clues in the briefing documents, but there wasn’t much to go on. Each team had a map showing an area of ten miles square and listing three target sites. Their landing zone would be somewhere within this area, but the map gave no indication as to where. There were also photographs of the target buildings and diagrams showing the appearance of a twenty-millimetre anti-aircraft cannon, along with instructions on disassembly.
‘I wonder what the other teams have got on their maps,’ Rosie yelled, though it barely registered over the aircraft noise and only Marc and PT who sat on either side of her heard.
‘If our maps are worse than theirs, you mean?’ Marc said. ‘Less detailed, or harder targets, maybe.’
‘Walker messed up all our equipment,’ Joel noted. ‘So it’s safe to assume that he’s messed with our information too.’
Marc smiled. ‘Walker hates Henderson so much our surrender letters probably tell our captors to shoot us as enemy spies.’
Rosie took a deep breath and opened her mouth into a wide yawn. The bomber was unpressurised and air was thin at this altitude. The previous day had been tough and they were back in action after less than four hours’ sleep.
Sadness hung in the air as the Frogs and Birds lined up to make their jumps. There was a slight chance the groups would meet during the exercise, but they were competing against the clock not each other and they’d most likely never see each other again.
As the last of the Norwegian women stepped over Rosie’s legs to hook up, a hairclip dropped into Rosie’s lap. Rosie reached up to pat the woman on the back and return it, but as she turned it in her hand she saw a tube made from a cigarette paper wedged between the teeth.
Rosie checked that none of the staff was looking her way before unravelling the paper. It was a tiny hand-drawn map, with the ink showing through both sides of the paper. She made an immediate connection between the three marks on the map and the targets she’d been given with her kit. But off to one side was a fourth place, marked DZ for drop zone. At the bottom was a note in tiny handwriting.
Rosie,
Good snowball fight. I’ll get you back next time! One of my girls has been getting friendly with the Wellington pilots. I hope knowing your DZ saves you time!
Lots of love,
Gerhild
‘Hook up,’ Sergeant Parris shouted, as he opened the door of the aircraft for the second drop. ‘Good luck, girls.’
Rosie had only spoken to Gerhild twice and hadn’t known her name until she saw the letter. The kids could easily have wasted an hour trying to find out where they’d landed, especially at night, in the middle of a blackout and with every signpost and street name taken down.
‘What’s it say?’ Luc asked, barging forwards as Parris ordered the first of the Norwegians to jump.
‘Could be a trick,’ Marc noted. ‘We hardly know her. What if Walker gave her the note with a false DZ on it to try and slow us down?’
The Norwegian women had always seemed nice, but Rosie realised it was possible. ‘We’ll have to treat it with suspicion,’ she agreed. ‘But if it’s right, it’s a massive help.’
Luc had a big smile on his face. ‘It’s hilarious if it is right. You and PT robbed their compasses and chocolate and they still helped us.’
Luc had no scruples, but Rosie felt horrible about it.
‘It’s Walker’s fault we had to plunder the Norwegians’ stuff, not ours,’ PT said.
Once the four Norwegians had dropped, Parris pulled up the door and propeller noise increased as the bomber went into a climb. Marc looked along the fuselage at the four Poles sitting up by the cockpit.
‘About ten minutes,’ Parris told the kids, as he broke into a rare smile. ‘You feeling confident?’
The five kids nodded.
‘Wasn’t sure about training you lot,’ Parris said. ‘But you learn fast. I don’t suppose I’ll ever see any of you again, so good luck with the exercise and whatever else life sends your way.’
PT smiled and spoke for the group. ‘Thank you, sir.’
Parris glanced at his watch. ‘Eight and a half minutes,’ he said, reverting to his usual bark. ‘Start kitting up.’
The four Poles would be dropping two minutes after the kids. As Parris walked down the fuselage to warn them, the kids started strapping on helmets and parachutes. Once they were buckled up they followed procedure and checked each other’s kit.
Marc inspected Luc’s harness and