The 12th Man

by Astrid Karlsen Scott

  Sheriff Hoel

  Haakon Sørensen’s early morning phone call and the story of the three men and their fishing cutter puzzled Hoel. He wondered why they would offer 5000 kroner for a 30-mile boat ride to Tromsø to pick up a spare part. Though he wasn’t a Nazi, Hoel was terrified of the reprisal the Germans would inflict on him for not doing his job as sheriff. He immediately called the police station in Tromsø.

  Police officers Edwin Wikan and Einar Kjeldsen were on watch that evening between March 30 - 31, 1943. It was early morning when Sheriff Hoel came on the line. He instructed Wikan to call the Gestapo and to let him know the results.

  Edwin Wikan was a police officer who refused to conform to Nazi orders. He tried to sabotage the call from Sheriff Hoel by not sending the message out. He hoped that by doing so, should the men in Toftefjord be patriots, they would have time to get away.

  Edwin Wikan

  Some two hours later Hoel called back, and wanted to know what was happening. Police Officer Wikan took the call and said it had been delayed because of another important case that had come up, but that they soon would be able to call the Gestapo. He was asked to report the incident to the German Security Police at once, and he realized that this time there was no way around it - he had to call police president Fiane and relate what Hoel had reported.

  At that point, Wikan did not know it, but Hoel himself had already called Hagen in the Norwegian State Police and Grau in the Gestapo Security Police.

  Hagen, a friend of Hoel’s, warned him to handle the happenings at Rebbenes Island with care, because German provocateurs might be the instigators. He suggested Hoel take the sheriff’s boat out to Toftefjord for a closer look at the situation. Before leaving, Sheriff Hoel called merchant Nilsen in Mikkelvik and asked him to be on the lookout for further developments.

  Next, Sheriff Hoel called his assistant Valdemar Figenchau, who lived at Vannskammen and asked him to take the boat ride out to Rebbenes Island. No sooner had Hoel hung up the phone than Merchant Nilsen from Mikkelvik called and confirmed that an unknown vessel was docked in Toftefjord. Hoel then rescinded the command that sheriff assistant Figenchau go out to Rebbenes.

  Karl Grau, Jr., a German translator, said the Gestapo would dispatch a boat with about 20 or 30 men aboard and that Hoel himself was to be on board to pilot them.

  Obersturmbandführer Stage was in charge of the operation. He sent the largest and fastest boat available in Tromsø, a high-speed minesweeper from five minesweeper flotillas. Aboard were Adwehr soldiers, sailors and Gestapo folk (SIPO). Grau was also aboard and they picked up Sheriff Hoel en route.

  Police station in Tromso where Edwin Wikan worked

  ANYONE WHO…

  4. PURSUES PROPAGANDA ACTIVITIES FOR AN ENEMY COUNTRY OR OTHERWISE REPRESENTS, OR OBTAINS OR SPREADS INFORMATION OR OTHER THINGS WHICH ARE DETRIMENTAL TO GERMAN INTERESTS, OR

  5. LISTEN TO ANYONE OTHER THAN GERMAN OR GERMAN CONTROLLED OR STATIONARY RADIO TRANSMITTERS, OR…

  ….

  WILL BE PUNISHED BY DEATH….

  ….

  Oslo, October 12, 1942

  Reichskommissar Für die

  besetzten norwegischen

  Gebiete Terboven.

  BATTLE IN TOFTEFJORD

  MARCH 30, 1943: Jan and the crew were anxious for the others to return. The relief on their faces was apparent when, shortly after midnight, the silhouette of the dinghy emerged from the shadows. Eskeland, Kvernhellen and Blindheim told the men aboard Brattholm about the disappointing conversation with the merchant Haakon Sørensen.

  Together they discussed the many variables that could occur because of this twist in their plans. In the end, the decision was made to look up the fishermen recommended by the merchant. Soon after, Eskeland, Kvernhellen and Blindheim pushed off in their little dinghy and set out of the fjord northward toward Grøtøy Island.

