James Benn - Billy Boyle

“Move, you idiot!” I could hear Birkeland yelling.

“Billy, Billy! Are you all right?” I could hear Kaz, too, but couldn’t see him. I touched my eyes, hoping to find they were still there. Intact. They were. I wiped away blood and said a little prayer of thanks that I could see.

“What happened?” No one answered, no one seemed to know. I recognized Jens Iversen as he pushed away the men gathering around me. He took my head in his hands and turned it, checking my eyes and neck.

“You’ve got splinters in your face. Forehead and left side, mostly. It doesn’t look too bad, actually, just a lot of bleeding.” That sounded bad enough to me. He took a handkerchief and started cleaning away the blood around my eyes.

“Look at this.” Birkeland stood by the tree trunk where I had been positioned next to him. There was a ragged bullet hole near the top, and wood splinters were protruding from the gouge it had left.

“A live round,” said Jens, stunned. “Someone must’ve loaded a live round accidentally. Another inch higher and you would have been a dead man.” I tended to think that another inch lower and I wouldn’t be bleeding like a stuck pig, but hell, I didn’t sneeze at being alive.

They half carried me off to a first-aid tent where Jens took over and pulled out several large splinters with a tweezers. “Nothing a first-year medical student can’t handle,” he said. “I’m glad to have the practice.” He poured on some disinfectant that hurt worse than the splinters, then cleaned the remaining blood off my face.

“You’re very lucky, you know.” Anders stood by the half-open tent flap, eyeing my wounds. “Lucky to still have your eyesight.”

“If I was really lucky, Major, this wouldn’t have happened at all.”

Anders gave a rueful laugh as the tent flap was flung open and Rolf joined the crowd, full of apologies. He stood in front of me, wringing his hands like an abject schoolboy. It was odd, seeing this large, powerful man, his head scraping the top of the tent, almost cringing.

“ Jeg er slik trist, gjorde hvordan dette skjer?” Rolf said, looking back and forth between Jens and me.

“We don’t know how it happened, Rolf. Slow down and speak English,” Jens said as he pulled another splinter out of my forehead.

“Lieutenant Boyle, I don’t know how this could’ve happened! All of our weapons were checked and then loaded with blank rounds. I am trist

… very sorry. I can only think a rifle had a round in the chamber that was unaccountably missed.”

“Unaccountably,” I agreed. “Don’t worry about it. I won’t be playing any more war games today.”

“We are all sorry,” said Jens. “It would have been so ungracious to shoot one of our own Allies!” They all laughed. It hurt when I did. A joke is supposed to relieve the tension, but when I got up to leave and brushed past Anders, he looked grim. I wondered why. I wondered why everyone else had been full of apologies and concerns, and he had sounded like he was issuing a warning. Or a threat. I didn’t know anything except my head really hurt, and I wished it was only a hangover.

An hour later I was lying on my bed and Daphne was dabbing my cuts with a warm washcloth, making cooing sounds and telling me everything was going to be all right. That made almost getting a bullet in the forehead worthwhile. Kaz paced back and forth in my small room nerved up from the exercise and the shooting, while Major Harding leaned against the wall and tried to look concerned. What a picture.

“We’re due at the conference in a few minutes,” he stated, glancing at his watch. “Why don’t you stay here and rest up.” I tried to get up on one elbow.

“But, Major, I want to…” The room started spinning and my head found the pillow, fast. I spoke looking up at the ceiling. “We need to observe everyone who was at the exercise this morning.”

“Why? Are you saying this was no accident?” Harding said in disbelief.

“Think about it… sir. Let’s say there was one live round loaded accidentally. It could have been fired off into the air or at any one of those Home Guards or Norwegians running around out there. But it wasn’t. It ended up a few inches from my head. What are the chances of that?”

“It had to end up somewhere, Boyle,” Harding answered. “What makes you think you’re so special?”

“Because we’re here, looking for a spy.” I lowered my voice, feeling like an actor in a bad melodrama. “And I’ve been asking around about the gold. Either a thief or a traitor or both tried to kill me today.”

“And failed,” Kaz spoke up, “which means we should not leave Billy alone.”

“Hold on,” Harding said firmly. “We are about to announce that we are going to invade Norway. I need all of you there. Boyle, keep your . 45 handy if you’re worried and lock your door. We’ll check in on you when it’s over. Let’s go.”

I had Kaz dig out my piece and I put it under the blanket.

“Be careful, Billy.” Daphne smiled down at me. “I want you to dance at my wedding.” She kissed me on the cheek like a big sister and scooted out of the room after Kaz. Harding looked out the window as if he took the threat to me seriously.

“No way in here except through that door, Boyle. Can you get up and lock it after me?” I swung my legs out of the bed and steadied myself. My head was throbbing but the room wasn’t spinning as much as it had. Harding looked at me impatiently.

“I can make it, Major.”

“OK. Looks like you’ve stirred things up, Boyle. Good work. But try not to get yourself killed.” He turned and left. Not wanting me to die was the nicest possible thing Harding could’ve said. It fit right in with my plans. I locked the door and decided to run a tub and bathe away my troubles. With everyone scurrying off to the conference in the main hall I had the water pressure all to myself. Hot water filled the tub and I had a glorious soak. Another hard day at the war. I relaxed and let the steam rise up around me. Was it just this morning that a bullet had slammed into wood inches from my nose? In the safety of the steamy bathroom it all seemed far away. Maybe this army deal was going to work out after all, as long as the bullets didn’t get any closer. I wondered what it was going to be like for the poor GIs landing on the cold shores of Norway. They’d have more than one stray bullet to worry about, and there wouldn’t be a warm bath afterward. Oh well. Real tough for them, but no reason not to enjoy a good tub.

Hours later a knock on the door woke me from a nap. I threw on a bathrobe and shuffled over, bleary eyed but almost clear headed, my automatic held behind my back.

“Who is it?”

“Room service,” answered the singsong voice. Daphne. I opened the door and could smell the soup before I saw it. I settled into bed and let her arrange the tray around me, my. 45 on the nightstand. Kaz came in with a bottle of wine, and I didn’t even want to sock him. It was all quite cozy.

“Well?” I asked. “How did it go? Were the Norwegians happy?”

“Billy,” Kaz smiled as if he were explaining the obvious to a child, “it is impossible to tell if a Norwegian is happy. If we were talking about Poles, there would be dancing in the streets at the news that our homeland was going to be liberated. We would kiss the cheeks of our allies who promised invasion! Instead, the king solemnly stood and shook Cosgrove’s and Harding’s hands. Moving in its own way, but not very demonstrative.”

“Darling, shaking hands is demonstrative for those from the cold northern climes. Can you imagine Major Cosgrove’s expression if the king had kissed him?” Daphne laughed and covered her mouth like a schoolgirl. Kaz looked at her with a smile on his face and an expression that said, Is there any guy luckier than I in the whole world?