Gold Run: The Rescue of Norway’s Gold Bullion from the Nazis, 1940

by Pearson, Robert

  At 00:15 the first motor minesweeping flotilla came up on the cruiser from astern, and towards 01:00 two boats (R18 and R19?) drew alongside the main after turrets port and starboard. 150 men of 5 company, 307th Infantry Regiment, with full equipment, were shipped out to the R-boats within 25 minutes. Once all ships had discharged according to plan, the voyage up-fjord continued.

  At 03:00 Albatros reported having rammed and sunk a Norwegian patrol vessel and rescued her crew. At 03:30 the assault group for Horten naval base was detached.

  It is worth pointing out that Heymann neglects to state in his otherwise comprehensive report how this patrol vessel was dealt with. Heymann continues:

  As most coastal lights had now been doused Konteradmiral Kummetz announced his intention to pass through the Drøbak Narrows at first light. The ships therefore reduced speed to 7 knots and increased to 12 knots shortly before Drøbak. At about 04:40 (German time), at the approach to the Narrows, Blücher was illuminated by the searchlight from a patrol vessel. Soon afterwards, a small Norwegian patrol vessel (possibly a floating crane) took station to starboard ahead of Blücher for a short while. The entrance to the Narrows was flooded with light from searchlights situated on either side of the fjord. It was about 05:18. A searchlight raked the ship from stem to stern and back. We were dazzled by it. Our orders were to respond to light with light; we were only to open fire if the Norwegians began to shoot in earnest. The events recorded here happened so quickly within a very short time frame that no station was able to give an exact account of the sequence.

  Passing through this narrowest part of the Oslo fjord, the activity of the searchlights created a very tense atmosphere aboard the cruiser, made worse by a mistiness through which no batteries or other details could be distinguished. The tension was dispelled suddenly at 05:19 when the Oscarsborg battery, about 500–600 metres away on the port bow, fired a 28cm shell, which passed above the fully staffed bridge and struck the main flak fire control position. The No 2 Gunnery Officer, Kapitänleutant Pochharnmer, was killed, together with several ratings. Flak Medium Weapons Officer Oberleutnant zur See Schiirdt was seriously wounded, but no injuries were reported from the foretop. On the bridge we felt a powerful air pressure and splinters were flying about. The commander gave permission at once to open fire and ordered the engines to maximum speed.

  The heavy guns did not fire because no military target could be identified. Neither the foretop, the forward fire control, the night control centre, nor the after fire control had located the position from where the shell had been fired; nevertheless, both heavy and light flak opened up a lively fire following the first shell hit. Some houses, the shoreline and a Norwegian patrol vessel which was spraying our upper deck with machine gun fire were raked by our flak. Then one or two 28cm shells hit the aircraft hangar, which burst into flames. The aircraft on the catapult with 40 litres of fuel in the tank and the second aircraft housed in the hangar caught fire at once. Port 111 10.5cm gun was put out of action as a result of this hit. At the same time the Drøbak 15cm battery on the starboard beam fired about 25 rounds from a range of 400–600m, and at least twenty of these shells hit, mainly amidships on the port side between compartments IV and IX. Although the battery was to starboard, it was in a high position and could look down into the ship. Flak control B and Port 1 10.5cm guns were rendered unserviceable.

  One of the first three hits put the rudder and engine telegraph out. The rudder lay slightly to port and the ship had a starboard tendency. Steering was attempted by rudder telegraph in Compartment 1, but because all message relay systems were unserviceable, engine commands were passed to the command centre by voice tube. The ship was very close to Kaholmen, and in order to move her away from the island the commander stopped the starboard shaft and ordered maximum speed astern. At that moment two heavy reverberations were felt through the ship, which led me to believe that we had run into a minefield marked on our charts. We discovered much later that we had been hit by two torpedoes fired from a land-based battery built into a rock on Kaholmen Island. After about three or four minutes the enemy guns fell silent as Blücher passed out of their field of fire. The speed of the ship had only increased to 15 knots. The commander ordered “cease fire” but the flak batteries did not conform because the order was not received owing to the destruction of the main flak fire control and most command relay systems.