  They were glad for the cover of darkness and that only a moderate wind was blowing, though it was piercing. On arrival at Grøtøy, after introducing themselves and explaining their mission, Jernberg Kristiansen and his half-brother, Sedolf Andreassen, warmly welcomed the men. Eskeland did not mention that they had come from the Shetland Islands. Rather, he told them they had brought a fishing vessel up from southern Norway loaded with provisions of various kinds: explosives, weapons, ammunition and food. They were in desperate need of assistance to get the goods hidden ashore.

  Happy to help with the mission, Jernberg and Sedolf immediately offered their assistance. They knew of a safe hiding place on the west side of Toftefjordnes, just under two miles from where Brattholm was docked, and they agreed to come and guide the cutter. The brothers arranged to meet them in Toftefjord the following day at 4 p.m.

  They shook hands; both fishermen were elated to play a small part in helping to free Norway.

  After their all-night excursion, the three men arrived, exhausted, back at the fishing vessel around eight in the morning. The weather was still holding, and they felt satisfied and somewhat encouraged with the help offered them by the half-brothers. All the same, an uneasy feeling tugged at Eskeland. He was not at all sure he could trust the merchant at Bromnes, who had promised to keep silent. They had to be prepared for all eventualities.

  While Eskeland and the others searched for help, Jan examined the ammunition and weapons, making sure all things were in order. Charges with one-minute and seven-minute fuses were prepared. The intent was that the seven-minute fuse would ignite the eight tons of provisions, and the one-minute fuse was to be used in case of a surprise attack should they have to abandon the fishing vessel.

  They placed the lists of people to contact with matches and a gasoline bottle. In case of an emergency, whoever was closest was to pour the gasoline over the papers and set a match to them.

  As time passed, the men felt more at ease, and concluded that if the merchant had reported them, the Germans would have had plenty of time to have come from Tromsø by now. All twelve men were aboard, and they began thinking in terms of relaxing. The men from Grøtøy were expected at 4 p.m. and the Brattholm men had made all necessary preparations to have the provisions brought ashore at Toftefjordnes.

  At noon they heard the monotonous drone of planes in the distance. Since they were far away, no precautions were taken. Now and then they heard a few shots fired at the approach to the fjord. The Brattholm men assumed they were German patrol planes carrying out their assignments. (Later, it was learned the Germans had been patrolling the entrance to the fjord to prevent Brattholm from leaving, should she attempt to do so. The shootings the men heard were warnings to fishing vessels to force them back into the fjord.)

  The saboteurs looked forward to 4 p.m. when they could rid the boat of all evidence and see the crew safely on their way back to the Shetland Islands. The saboteurs were eager to finish their mission. They went below to take a well-earned rest. Sleep came easy to the weary men.

  A short while later their peace was shattered.

  “Germans! The Germans are here!” The shrill sound of the lookout’s cry rang out on the deck; it bounced from bow to stern and penetrated the very guts of the fishing vessel. The men jumped from their berths. All signs of fatigue vanished. Their well-trained minds and bodies responded immediately to the alert. Was this not what they had trained for?

  In the tight quarters below, they crashed into each other as they grabbed for their boots and hand weapons. They scrambled up the steep, narrow ladder, through the hatch, and onto the deck. Jan, on the way up, grabbed a Sten gun and his pistol. He bolted through the hatch onto the deck in time to see the top of the mast of a German warship above the rocky ledges of the islet. The thumping motor became noisier as the ship steadily approached them from behind the rock-bound isle, their protection from discovery. The ship cut off all possibilities of retreat.

  Half of the fishing vessel was hidden by the elevated part of the isle where they had anchored. The distance from the Germans had narrowed to some 400 feet, and when Brattholm be
came fully visible to the warship, the Germans fired. Brattholm’s machine guns were dismantled, but the men instantly saw they could not win this fight taking the warship with frontal attack. Brattholm had to be blown up.

  The deck was in total turmoil as the men tried to avoid the line of fire while carrying out their duties.

  “Men! Abandon ship!” Kvernhellen yelled to the crew. “Leave all codes and compromising papers behind.” The seven-man crew swiftly lowered one of the rowboats and jumped in one by one.

  “Row!”

  “It’s too risky! They’ll kill us!” Priceless moments were lost because the cook felt it too chancy to row away from Brattholm. The men switched back and forth and another of the crew took to the oars. They pushed away from the vessel and rowed rapidly toward the west side of the fjord, warning shots flying over their heads and the soldiers in fast pursuit.

