Ken Follett - Hornet Flight

Later that day-a Tuesday-the older boys had been detailed to fill sandbags and carry them to the church to cover the priceless ancient carvings and sarcophagi. Behind the altar was the tomb of the school’s founder, his stone likeness lying in state, dressed in medieval armor with an eye-catchingly large codpiece. Harald had caused great amusement by mounting a sandbag end-up on the protrusion. Heis had not appreciated the joke, and Harald’s punishment had been to spend the afternoon moving paintings to the crypt for safety.

All the precautions had been unnecessary. The school was in a village outside Copenhagen, and it was a year before they saw any Germans. There had never been any bombing or even gunfire.

Denmark had surrendered within twenty-four hours. “Subsequent events have shown the wisdom of that decision,” said the speaker with irritating smugness, and there was a susurration of dissent as the boys shifted uncomfortably in their seats and muttered comments.

“Our king continues on his throne,” Agger went on. Next to Harald, Mads grunted disgustedly. Harald shared Mads’s annoyance. King Christian X rode out on horseback most days, showing himself to the people on the streets of Copenhagen, but it seemed an empty gesture.

“The German presence has been, on the whole, benign,” the speaker went on. “Denmark has proved that a partial loss of independence, due to the exigencies of war, need not necessarily lead to undue hardship and strife. The lesson, for boys such as yourselves, is that there may be more honor in submission and obedience than in ill-considered rebellion.” He sat down.

Heis clapped politely, and the boys followed suit, though without enthusiasm. If the head had been a shrewder judge of an audience’s mood, he would have ended the session then; but instead he smiled and said, “Well, boys, any questions for our guest?”

Mads was on his feet in an instant. “Sir, Norway was invaded on the same day as Denmark, but the Norwegians fought for two months. Doesn’t that make us cowards?” His tone was scrupulously polite, but the question was challenging, and there was a rumble of agreement from the boys.

“A naive view,” Agger said. His dismissive tone angered Harald.

Heis intervened. “Norway is a land of mountains and fjords, difficult to conquer,” he said, bringing his military expertise to bear. “Denmark is a flat country with a good road system-impossible to defend against a large motorized army.”

Agger added, “To put up a fight would have caused unnecessary bloodshed, and the end result would have been no different.”

Mads said rudely, “Except that we would have been able to walk around with our heads held high, instead of hanging them in shame.” It sounded to Harald like something he might have heard at home from his military relations.

Agger colored. “The better part of valor is discretion, as Shakespeare wrote.”

Mads said, “In fact, sir, that was said by Falstaff, the most famous coward in world literature.” The boys laughed and clapped.

“Now, now, Kirke,” said Heis mildly. “I know you feel strongly about this, but there’s no need for discourtesy.” He looked around the room and pointed to one of the younger boys. “Yes, Borr.”

“Sir, don’t you think Herr Hitler’s philosophy of national pride and racial purity could be beneficial if adopted here in Denmark?” Woldemar Borr was the son of a prominent Danish Nazi.

“Elements of it, perhaps,” Agger said. “But Germany and Denmark are different countries.” That was plain prevarication, Harald thought angrily. Couldn’t the man find the guts to say that racial persecution was wrong?

Heis said plaintively, “Would any boy like to ask Mr. Agger about his everyday work as a member of the Rigsdag, perhaps?”

Tik stood up. Agger’s self-satisfied tone had irritated him, too. “Don’t you feel like a puppet?” he said. “After all, it’s the Germans who really rule us. You’re just pretending.”

“Our nation continues to be governed by our Danish parliament,” Agger replied.

Tik muttered, “Yes, so you get to keep your job.” The boys nearby heard him and laughed.

“The political parties remain-even the Communists,” Agger went on. “We have our own police, and our armed forces.”

“But the minute the Rigsdag does something the Germans disapprove of, it will be closed down, and the police and the military will be disarmed,” Tik argued. “So you’re acting in a farce.”

Heis began to look annoyed. “Remember your manners, please, Duchwitz,” he said peevishly.

“That’s all right, Heis,” said Agger. “I like a lively discussion. If Duchwitz thinks our parliament is useless, he should compare our circumstances with those prevailing in France. Because of our policy of cooperation with the Germans, life is a great deal better, for ordinary Danish people, than it might be.”

Harald had heard enough. He stood up and spoke without waiting for permission from Heis. “And what if the Nazis come for Duchwitz?” he said. “Will you advise friendly cooperation then?”

“And why should they come for Duchwitz?”

“The same reason they came for my uncle in Hamburg-because he’s a Jew.”

Some of the boys looked around with interest. They probably had not realized Tik was Jewish. The Duchwitz family were not religious, and Tik went along to services in the ancient redbrick church just like everyone else.

Agger showed irritation for the first time. “The occupying forces have demonstrated complete tolerance toward Danish Jews.”

“So far,” Harald argued. “But what if they change their minds? Suppose they decide that Tik is just as Jewish as my uncle Joachim? What is your advice to us then? Shall we stand aside while they march in and seize him? Or should we now be organizing a Resistance movement in preparation for that day?”

“Your best plan is to make sure you are never faced with such a decision, by supporting the policy of cooperation with the occupying power.”

The smooth evasiveness of the answer maddened Harald. “But what if that doesn’t work?” he persisted. “Why won’t you answer the question? What do we do when the Nazis come for our friends?”

Heis put in, “You’re asking what’s called a hypothetical question, Olufsen,” he said. “Men in public life prefer not to meet trouble halfway.”

“The question is how far his policy of cooperation will go,” Harald said hotly. “And there won’t be time for debate when they bang on your door in the middle of the night, Heis.”

For a moment, Heis looked ready to reprimand Harald for rudeness, but in the end he answered mildly. “You’ve made an interesting point, and Mr. Agger has answered it quite thoroughly,” he said. “Now, I think we’ve had a good discussion, and it’s time to go back to our lessons. But first, let’s thank our guest for taking the time out of his busy life to come and visit us.” He raised his hands to lead a round of applause.

Harald stopped him. “Make him answer the question!” he shouted. “Should we have a Resistance movement, or will we let the Nazis do anything they like? For God’s sake, what lessons could be more important than this?”

The room went quiet. Arguing with the staff was permitted, within reason, but Harald had crossed the line into defiance.

“I think you’d better leave us,” Heis said. “Off you go, and I’ll see you afterward.”

This made Harald furious. Boiling with frustration, he stood up. The room remained silent as all the boys watched him walk to the door. He knew he should leave quietly, but he could not bring himself to do it. He turned at the door and pointed an accusing finger at Heis. “You won’t be able to tell the Gestapo to leave the damn room!” he said.