Now it was as if he was preparing to sacrifice his own son. Gunnar was just eighteen, eager to be involved in resistance activities beyond running the occasional errand, and he was about to get his chance. The message from London was clear: on this particular night they were to post lookouts throughout the area and see if there were any Germans around when an RAF plane flew over. There was a small but dense wood spread over a hillside north-east of the village, and Aksel felt this offered the best view of the area. But because of the curfew and the wood’s distance from the village, placing lookouts there would be dangerous.

The plan was for Gunnar and Inger, a girl the same age as him, to go to the wood this afternoon and stay there until morning. They were to hide and watch out for German patrols. If caught, they were to pretend to be lovers who’d gone to the woods to find some privacy.

‘You and, erm, Inger…’ Aksel was finding the conversation with Gunnar awkward. ‘Have you ever, um…’

‘Have we ever what, Father?’

‘Come on, Gunnar – have you ever been boyfriend and girlfriend? You know what I mean.’

‘Not as such,’ replied Gunnar, smiling and enjoying his father’s obvious discomfort. ‘But I’m prepared to try if it helps defeat the Nazis!’

Gunnar and Inger spent much of the evening enthusiastically ensuring that their efforts to defeat the Nazis were as authentic as possible. They’d created a hideaway in the undergrowth that gave them a good view of the fields beyond the hillside. Their enjoyment came to a sudden halt at a most inconvenient time, Inger suddenly clamping her hand across Gunnar’s mouth as he leaned into her again. She raised her head and whispered into his ear.

‘Can you hear?’

‘No – what?’

‘Footsteps, behind us.’

The footsteps could not have been more than ten yards away, pausing before being joined by more. Very carefully, Gunnar and Inger disentangled themselves from each other and edged further into the undergrowth, pulling more branches over them.

‘Kannst du etwas hören?’

It was a German voice, young and nervous, asking, ‘Can you hear something?’

Gunnar and Inger lay as still as possible, convinced that their breathing, heavy from their exertions, was echoing around the hillside and across the fields beyond it. A series of distinct sounds rose behind them: branches snapping as they were stepped on; the strike of matches as cigarettes were lit; the metallic clicks as the catches on sub-machine guns were released.

‘Nur Tiere, denke ich.’ ‘Just animals, I think.’