Cold Victory

Nothing prepares you for a prang. Emily remembered Robin telling her that once, and he should know; he’d had plenty. Yet precisely because her record had been perfect until now, the shock was all the greater. Until the engine cut out, she had not fully believed Rick was right about the fuel leak. The Wellington was comparatively young and meticulously maintained. They had refuelled at Wunstorf. She had doubted they were low on fuel, suspecting a problem with the gauge instead. After the starboard engine cut out, she could no longer deny they were in trouble, but she had still been in a state of denial when Rick reported the port fuel tanks were also draining at an alarming rate. Still, she clung to the conviction that there must be another explanation for the readings; they couldn’t be out of fuel.

But they were.

They didn’t have a lot of altitude, either; only a little over 3,000 feet. Jan could not break through the jamming to get any response from BASC, and none of the other aircraft seemed to be taking any notice of their mayday call either. They were on their own, sinking down toward the snowy landscape of the Soviet zone as the weather worsened. Soon, the blowing snow was so thick that it overwhelmed the windscreen wipers. Their landing lights did nothing but highlight the snow, reflecting the light back at them.

Jan spotted what looked like a flat, broad field, and Emily adjusted course to take advantage of the longest stretch. She hoped it wasn’t a lake under the layer of snow because until two days earlier, temperatures had been above freezing during the day. It was unlikely that surface ice on a deep lake would be strong enough to support the weight of a Wellington.

The initial touchdown was surprisingly soft. The wet snow both softened the impact and provided sufficient friction to slow them down. However, the torque from the functioning engine caused them to veer. Emily tried to apply opposite rudder while calling Rick and Jan to shut down the port engine. It was no good. Rick saw the low, stone shed and yelled at her to avoid it, but the aircraft was out of control. It careered into the structure with a terrible crash and the howl of tortured metal. Bricks and stones hammered against the fuselage and broke through the canvas as the engine smashed the structure open. Then with a shudder, the whole airframe came to a halt and the port engine shut itself off.

In the moment of silence that followed, Emily felt intense pain spreading out from her heart. Her brain shouted at her to escape the wreck before a fire ignited, but her body was lamed. Only gradually did she register that Jan was screaming and Anna was hanging over her shoulder, asking if she was all right.

“See to the others,” Emily told Anna. When she went to release her straps, acute pain shot up from her left wrist causing her to gasp. She must have broken it. She would have to get out of her seat without using it. Yet all movement was so painful that she could hardly breathe. Glancing to the right for help, she caught a glimpse of Rick’s crushed face streaming with blood and instantly felt queasy. She closed her eyes to regain her composure.

She must have lost consciousness briefly because the next thing she knew, Anna was between her and Jan, trying to calm Jan down. She registered that Rick was now stretched out on the floor of the cockpit with his head wrapped in bandages. To get out of the aircraft, she would have to stand on her seat and climb out of the cockpit window.

She looked up. It was half-covered with snow already and beyond all was dark. That meant there was no fire. On the other hand, if the snow covered them, no one would be able to find them, and they would freeze to death. The Wellington’s skin consisted only of canvas glued to the geodetic metal frame. Already, bitterly cold drafts of wind whistled through rips torn in the fabric by bricks from the building they’d hit. She had to get out and go for help. But she didn’t have the strength.

Anna had been working by torchlight and now directed her torch at her pilot. “Emily? Are you all right?”

“I think I’m having a heart attack. I have terrible pain all across the front of my chest.”

“More likely the straps have broken your breast bone,” Anna replied with admirable professionalism. “Anything else?”

“My wrist has snapped.” Emily lifted her left arm a little to draw attention to it. She couldn’t move or feel her fingers which were already swelling.

“I’ll get that splinted,” Anna replied and started to rummage through her first-aid kit.

“We have to get help,” Emily told her. “We’ll freeze to death in here if they don’t find us soon.”

“I’ll go as soon as I’ve finished stabilizing your wrist.”

“No. You have to stay with Jan and Rick. I’m completely useless when it comes to first aid. Just do what you can to splint and ease the pain in my wrist and chest, then help me out of the cockpit window. Once I’ve gone, bring every blanket from the sick bay up to the cockpit and wrap yourself up.”

