Live, Love, Lose - 1. Chapter 1

"If you are going through hell, keep going.”
― Winston Churchill

~

April 1940

“This time, I’m gonna do it.”

Karl had a fierce determination in his eyes reflected perfectly by the tone in his voice. He moved closer to the thing that had been his arch enemy for so long.

“This time I’m gonna empty the manure pit without running away after less than one minute spent in it.”

He had always found it disgusting, for as long as he could remember. Well, who could possibly like such a thing? Only the pigs.

Taking a deep breath he went down into it. It took everything he had not to throw up and stay put. Well, it would have made some more fertiliser if he had. Even though he doubted its quality.

He thought he would never see the end, but he finally finished and felt so proud of himself for keeping true to his word. He hadn’t given up. He had kept going to the end.

He had to tell his parents about it, and went looking for them. They couldn’t be far. As he was walking in the direction of the house, he saw a group of men leaving, but they were not close enough to notice his presence. He wondered who they were, and what they were doing. They were definitely not farmers, let alone people from the village. If they had been, he would have recognised them.

He turned his attention to searching for his parents and found them near the barn. It appeared they were having a heated conversation. Was it about the men he had just seen?

He stopped in his tracks, observing them from a distance. They looked grave and concerned, even from where he stood it wasn’t hard to notice. After a while, they both fell silent, frozen on the spot, avoiding each other’s gaze rather awkwardly.

What were they waiting for?

Although he couldn’t hear what had been said from where he was, he could still sense that something wasn’t right. He was not stupid.

He decided to get closer to them as he saw they weren’t willing to speak any more or to move. Their lack of reaction was intriguing. He needed to know what was going on.

“What’s up? Who were those men?” He asked quizzically as soon as he was near them.

His parents didn’t reply. They regarded him with concerned looks on their faces. Especially his father. His mother, even when she looked worried, still seemed to have a stern expression on her face.

Karl looked back at them intently, his gaze going back and forth between his father and his mother.

He waited a little before speaking again.

“I have a right to know,” he said. His tone a mix of firmness and slight hesitation, fearing he might be scolded by his parents for daring to address them like that.

He noticed his mother’s features becoming harder and his father’s brow furrowing.

“I…” he began hesitantly.

“Just go inside,” his father demanded, “farm work is over for today.”

To say that Karl was surprised by his father’s words would be an understatement. But he didn’t dare question his father’s decision.

His gaze fell to his feet before giving a last glance at his parents, then turning away to leave swiftly.

Once inside the house, he went to his room, deeming it the best thing to do in this rather awkward situation. He closed the door and sat on the edge of his bed. It was far from being a comfortable bed, but better than sleeping on the hard floor. His room was empty, bare,not big, without any furniture to fill the void, only a small bed to sleep in, placed against the wall opposite the door. It was all he needed, somewhere to sleep. The walls were white, not a clean or pure white, but rather a dirty white, proving that this room was far from brand new. There were cracks in the wall, no curtains or shutters for the single window on the wall opposite to hide the moonlight, but Karl didn’t mind that at all.

He didn’t know what to do, so he remained silent and still on his bed, like a serious disciplined schoolboy, his hands resting in his lap. He was so used to toiling on the farm and in the fields all day long that he didn’t know how to keep himself busy with nothing to do.

He stared blankly at the door as if waiting for his parents to come in.

At some point, he became aware of some noise, which could only have been his parents’ voices.

Shortly after he had gone to his room, his parents had entered the house, and his father had started to gather some things and pack them hastily into some sort of linen bag, unbeknownst to Karl.

He stood up from his bed and moved next to the door, opening it as discreetly and slowly as possible so it was slightly ajar.

“You can’t do that!” He heard his mother shout angrily.

He couldn’t see what was happening, but hearing was already enough.

“We have no choice, Inge! Don’t you understand? That’s the only viable solution I’ve found!”

“Of course we have a choice! Don’t say such silly things! You’ve completely lost your mind, my poor Aleksander! We can’t send our son to England! He will know no one there, he will have nowhere to live, and he does not even speak English! He will never survive on his own there!”

“I’d rather send my son to a foreign country which he doesn’t know at all than let the Nazis take him away,” his father replied in a stern tone, a tone that almost sounded threatening. “At least, England and its people don’t share the Nazis’ ideals. Do you hear me, Inge? Over my dead body, I will never let that happen!”

“I wish you could hear yourself… Why do you hate the Nazis so much? They won’t do anything to Karl, they won’t hurt him! They may have ideals that you don’t like, but it’d be safer for Karl to go with them rather than for him to be lost in a country full of people we don’t know and cannot trust. Okay, our country has been annexed, and we have no other choice than to accept it and live with it now! Why should Karl run away? It’s still his country and roots. He was born here and if he has to die, he will die here!”

“You really don’t understand, do you? They will send him to Germany, and maybe God knows where! Now that they have annexed Denmark, they won’t stop there! They will go on until they reach France and maybe further away! Do you really want our own son to become one of them? A merciless and heartless soldier who kills innocent people for an absurd cause?!

