s been a while since I used one of these, I said. Nearly a year, in fact.

And two hundred metres looks a bloody long way after getting in so close in the air.

Like riding a bike, he replied.

Yes, but you’ve never stopped practising, have you?

He just grinned at me. Franz, stop talking and start shooting!

We inspected the target, and he said, Well, that’s perfectly competent. Come on, you wouldn’t have complained if any of your fellows had done that.

Being ‘perfectly competent’ isn’t getting the results I want. You’re going to laugh, but I’d like to be able to shoot like you.

He didn’t laugh. He looked at me as if I’d said I wanted to fly my Albatros to the moon. Franz, I don’t mean to insult you, but that’s not likely to happen... Look, when did you learn to shoot?

My Uncle Simon taught me, when I was about fifteen. He used to take me hunting.

Fifteen. And how often did you go out?

Maybe once, twice a month in the season.

And how much practice did you do?

Well, some... I knew Karl had grown up shooting, but I’d never heard the details. What about you?

"Everyone shoots in the Brandenburg backwoods, so your Pa starts teaching you as soon as he thinks you’re old enough. I think I was about ten. And he dinned into me that it was shameful to let an animal run away injured to die in pain, and said he’d only take me hunting when he was satisfied that I was accurate enough.

"And of course I wanted to go out with the men, so I practised. And practised. And then Pa did take me hunting, and I... well, I found I really disliked it, as I think I’ve told you – reducing a beautiful creature to a lump of meat...

"So I made up my mind to cause as little pain as possible. Pa didn’t care how much ammunition I used – I think he was pleased I was doing something he actually approved of. By the time he gave me that Zeiss sight I’d fired thousands and thousands of rounds, and I could hit pretty well whatever I wanted. And you know the rest.

So no, you are not going to shoot like me. But you can shoot a bloody sight better than you are doing, I’m sure of that – though it’s going to take a lot of work.

Will it carry over to the Spandaus?

Should do... Try being a bit more creative. Use your imagination. Learn to draw things.

"Draw things?"

He fixed a plain sheet of paper onto the target and then shot ten holes in it. Eight of them formed an almost perfect circle, the first two bearing witness to his use of a borrowed weapon.

Fucking hell. No wonder you were so shit-hot with your own rifle and that four-power sight. Poor Tommies didn’t stand a chance.

What really got me was the leisurely, almost casual, way he’d done it, and that the break to reload had had absolutely no effect.

You don’t expect me to be able to do that?! I said.

No, of course not. But get as close to it as you can, and I promise you’ll see a difference in the air... By the way, if you ever do manage that, I’ll buy you dinner in Berlin and a night with a high-class tart!

Your money is perfectly safe. I looked at that circle, shaking my head.

Start by going round the rings on the target, he suggested.

It was fucking difficult – the lines looked so narrow and at first I couldn’t hit them at all, but after about half an hour I was beginning to improve.

Thanks, I said. I’ll be out here every day – well, maybe not when it’s pissing down!

You’d better ask the Chief how much ammunition you can use – you don’t want to get too expensive.

He started picking up the empty cases.

Force of habit, he said. You never leave these lying around, or you can guarantee some Tommy patrol will find them and mark the place... And these days we need the metal.

True. I thought of the thousands that just went over the side of the aircraft. But the more accurate I become the less I’ll waste.

We bumped into Geschke on our way back to the mess. He looked at the sheet of paper in Karl’s hands.

What’s that?

Oh, nothing, Karl said casually.

Bollocks! I said. Geschke, tell me, can you do that?

I took the paper from Karl and handed it to him.

Geschke stared at it for a moment before realising what it was. He looked at Karl with sudden respect.

Hang on, he said, you did this?

Yes.

What range?

Two hundred.

Geschke raised his eyebrows. What with?

Zaffke’s rifle, of course. Christ, you don’t think I’d manage that with a fucking pop-gun?!

If you did I’d reckon you could walk on water! But no, Becker, I don’t think I could do this. In fact I know I couldn’t.

Well, have you tried? Karl asked.

No.

Maybe you’d get a surprise, then!

Mind if I borrow this? Geschke asked.

You can have it.

Ten minutes later we were sitting in the mess, over coffee and cigarettes with Bruch and Otto, when the Chief came in.

Ah, Leussow, he said. Johnny looked up from across the room.

The Chief shook his head. No, it’s Leussow K I’m after.

Johnny went back to his magazine, and Karl looked up with a bit of a start.

Sorry, sir – I was miles away. 

I believe this is your work, the Chief said, with an approving gleam in his eye. He held out the sheet of paper.

Yes, it is.

Mind doing it again, in front of all of us?

No, sir, of course not.

He borrowed Zaffke’s rifle again and repeated the performance in front of the entire squadron, completely unaffected by having an audience.

That’s bloody good shooting, Buchholz said.

Anyone else fancy a go? asked the Chief.

I’ll give it a bash, Geschke said, but he was right – his circle was more of a ragged approximation.

My turn, said the Chief, and produced quite a credible effort.

Everyone had a go, with variable results. Otto’s was truly awful.

That’s more like an egg! Johnny said.

Show me the chicken that can lay a thing that shape! said Bruch.

It’s a starfish, Geschke said. You can see its arms! 

Well, that gives us all something to do when we can’t fly, the Chief said at the end. We can have a running competition – the fellow who produces the best circle each week gets a bottle of bubbly. Except you, Leussow K!

Karl pulled a face of mock disappointment.

Oh, and anyone who wins three times is barred from winning again.

I’d better check the ammunition stores, Fellmann said.

We wandered back to the mess.

How about a trip to Claudette’s? suggested Buchholz.

Karl looked at me. I take it that’s the knocking shop?

Certainly is, I replied. The girls aren’t bad, either.

What do you mean, aren’t bad?! retorted the Prof. That Christine really knows what she’s doing.

She told me she’s retiring soon, Geschke said with a very straight face.

What?!

Yes – said she’s almost made enough. Wants to go into business as a milliner.

Terrible loss to the oldest profession, the Prof said sadly. Then he brightened up. But she won’t have any customers until after the war.

Not here, you stupid sod, said Geschke. In Brussels. She’s got a sister there.

Oh. Well, we’d better get our arses to Claudette’s before it’s too late, then!

I’ll second that! Johnny said, and went to ask the Chief if we could borrow the car.

Six pilots squeezed into the car. The Prof was most unhappy to find that Christine was busy, but Claudette produced a new girl who was, apparently, almost as good.

You’d better hope Mrs Prof never finds out what you get up to! Buchholz teased on the way home.

What – there’s a Mrs Prof?! Johnny asked, astonished.

Don’t sound so surprised! said the Prof.

And does she do research into electro-thingummy-bob as well? Johnny teased.

Yes, actually, she does.

Come on, said Geschke, you don’t expect us to believe that!

Oh, it’s true, replied the Prof. She’ll finish her PhD long before I do. We were working together, but now she’s working with another fellow instead. I hope work is all they do – but then I’m screwing tarts, so I can’t complain if she’s having a bit of fun too, can I?

Is that who that letter was from? asked Buchholz. "All covered in formulae