The 12th Man

by Astrid Karlsen Scott

  At this time of the year, Alfred was busy setting fish nets out in Ullsfjorden. They were set at the innermost part of Jøvika Cove in the Kjosenfjord. To get there, he had to row northeast toward Grøtsundet Sound around the promontory into where the Ullsfjord cuts inland toward the south. Further in, it divides into Kjosenfjord toward the east and Sørfjord toward the south. The distance of travel round trip was almost twenty miles.

  Alfred owned a remodeled dory without a deck. A small wheelhouse was built toward the front of the boat, close to the motor. Below the wheelhouse a modest little cabin was embodied. They called the boat Bloffsen, but its official mark was “AKT-T28 TD.” Her crew, in addition to Alfred, was his son Jon, who lived in a neighboring house on the south side of Løvli farm, and Peder Nilsen from Svarvaren a little further south.

  Monday mornings, it was Alfred’s habit to sail into Jøvika Sound. On this Sunday he changed his schedule. He and Jan had come to a possible solution. They would put to sea late Sunday evening after dark, and plot a course for Nordkjosen, in Ullsfjord. From there Jan could ski by way of Lyngen, with Sweden as his final objective. Alfred would bring his usual crew. Earlier in the day he had sent his daughter Astrid with a message to Peder Nilsen. She walked south on the beach along the fjord, then cut across a field below Peder’s home, and knocked on the door.

  “Mr. Nilsen is it possible for you to come a little earlier today? The weather forecast is not promising and Papa said they could not postpone the fishing trip to Jøvika until Monday morning as planned earlier.”

  “No problem. I’ll be there.”

  Peder, a husband and father, worked a small farm in Svarvaren in addition to being part of Bloffsen’s crew. Just at this time Peder and his wife were deeply sorrowing. Their two-year-old son Norman had accidentally burned his foot on the wood stove. The burn got infected and fever set in. They took him to the hospital in Tromsø, but little Norman never returned home.

  This crushing sorrow enveloped the Nilsens when Astrid came visiting them. Nonetheless Peder was a kind, remarkable human being, sober minded and selfless. He would never turn his back on anyone who needed him, no matter what the situation. He liked working unnoticed. He was a good friend, honorable and courteous.

  Peder had an early afternoon dinner with his wife before he went northward. When he reached Løvli farm, Alfred was out in the farmyard pacing back and forth, chewing tobacco and spitting. He did not say a word to Peder though he had seen him coming. Peder guessed something was wrong.

  Alfred was aware Peder knew the Toftefjord story. Suddenly he turned to him and shared his burden. During the night a stranger had come, the only survivor from the Brattholm tragedy in Toftefjord. He was on a desperate flight from the Germans and was trying to reach Sweden. Lockertsen wondered if Peder would help with the further transport of this man. Peder expressed instant willingness to help. They agreed they would transport him to Tyttebærvika (Lingonberry Cove) in Kjosen.

  Later that afternoon the weather changed and strong wind gusts brought snow showers and awful visibility. In reality, the weather was in their favor since they had to travel across Grøtsundet Sound in the channel where the German patrol boat traveled. Between four and five p.m. they made ready. Jan wore his uniform and he was wearing a thick, Russian style leather cap. A few days earlier Alvin had found it on the beach. It had been washed and dried, and he gave it to Jan.

  The dock at Løvli from which Bloffsen set out.

  Jan was eager to leave, knowing he would soon be able to try out the skis and ski boots he had received at Bjørnskar. Peder noticed the boots were just a smidgen too small, and he was concerned the cold would harm Jan’s already disfigured foot. He cut soles to fit inside the boots made from cellulose. Cellulose was a material easily obtainable during the war and used for many purposes; it is the chief substance composing the cell walls of fibers of all plant tissue. He stuffed the soles into Jan’s boots. Though they crowded Jan’s feet, Peder hoped they would prevent the cold from penetrating the bottom of his boots.

  Anatona readied several small food packs and Jan put them in every pocket of his uniform. He accepted a small knapsack this time. It was filled with a change of clothing and extra food.