Anna nodded and set to work splinting Emily’s wrist. The pain was terrible, and Emily almost passed out in the process. Anna stopped to give her a small dose of morphine. When Anna finished, Emily sat breathing heavily for a minute or two, collecting her strength and courage. Then she announced, “I want you to push the cockpit window open and help me get out.”

That was easier said than done. Anna got the window open easily enough, and Emily managed to stand on her seat by sheer willpower. It was a matter of ignoring the pain, she found. Yet her efforts left her feeling faint and sick. Eventually, moving very slowly and holding her torso as rigidly as possible, she clambered out onto the wing. This was already half covered in snow and slippery. She lost her footing, fell and slid down the slope of the wing to land in a heap in the snow. In the process, she lost consciousness. When she came to, Anna was calling down to her in an almost hysterical voice.

Emily pulled herself together enough to right herself and sit on the edge of the wing while she struggled to regain her breath and still her panic. The pain was so pervasive that she was sick in the snow. After that, she washed her mouth with snow, then took deep breaths and waited for the pain to subside or for the morphine to start working better. Maybe the dose had been too small? No, she couldn’t risk falling asleep.

Eventually, she forced herself to her feet and looked around to get her bearings. She couldn’t face tramping into the blizzard, so she turned her back to it and let it push her. As she walked, she tried to remember the map, but she rarely paid attention to what was outside the corridor. Tonight, they had been especially preoccupied with the fuel problem. But this was Germany, she reminded herself, a densely populated country in the heart of Europe. There had to be a village or a farmhouse nearby.

She stopped again, this time looking for some sign of settlement. It was hard to see far in the darkness and the blizzard, but she could decipher a line of trees off to her left, possibly a forest. To her right, on the other hand, the land fell away somewhat and seemed less hostile. She decided to veer more in that direction.

Aware of the danger of walking in circles, she looked for some landmark to help her hold her course. If only it had been a clear night, she could have navigated by the stars, but the cloud cover blotted them out. The only distinctive feature she could find was a clump of trees that rose up higher than the rest and she decided to make for them.

Walking was difficult. Although she could ease the pain in her wrist by holding it against her stomach, the pain in her chest was constant and nearly overpowering. She had to stop frequently just to gather her strength and fight back the nausea. The morphine didn’t seem to be working, but how could she know how much worse the pain would have been without it?

As she struggled forward, the snow gradually became finer and the flakes drier. Emily started to believe she was making progress. As the clump of trees grew closer, she began to discern a light at the base of them. Then suddenly a patch of tall, dense reeds blocked her way. After staring at them bewildered, she realised that they marked the edge of a snow-covered lake. This expanse of ice lay between her and that clump of trees with the light. Should she try to cross it? It looked as though it was frozen hard — or was there a darker patch in the centre, suggesting flowing water? She couldn’t risk falling through the ice. If she died, no one would know about the others, and they would die too.

She turned to follow the reeds marking the edge of the lake, hoping that she could skirt around it and resume her course towards the yellow light glowing under the clump of trees. However, the reeds made walking almost impossible because they were surrounded by ice. Emily slipped again and again, each fall causing intense pain in her wrist and chest. She had to back away from the reeds, extending her detour. Gradually, her goal moved from ahead of her to beside her and then off her quarter. All the while, her strength was fading, and she started to doubt she would make it. She gritted her teeth, put her head down and slogged on through the snow.

When she couldn’t take another step, she stopped and looked around. The lake was still to her left, and to her right, the trees of another forest were closing in. As far as she could see, there was not a house or a barn or even a shepherd’s hut. How was it possible that in the heart of Germany there was not one single dwelling or living soul?

Emily felt utterly alone, cut off not only from civilisation but from all humanity. For a surreal moment, she wondered if she was already dead. Maybe she was in hell. She seemed to remember hearing that the outer rings of hell were cold and icy rather than hot and fiery.

“Oh, Robin,” she cried out mentally, “how did it come to this? Why?” She had never considered the possibility that she might die before him. Throughout the war, she had mentally prepared herself for losing him. She had dreaded and hated the thought of his death yet acknowledged that it was her most likely fate. Not once had she imagined she might be killed, leaving him behind. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

But then she remembered Anna, Jan and Rick. She couldn’t abandon them! She was responsible for them. She had to keep going, keep trying. She forced herself to resume her journey, doggedly, stubbornly. She focused on her footing, just following the edge of the lake.