  Despite all the hits, we did not have the impression that the ship would not survive. The list was only 8–12 degrees. She was making a little way through the main channel after the commander corrected the effects of the rudder failure by the use of the other propellers. Shortly, the Chief Engineer reported that the centre turbine was no longer in use. The ship was now barely under way. Next the engine room reported that the other two plants had been closed down and that the ship was unmanoeuvrable. The Chief Engineer added later that he thought he could have the other turbines in service again in about an hour. In order to stop the ship drifting ashore under the effect of wind and current, the commander decided to anchor while awaiting repairs. A short while later communications with the engine room was lost. The forepeak anchor could not be freed owing to the list, the starboard anchor finding the bottom at 60m with 175m of chain run out. Without engine power there was no prospect of arriving at the arranged disembarkation point for the army contingent, and any idea of getting the ship’s landing party ashore to capture Fornebu airfield had been abandoned since saving the ship took priority.

  The serious damage in the aircraft hangar combined with the smaller calibre shell hits in the area of compartments IV to IX allowed the fire to take hold and develop into a roaring conflagration since damage control had not been able to take early measures to combat the spread.

  When I informed the commander that the No 1 Damage Control Officer in the command centre had reported that he did not have an overall picture of the flooding and fires in the ship, the commander ordered me to make a survey of the situation on deck. Below the Port 1 10.5cm gun the ship’s side was torn open over a large area and folded back. Thick smoke and fierce flames were coming out of the opening. Where the torpedo workroom had been there was now a large hole in the deck. In the vicinity of the aircraft hangar and inside it a conflagration was raging through several decks. In the area of the starboard forward torpedo tube set rifle cartridges were detonating continuously. Great clouds of smoke and steam were rising from the funnel and amidships. Everywhere I went I found pump-master groups below decks and gun crews above decks engaged on fire-fighting duties. Ammunition threatened by the fire was thrown overboard; in some locations endangered ready ammunition was passed down into the magazines.

  According to the battle regulations manual, and corresponding to the rules laid down on other ships, lines for fire-fighting purposes were not to be laid via the armour deck. This proved disastrous. When water pressure was requested later, it was found that sections of the lines had been ripped to shreds as a result of the hits and that at many stations where the under deck pumps or auxiliary machinery had been damaged no water could be supplied. For similar reasons the foam extinguishers could not be used. When men managed to connect up new lengths of hose, at first a little water could come through, then gradually the flow would become weaker and finally cease. In some places Minimax fire extinguishers were employed, but these proved of little or no use pitted against fires of the magnitude we were facing. In further inspections by the fire teams it was found that in some rooms, in preparation for the land fighting, Army personnel had been priming hand grenades when the fire arrived and caused the weapons to explode. In the battery deck many soldiers met their deaths engaged on this work.

  In my inspection of the ship what I found most depressing was the fire teams were making inroads into the fire even though no possibility existed that it could be brought under control from the ship itself. Wherever I went and gave instructions, I found the crew working calmly and purposefully, but with insufficient equipment for the job.

  Aft
er hearing Heymann’s report Kummetz ordered all gunnery teams to focus on fire-fighting duties, he also attempted to order – via shortwave radio and searchlight – the torpedo boat Möwe alongside to help with fire-fighting, but this was to no avail as the crew on the Möwe failed to respond to the desperate messages. A fresh wind was assisting the fires and blowing the smoke forward choking all those in its thick, poisonous path. To compound matters further the currents were now controlling the Blücher – with her one operational anchor insufficient in holding her on station, she was now out of control. Kummetz ordered the starboard torpedoes be fired off as a precaution against premature explosions and these detonated themselves harmlessly against rocks in the fjord. The pistol charges from the port torpedoes were removed.

  Up to this point, and though the list had increased to 18 degrees, neither the commander nor I, nor probably any of the senior officers, had the impression that the ship could not be saved. My opinion changed when at about 06:30 as I was making my way from the starboard forward torpedo tube set, where I had had the Army ammunition jettisoned, to the bridge behind me the 0.5cm VII.8.2 magazine exploded with a great column of smoke which reached as high as the masthead. The magazines had not been fully flooded because of the lack of pressure in the seawater fire-fighting lines. There was a perceptible jolt felt throughout the ship and the list increased appreciably.