  The saboteurs stayed behind to wrap up their assignments. Eskeland and Blindheim scrambled down into the hold, lit the seven-minute fuse, and placed the radio equipment on top of the charge. Salvesen and Baalsrud poured the gasoline on the name list and lit it. Erik Reichelt held the second rowboat up close against Brattholm on the far side from the Germans, where they could not see him. He was to wait there until the other four had finished their work aboard the boat.

  The warship rapidly neared Brattholm. Eskeland yelled at Jan to shoot at them with whatever he had. Jan aimed at the bridge and opened fire with his Sten gun. His gun was a mere toy against the Germans’ powerful cannons, but it had the effect they hoped for. The warship momentarily stopped, which gave the four men an opportunity to almost complete their duties before it once more continued toward Brattholm.

  The warship’s intense fire persisted as the saboteurs finished their work. Most of the shots whistled above their heads and rammed into the mountain on the other side of the fjord. As soon as their tasks were completed, all four crouched and darted toward the rowboat. They vaulted over the railing and down into the boat Reichelt held waiting. Eskeland misjudged and splashed into the water; the others hauled him in.

  Brattholm was deserted. The sputtering fuse and its small vapor of smoke were the only movements on deck. The men stayed low in the rowboat in Brattholm’s shadow. The few short minutes they sat there and clung to the side of the boat felt like infinity. Across the fjord, the crew who had escaped in the first rowboat had reached the rocky beach on the west side of the fjord, only 500 feet away. Two of them were standing in the boat with their hands in the air; three others were ashore and in the process of giving up. One man, rendered incapacitated, probably shot, was sprawled across a rock a little further in; it looked to be the machinist. Captain Kvernhellen was the only one who had managed to head for cover.

  Eskeland stared intently at his watch until the fuse had been burning five and a half minutes. To the second, the five had to push away from Brattholm. With all their strength, they rowed rapidly, taking advantage of Brattholm’s cover. It was only seconds before they became visible to the Germans a short distance away. Nothing but a little water separated them from the warship.

  The moment they were seen, the Germans fired. At the same time, they lowered two rowboats with four soldiers in each. Both boats were rowed at high speed toward the west side of the fjord. The four Linge-men and Reichelt also rowed hard, heading for the east side of the beach.

  The warship pulled up close to Brattholm. At the same moment, the seven-minute fuse went off. The men heard a muffled sound, and realized, to their horror, that it had failed. Only a small fire was burning. The Germans also had heard the noise, and saw the flames, and knew the danger brewing. In spite of the narrow and shallow strait, the Germans quickly reversed the warship and maneuvered a short distance away from the fishing cutter, all the while continuing the vigorous firing towards the little rowboat on its way to the shore.

  Machine gun bullets whipped up the water around them, and the rowboat’s wooden planks shattered, sending splinters flying through the air. The men heard the bullets slam into the rowboat on one side, boring themselves out the other. Amidst the panic, they shouted frantically to each other “Row on! Keep rowing!”

  Blindheim, in a somewhat subdued, melancholy voice, turned to his friend Jan and said, “Jaja Jan, we were given a few good years together.”

  The boat had received too many hits. As if by a miracle, none of the men were hit. Tree-white splinters protruded all around the gaping holes left by the bullets and the water gushed in. It engulfed their feet and in the moment’s bewilderment, left them paralyzed, unable to move.

  The saboteurs came ashore. The German route is reflected by the broken line.

  The Gestapos discovered Jan in the ravine indicated by the arrow. Jan shot the Gestapo officer at the X.

  EXPLOSION

  MARCH 30, 1943: A thunderous boom filled the fjord. People from neighboring islands stopped their labors and turned toward Rebbenes Island as the roar reached them. The men in the sinking dory were hurled backwards and thrown on top of each other.

  The eight tons of explosives in Brattholm’s hull had ignited. Voluminous masses of water surrounding the cutter were thrust aside, and a huge forty-foot crater formed at the bottom of the fjord. Seconds later, the water plunged into the hole and out gushed a colossal tidal wave that rolled on to the shore. Brattholm’s masts were broken into short stubs, and whirled through the air like matchsticks. Pieces of engine, wheelhouse, lantern glass, metal and hatch covers flew over the five men. Burning oil barrels cut through the air, like torches and with big thuds, crashed into granite boulders far up the mountainside behind them.