  The wind nipped at the four men as they made their way down to the dock. Alvin followed all the way to the wharf but was not allowed to go aboard. He thought this had been a most action-packed Sunday.

  Bloffsen’s rope was unfastened and Alfred went into the wheelhouse and navigated the boat into the open waters. Jan spent most of his time below with Alfred’s son. Amid their small talk, Jan readied and polished his pistol.

  The heavy snowdrifts and wind and Bloffsen with no lanterns were ominous signs. Intermittently the snowfall ceased, the sky cleared, and at that moment the brilliant stars and moon shone forth. The celestial bodies are brighter up close to the North Pole, and there was no place for Bloffsen to hide during those moments. Peder kept watch in those brief intervals of cessation. He could dimly make out the patrol boat pressing toward Grøtnesodden. The Germans aboard the patrol boat knew most of the fishing vessels that went back and forth in these waters; seldom were any of them stopped. If they were called toward the patrol boat, it was usually on the way in from the sea, and most likely because the Germans wanted to buy some of their newly caught fish.

  The men had loaded a sizeable quantity of fishing nets and other fishing gear aboard Bloffsen. They intended to hide Jan under it should the German patrol stop them. Jan insisted this was too risky for them, and felt the Germans would assuredly look underneath the fishnets if they were hunting an escapee. Instead he had Alfred navigate close to land, so that he could slither right into the water and swim to shore without the Germans discovering him. They did as Jan wished, but no one believed he would survive on the mainland very long after such a swim. Coming ashore soaking wet, in deep snow and freezing wind where the houses were scarce, and no one to give him help, he surely would freeze to death in such a situation.

  Even Alfred could not help. It would be impossible for him to turn towards the shore after a German inspection, they would at once become suspicious of them. At the first opportunity after sailing around the northern end of Ullstind Peak, they set the course into the Ullsfjord, relieved that the most dangerous area was behind them. They had made good time and were a little earlier than expected. As a result Alfred slowed Bloffsen, not wanting to arrive in Kjosen before midnight. They wanted to take advantage of the darkness.

  The men worked their way to the innermost section of the fjord before they ventured over toward the eastside. A short distance past Storsteinnes, on the north side of Kjosenfjord was Tyttebærvika. A deserted place, Lockertsen owned a small boathouse in the cove with fishing yarns draped over wooden racks in front. He headed Bloffsen straight in that direction.

  Near midnight they reached the boathouse. The tide was out, and Bloffsen’s motor was shut down some distance from the shore, the water being too shallow to continue all the way in. All the men were willing to bring Jan ashore, but Jan asked Peder to help him these last remaining yards.

  Aboard Bloffsen they had a small dinghy. It was hard for Jan to say goodbye again, to people he had gained such respect for and to whom he owed so much. He climbed over the railing into the ready dinghy, seated himself in the stern, and was handed the skis and the poles. On his back he had his little knapsack.

  Rocks were everywhere. Peder rowed carefully, but they kept colliding with them. At last he pushed with one oar on the bottom to help move them along. Even that only worked for a few yards before the boat stranded. He jumped into the icy water and dragged Jan and the boat as far as possible. Then he went back and got Jan’s skis, poles and the knapsack and brought them over by the boathouse. He re-entered the water, and carried Jan on his back, an arm around each of his legs, and with Jan’s arms around his neck. When they reached the boathouse Peder turned his back to the boathouse and the ladder enabling Jan to climb up dry-shod. Jan was of a much larger stat
ure than Peder but Peder kept a good balance amidst the slippery rocks while bringing him ashore in the dark. Peder now returned to the dingy, waded into the water and dragged it to safety on the shore.

  The two men visited under the cover of the fishnet for about one hour. Peder mentioned some relatives he had in Lyngseidet, and suggested Jan look them up should he have difficulties. He gave Jan good pointers and directions. He also updated him about the surrounding terrain, where he should go, and where there might be danger.

  When the subtle light from the midnight sun became visible in stark contrast to the serrated mountain peaks in the distance, Jan reached out and clasped Peder’s hand firmly, “I know no names,” he assured him. Peder understood it to mean that if Jan was taken a prisoner he could not reveal any names, because he did not know them, and they did not have to be concerned.