“What are you talking about?”

“Stop! Just stop, Inge! There’s nothing you can say that will make me change my mind. He’s my son and he will go to England whether you like it or not!”

His father was so angry that even his wife, usually the bossy one, was afraid and didn’t dare say anything more. She was definitely not used to seeing her husband act that way.

“He will leave the house tonight. I know some people who can help. There are Danes who are going to England to escape the Nazi invasion. Those who will fight to free our country.” He was much calmer as he said that, but his tone was still extremely stern and grave. “Our army is not powerful enough to stand against them alone. Our ancestors were a race of warriors, we have that heritage. Better now, to flee and live to fight another day.”

Karl closed his door, leaning against it with an unreadable look on his face.

This was definitely all too sudden.

***

Once the sun had set, Karl’s father accompanied him to the boat which he was to go aboard for the voyage to England. The sea looked even more beautiful after the sunset. It wasn’t completely dark yet, and the sky offered a wonderful show of pastel colors which reflected on the water.

The boat was a reasonable size. Not too big or too small, it could carry at least a dozen people. The place it was moored couldn’t be considered as a harbour; it was more a sort of inlet.

When they arrived, a man was there waiting for them. Karl’s father approached him and shook hands, they smiled at each other. He seemed to be well acquainted with him.

Karl stood apart from them, but was still able to hear them talk.

“Thank you again for taking my son with you.”

The man nodded.

“No problem. But… if I may ask, why aren’t you and your wife leaving with him?”

“Simply because we can’t. We can’t abandon our house and small piece of land, even if that’s not much. It’s all we possess… But don’t worry, Karl is an intelligent young man, he will manage on his own. He doesn’t need us anymore. I have faith in him,” he said. He glanced at his son, a hint of pride in his voice.

The other man nodded again.

“Alright. Then you should bid farewell so we can leave.”

Aleksander nodded. The boatman turned away to get ready for the departure. He didn’t want to leave too late.

Aleksander approached his son.

He stared into his son’s eyes intently before taking a hold of his shoulders. Karl was quite tall for a boy his age, practically six feet, but his father was still taller than him. The men in his family were all tall, at least on his father’s side. He had a grave look plastered on his face which made Karl worried.

“Listen, Karl, I know my decision may look a bit brutal to you, but I swear I’m doing this for your own good. Don’t think we’re getting rid of you or anything like that; because that’s not true at all. No matter whatever ordeal you will have to face, I know you will overcome all of them with brio; because you are our son. My son. And don’t worry, we’ll see each other again. I just don’t know how long it will take until you can come back home. Never forget that you have Danish blood flowing through your veins, so don’t fear, resist and fight back if you have to.”

Karl remained silent, too upset to say anything. Aleksander let go of his son’s shoulders to hug him tightly. Karl hadn’t expected him to do such a thing. He didn’t hug his father back right away.

“I love you, my son,” His father whispered almost desperately, now on the brink of tears.

Soon enough, Karl could feel tears starting to well up in his eyes as well. He bit his lower lip hard so he could hold them back.

Boys didn’t cry, especially those with Danish blood, descendants of the Viking people, warriors.

His father was unable to hold his tears back. Karl let go without realising it, a tear rolled down his freckled cheek, then another, and another. They wouldn’t stop falling.

And now he was sobbing. He hugged his father back just as tightly, ready not to let go. Deep down, he didn’t want to leave his family. Especially not his father. Not like this.

“Remember: always stay strong and never forget that we love you,” his father whispered in between sobs, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible.

Karl nodded weakly. He knew he had no other choice. He couldn’t stay. He couldn’t disobey his father.

He had trouble swallowing his own saliva, and he might have thrown up, if his father hadn’t been there to comfort him. He closed his eyes, letting out a shaky breath.

“I love you too…” he whispered back feebly.

It was heart-wrenching for his father to see his son so sad and upset. It made him want to cry even more, but he had to set a good example for his son.

Karl tried to blink his tears away as his father pulled away to wipe his own tears with his forearm. They were blurring his vision by now.

His father took a hold of his shoulders once again.

“You’ll be okay, son,” he whispered, trying to sound confident. “Now, it’s time for you to go.”

Karl wiped his face with his hand. He nodded at his father’s words, not knowing what to say.

The boatman was observing them from the main deck, leaning on the railing as he smoked a cigarette.

Aleksander gave his son a rueful smile.

“See you,” he said, hope echoing through those two words.

Karl nodded.

“See you,” he replied, holding in his emotions.

He stood still for a few instants as if he didn’t know what to do now. A small strained smile suddenly made its way onto his face. He turned away to go aboard the boat, his linen pack on his back. Once on the main deck, he glanced one last time at his father who hadn’t moved from his spot.

Soon enough, they left the coast and sailed away.

Aleksander watched the boat in sheer silence. The boat that was taking his son away from him; the only sound, the soft breeze whistling in his ears.

He felt a single tear rolling down his cheek.

It was a new life that awaited his seventeen year old son.

He felt a single tear rolling down his cheek.

It was a new life that awaited his seventeen year old son.