  Measures were set in hand to disembark the crew and remaining soldiers. Korvettenkapitän Zöpfel succeeded in getting the starboard cutter afloat. Kapitänleutant Mihatsch received orders from me to take command of the cutter, which was to be reserved for the seriously wounded and two sick berth officers. The portside cutter had been badly damaged and was not worth lowering away. Korvettenkapitän Cyzan, whom I had stationed on the quarterdeck after the ship anchored, got two dinghies afloat and released the motor pinnance and motor yawl from their cradles, but the latter could not be lowered because the cranes were unserviceable. The commander gave the orders “all hands on deck” and “don lifejackets”. However, most of the Kapok lifejackets strapped to the guardrail were burnt.

  The distance from the stern to the island of Askerholmen was less (about 300m) than that from the foredeck to the mainland (about 400–500m). The attempt to slip the anchor chain, so as to allow the ship to drift ashore or go aground and thus avoid deaths caused by swimming in the icy water, failed.

  The conflagration had divided the ship into two parts at amidships and it was no longer possible for one part to communicate with the other. On the foredeck and afterdeck all objects which could possibly be adapted for use as lifebuoys were laid out ready, Officers, NCOs and men all participated energetically in this work. In the stern Korvettenkapitän Cyzan and later the Chief Engineer had command. When the angle of heel reached 45 degrees, Korvettenkapitän Cyzan gave the order to abandon ship aft. I had the crew in the forward part of the ship and the remaining Army personnel assemble on the foredeck for a short address by the commander. Then the commander called for three cheers for the cruiser Blücher. Following this I called for three cheers for the commander and Konteradmiral Kummetz. The list increased drastically and the port guardrail was touching the water. Fuel oil was seeping into the sea amidships, but was fortunately not on fire. Kapitän zur See Woldag gave the orders to abandon ship at about 07:00. The behaviour of all was exemplary. Despite the great angle of heel all men remained calm and disciplined then and while abandoning. Many Blücher crew members made the great sacrifice of giving their lifejackets to Army personnel who could not swim. With the exception of the wounded, crew and soldiers had to swim ashore. Some succumbed to the intense cold of the water. Some suffered injury because of the hot oil. The cutter, which had orders to land its’ wounded and then return to help those in the water, struck a rock and was holed. Konteradmiral Kummetz, Kapitän zur See Woldag, the Navigation Officer, the Senior Gunnery Officer and I, all without life-jackets, went into the sea over the forepeak as the ship settled. I was in the sea about 200m away when I watched Blücher capsize at 07:32, her battle ensigns flying at the head of the mainmast and at the foretop near the admiral’s pennant. She had a list of 50 degrees for a while, which then increased to 100 degrees and then to 110 degrees, so that it was possible to see the entire length of the burning upper deck. Then she raised her stern and sank by the bow.

  Blücher ablaze and sinking. Photo credit: Collection of The Norwegian Naval Museum

  Heymann’s account of Blücher is fascinating and thought provoking, although he neglected to mention two of the most important passengers that were to feature so prominently in the invasion: the commanding designate admiral for Norway, Herman Boehm (4/1940–1/1943) and Generalmajor Erwin Engelbrecht (163rd Infantry Division). The two officers, unharmed, eventually scrambled ashore safely and began to reorganise their otherwise stalled invasion plans in earnest. The wounded men and survivors landed at two sites on the main land – Digerud and Hallangen, just north of Drøbak and also on the island of Askholmen. Close to 750 men grouped at Hallagen where they were placed under the command of Engelbrecht, who was keen to move out as soon as possible. A reconnaissance of the surrounding area was taken and then the order to move out along the shore was given. However, many of the survivors were wet and without suitable clothing or shoes. It was very cold and snow was still on the ground: movement was very difficult, which was further compounded by the wounded that needed shelter and immediate care.