  In an instant, Brattholm was extinct. At the time the sea enclosed Brattholm’s debris, a document case fell out of the sky and splashed onto the water’s surface. It bobbed along on the huge waves like a life jacket. Aboard the Schnell boat an officer signaled to some soldiers to lower a rowboat. With shrill screams and frenzied gestures he pointed toward the document case. The rowboat splashed into the waves and moments later, their lucky discovery was brought back to the ship.

  The bullet-ridden dory began sinking beneath the five men. Their only choice was to swim. At the moment Jan delivered himself to the glacial waters, the sock and rubber boot on his right foot got caught in the splintered boat and went down with the dinghy.

  The frozen waters instantly permeated their uniforms and underclothes. The piercing cold jolted their flesh while the ice floes barred them from the shore. In their efforts to thrust floes aside with their bare hands, the ice forced the men backwards away from the shoreline. It was quicker to swim around the ice than it was to pass through it.

  The hundred yards or so to the rocky seaside seemed so far. No one thought of surrendering, but the frigid water sapped their strength. Bullets crashed near them, cracking the ice; a miracle was needed.

  A rowboat with four German soldiers worked its way around to the head of the fjord on the west side; simultaneously they kept a close eye on the five men swimming. The Germans’ plan was to cut them off before they reached the rock-bound shore.

  Baalsrud, Salvesen, Blindheim and Reichelt reached the bank followed by Eskeland a few feet back. All were utterly spent. Jan mustered his strength and crawled up the steep slope by the waterfront. He managed to crouch on a hillock behind a rock some yards higher up. Jan’s right foot was bare, and yet the hardened snow did not appear to be any colder than the water. His uniform, heavy with saltwater, soon become rigid and creaked each time he moved; he was being encased in ice.

  The rock was his only refuge from the dangers around him. He struggled to get in a position where he could look down toward his friends without being discovered by the Germans. All of them still lay exhausted by the water’s edge. Per Blindheim dragged himself toward a rock, but a bullet penetrated the back of his head and he fell backwards halfway into the water. Dead. A sickening feeling engulfed Jan as he watched his good friend killed. Repeatedly he called for his other friends to follow him. Stillness was his only an
swer.

  The warship continued its bombardment. The bullets rammed into the snow and the hillside down by the water. The German soldiers landed, but dared not stay too close to the edge for fear of being hit. Rather, they scrambled up the hillside away from where Jan was hiding. The snow up the slope was deeper than the snow down by the shoreline. With each laborious step the soldiers sank deeply, hampering their chase. Jan watched their movement between the gnarled black and white trunks of the dwarfed birch trees. He saw no way of escaping.

  The saboteurs came ashore where author Tore Haug is sitting.

  As fate would have it, the Germans suddenly noticed where he crouched. Tumbling down the hill towards him, they opened fire 150 feet away. Surprisingly, they ran past him towards the Idrupsens’ house further down on the eastside, then towards the water’s edge, blocking him from using that way as an escape route. To the left Jan now had four pursuers, behind him the warship and the water, and to the right, a path which led straight toward the Germans who had subjugated the crew. Momentarily Jan thought maybe the cold would win out. He felt as if the bitter chill would take his life. Only a few feet from him lay his dead friends.

  When Toftefjord is calm, part of M/K Brattholm’s twisted skeleton is visible on the bottom.

  Jan, a good sportsman and in top physical condition, had become a commando soldier through his training with the Linge Company in the Scottish Highlands. He let his instincts take over at the right moments. His overwhelming desire to live crushed the possibility of surrendering. Jan’s iron will triumphed over the frigid Arctic, his exhaustion and bare foot, and the test of wits between him and his chasers. In a dire situation such as this, most men might sink into the deep snow, bow their heads, and plead for mercy. But like his Viking ancestors, admired for their bravery, fighting spirit, and extraordinary courage, Jan determined to take up the fight against the insurmountable odds. He had to act. Stooped over, almost to a crawling position, he bolted forward into the snow.