  “No German will ever catch me,” he continued. In his gun he had one cartridge left, saved for himself should it be necessary. Jan heartily thanked Peder, and slipped away into the darkness on his skis.

  A NARROW ESCAPE

  APRIL 5, 1943: The loneliness of Tyttebærvika (Lingonberry) seeped into Peder as he stood and watched Jan vanish into the shadows. Jan had come into his life only a few hours earlier but he had left a deep impression. The two men had communicated spirit to spirit, and with his whole being Peder wanted Jan to reach Sweden unharmed. Having just lost his son Norman, Peder did not want to lose his newfound friend as well.

  A narrow motor-road snaked along the Kjosenfjord a few feet up from the shore. Traffic was sparse on this road. Sometimes the whole night could pass without a car being seen. A few miles ahead Lyngseidet Village was crawling with Germans and who could know when they would show?

  Peder Nilsen, 1999

  Peder Nilsen being interviewed by Tore Haug.

  Jan was jubilant. For the first time since Toftefjord he did not have to fight the elements and wade through deep snow or cross mountain plateaus. Ahead lay the open snow-covered road with great skiing conditions. It was the middle of the night and running into people was not a concern. Should he notice approaching car lights it would be an easy thing to fade into the woods bordering the road. In truth this was the first time he felt a road beneath him since he broke away from the Germans. He had food and other necessities in his knapsack. The weather was fairly good, and he was an excellent skier. Re-energized by the circumstances and the hope of soon reaching Sweden, Jan glided across the smooth roads. Sheltered by the darkness he moved rapidly toward Kjosen at the end of the fjord, not quite four miles from Tyttebærvika.

  Jan was able to move so quickly that it surprised him. A feeling bordering on euphoria filled his being. His every need was met; he had dry clothes and plenty of food. While people slept he would work his way through the populated areas. During the days he would seek cover in barns and boathouses along the way and ski mostly at night. With this extraordinary speed he would be at the Swedish border in no time.

  His first goal was to get through the villages of Kjosen and Lyngseidet, then ski along the magnificent Lyngenfjord south toward Elvebakken, a small snugly populated area five miles from Lyngseidet.

  Jan remembered Peder’s words: “You must stay off the road going east toward Lyngseidet, Jan. You will be safer back up in the hillsides.”

  “I’m sure you are right about that,” Jan had agreed.

  “German soldiers as well as the Norwegians will find it peculiar to meet a skier on the road during the night hours. And be aware that in Kjosen there is a road barrier. To pass it, people have to call the guard, a German soldier. He is up at a nearby house. He comes down to check the person’s identification card to see if all is in order before they are allowed to enter the village. You know what you have to do, Jan,” Peder had warned.

  Jan passed through the barrier unnoticed.

  During the nearly two miles between Kjosen and Lyngseidet Village, Jan climbed the incline hidden away from the built-up areas on several occasions.

  As Jan neared Lyngseidet, one of his ski bindings snapped. Although it took him a while to fix it, his watch showed the time to be 4:30 a.m. Jan felt confident he could get through Lyngseidet before people began to stir. But his confidence was misplaced. The watch had been along on three swims in salt water and through many wet storms. Jan neared Lyngseidet center with a marvelous elongated downhill road enabling him to click along at a good speed. Suddenly, two-dozen rowdy German soldiers poured out of a school and swarmed into the road blocking it. The soldiers carried plates and utensils instead of grenades and guns – they were heading for breakfast.

  Jan couldn’t stop abruptly without having the whole troop pounce on him. Having no where else to go, he did what all Norwegians do when skiing and they meet up against people. He kept up his speed and shouted, “Tracks! Tracks!” The soldiers did not move fast enough and Jan was right on top of them. He pushed his way through them shouting “Tracks! Tracks.” trying his best not to act flustered.

  The soldiers must have been half asleep. They neither resisted nor tried to stop him. Jan was amazed they didn’t notice he was wearing a Norwegian Navy uniform with “NAVY” and “NORWAY” insignias emblazoned on his shoulder. It all happened so fast that they, like Jan, probably had no time to react.