  The Germans located some huts and ensconced their wounded in them, but the huts were then later surrounded by a group of Norwegian soldiers led by Kaptein Aksel Thulow Petersson, with 7 officers and 62 men of the 4th Guards Company. The Germans were quickly rounded up and disarmed, although they only possessed a few pistols. There was no resistance from the Germans. They were then marched to the Garder family’s farm at Søndre Hallangen, arriving around 11:00 where as many as possible were settled in the farmhouse, although not everyone could be catered for. Improvised shelters were constructed outside for the unlucky ones and turns were taken to warm up in the farmhouse. Only the wounded were spared this inconvenience.

  That night the survivors had their first and only meal of potato and milk, provided by the farmer. It was noted by the Germans that their captors acted correct, polite, and were even friendly. At approximately 18:30 that evening, Kaptein Petersson received further orders to withdraw and to leave the Germans to fend for themselves; the fortunes of war had changed. The Norwegian soldiers duly obeyed their orders and moved off without fuss. Later that evening, Engelbrecht, Kummetz and their chosen staff left for Oslo in a requisitioned bus arriving in Oslo around midnight…it had not been a good day for ‘gruppe V’ and one can only imagine their disappointment upon finding out that the consummate prize of a Norwegian Government, the Royal family and nearly 50 tons of gold had already fled.

  Whilst Kummetz, Engelbrecht and their men were battling for their very survival the following invading armada were confused as to what had happened to the Blücher, the general opinion being she had hit a mine. At once the invaders halted their approach to reassess their plans. Kapitän Thiele, as the senior officer still actively engaged in the invasion, took command, but his ship had also received hits from shore based defences and he quickly decided not to pass the Blücher, but turned the squadron south towards Horten, Son and Tronvik; the orders of Admiral Raeder now seeming very hollow.

  With daylight giving the position of Oscarsborg away to the Luftwaffe efforts were made by the Germans to silence the fort and Stukas from gruppe 1/StG1 bombed the fort relentlessly. Fortuitously, little damage was sustained and there were no losses of Norwegian personnel. The Lűtzow returned to the narrows at 14:17 and commenced shelling Oscarsborg Fort. Kapitän Thiele, still unwilling to risk his ship through the narrows, lowered a small boat and under the cover of a white flag made its way towards the fort. Realising that their cause was now over, Eriksen responded by sending a Norwegian boat to meet the Germans and surrender terms were negotiated, written and signed. Interesti
ngly, the Norwegians at Oscarsborg were permitted to keep their flag flying next to the German flag, perhaps in recognition of such gallant defending against such a superior force.

  The sinking of the Blücher had bought valuable time and now, thanks to the actions of Colonel Eriksen and his men, the flight from Oslo of the Royal Family, Government, officials and gold bullion began in earnest.

  2

  The Flight & Fight Begins

  April 9th

  On that fateful night of April 8/9th in Oslo, the air-raid sirens wailed and the streetlights went out. It had just turned midnight and the Norwegian Foreign Secretary, Halvdan Koht, had earlier taken supper with a friend, but was on his way home when the sirens first sounded. The wails of the siren only compounded what had been a difficult day for him. The British had sown mines off the Norwegian coast and Koht had spent the best part of the day preparing a protest to the British Government. Koht had been aware that the press was full of strange reports of Germans in uniform coming ashore after a transport ship had been sunk by a British submarine and that there had been a significant loss of life.30 Also, there were reports to the Norwegian Foreign Office of German warships heading towards Narvik coupled with a telegram from the British Admiralty stating that the Royal Navy had sighted German warships and a transport ship off the Norwegian coast. The reports were duly passed on. Understandably, it was very late by the time Koht had retired exhausted from his duties.

  Initially, Koht thought the sirens soundings were just a test, but as the sirens continued their ominous wailing he considered that something was seriously amiss. Managing to find a public telephone he contacted the Foreign Office who immediately informed him that warships had entered the Oslofjord. The office also informed Koht that the Prime Minister, Johan Nygaardsvold had called a Cabinet meeting for 01:30. Koht at once set about trying to find a taxi, but was thwarted, probably due to the air-raid alarm. Undeterred he set out on foot stumbling his way through the darkened city arriving at the Foreign Office just after 01:00. Koht said:31