  Immediately after skiing through the troop, Jan neared an even steeper downhill road a few hundred yards ahead. The road approached a crossroad down by the fjord. Jan saw another barrier in the middle of the crossroads with only a narrow passageway open on the left. Three German soldiers were inspecting identification cards of Norwegian civilians.

  Jan butted his skis to slow down and veered slightly off the road, coming almost to a standstill. A few yards ahead, he saw a narrow road turning to the right in the direction of a small cottage not far from the barrier. Jan seized the narrow road with his skis, moving as naturally as possible so as not to show the fear of a hunted man. He forced himself to appear relaxed, as if he was going about insignificant business.

  This little side road and his quick decision to take it saved Jan. He continued to move away from the main road and the German guards, and worked his way up the mountain slope. After a while, Jan felt safe enough to stop and think the situation through. He could see the mountain slopes were too close to the German guards and the fjord, and he had to be careful not to reveal himself. Jan remembered the map he had studied which showed an old Sami summer trail used in times past when their reindeer flocks were on the move. This trail went from Lyngseidet over into Lyngsdalen Valley and Furuflaten. Jan was confident he could follow this same road on skis.

  His original plan was to follow the road along the fjord – first to Elvebakken, then later along the road past Pollfjellet Mountain in the direction of the village of Furuflaten. Jan planned to travel only when his surroundings looked safe and mostly at night.

  After his narrow escapes with the Germans that morning, he reconsidered. The area was crawling with Germans, and the first plan no longer seemed prudent.

  ALONE IN THE MOUNTAINS

  APRIL 5, 1943: Jan began his ascent into the high mountain plateau in the early morning hours. He climbed diagonally up the hillside in a southerly direction and stayed well away from the built-up areas of Lyngseidet and other small settlements. He had decided to take the Sami summer road toward Lyngsdalen Valley and Furuflaten.

  Some distance up, Jan reached the Fyenelv River. He stayed close to the riverbed. The hilly terrain rose continually, and in the end, the river became but a small creek hidden under the deep snow and impossible to follow. In his steady climb he had risen some 1500 feet above the fjord. To the west he saw the mighty peaks of Kavringen and Kvalvik.

  The sun shone brightly and below him, to the east, shimmered Lyngenfjord. Staying oriented in this landscape would be easy with such good visibility. Jan hoped to travel far while the weather was so clear. When he reached the top of the plateau, the terrain stayed fairly level for the next two miles.

  Jan maintained a southerly
direction, working his way around the tall peaks. He then turned west in toward Kvalvik Mountain’s south wall. From here the Kvalvik Valley spread out. Jan scanned the landscape and saw no other possibility but to cross the valley. He worked his way down the abrupt slope toward the Kvalvik River, crossed it, and began climbing the south wall of the valley. Viewed from the plateau on the north side, it had looked fairly simple but he found the valley to be much steeper than he’d thought.

  The south wall was too precipitous to use his skis in a herringbone fashion; instead, Jan had to side step his way up from the river. This slowed him down considerably. The Kvalvik Valley forged its way toward the Lyngenfjord in the east. Jan admired and was invigorated by the lofty view.

  His own situation stood in stark contrast to the power and the magnificence of the nature spread before him. Jan had always enjoyed spending time in the mountains. The mountain ranges here in the Troms District, interspersed with sharp jagged peaks and glaciers, were quite different from the ones he’d roamed before the war in southern Norway. The many mountain hikes he had enjoyed with his parents and siblings during his childhood taught him to love and respect nature.

  When he reached Kvalvik Valley, a second valley, possibly Fugledalen, stretched southward. He felt that was the direction he needed to follow. Jan could not remember all the details from the map, but he believed it would take him in the direction of Lyngsdalen Valley.

  Steep mountains bordered Fugledalen Valley on both sides. Jan passed to the east by Bredalsfjellet Mountain and the Vestbreen Glacier. The rugged, varied terrain amazed him and he guessed that the mountain wall he saw to the east was part of Rundfjellet Mountain. The Fugledalen Valley eventually blended with another wide valley that Jan neared as he continued his southerly trek.