His boots were entombed in ice that extended well up his legs. It was obviously difficult for the creature to open his swollen eyelids, fire-red around the edges, but he exerted himself, and two horizontal slits appeared.
He spied the plate with the potato peel and fish scraps on the kitchen table. The frozen man toddled over to the table and sank down on a nearby chair. The chair slid toward the wall and he lay half diagonally against the table, grabbing the leftovers and cramming them into his mouth with both of his bluish swollen hands - a starving man out of control. Frightened, Hanna and the children stood speechless, staring at the creature half-lying at their kitchen table. They were watching Jan Baalsrud.
“Johan, run to fetch Uncle Marius.” Johan took a couple of seconds to react, then dashed through the door and toward Uncle Marius’ house a few feet below the farmyard.
Johan took the four steps up to the door in one big jump.
“What’s the matter Johan? It’s not like you not to come in. Come on in!” encouraged his Aunt Gudrun.
“Uncle Marius you must come at once, there is a fugitive in our house!”
Marius did not believe him at first. He was sure Johan was teasing him. They had fun outsmarting each other at times. Having delivered his message, Johan darted back to his home.
As he watched Johan sprint across the farmyard, Marius was not quite sure whether or not the boy was teasing. It all sounded a little unbelievable that a fugitive would come to their house, the uppermost house in the valley.
Still unsure, Marius decided to make an errand to the barn. On his way there, he would have to pass Hanna’s house. As he drew close to the little cabin, Hanna appeared on her front steps and frantically motioned for him to come in, “You have to hurry Marius!”
He realized Johan had been telling the truth and rushed to his sister’s side.
Jan was lying on the floor with a mouth full of leftovers. His remaining strength had deserted him and he had fallen from the chair to the floor.
Marius stood motionless inside the entrance door, gaping at the heap of human being on the floor. Terror stricken, Hanna and her sons looked to Marius then to Jan and back to Marius. They felt totally helpless and bewildered.
“What shall we do, Marius?” Hanna got her voice back. “Who is this man?”
Marius sized up the situation and what to do. Ingeborg and Gudrun joined them from across the way. Marius stopped them in the entryway amid the winter boots, work clothes and coats hanging on pegs.
“We have a very ill man in the kitchen. Please wait here a minute,” Marius said.
He pondered what to do with the ill stranger. The young man looked like a prisoner of war, tortured to the brink of death. He could not have known that this time it was the forces of nature that had been at work, not the Gestapo.
The ghostlike chafed face starkly contrasted with the disheveled coal-black hair and beard, covered with frost and ice just now beginning to melt. Jan covered his eyes with his hands shielding them from the light. He had difficulty keeping them open. It looked like someone or some thing had dragged him across the ground, as scraped up as his face and hands were. But the worst was his ice-covered boots and legs. Marius was simply stunned.
When Jan fell, Hanna thought he was dead. The fish scraps still filled his mouth; he had not the strength to swallow before sinking to the floor. She leaned over him to see if he was still breathing.
Marius took control of the situation. Flashes of the rumors he’d heard about Toftefjord ran through his mind. He called for his sisters in the anteroom. They were anxious to help.
“What if the Germans should come?” Hanna went in and out of shock.
“They are so close, aren’t they Uncle Marius? What shall we do?” Ottar asked.
“Yes, they are near. But we will find a way to help this man. We must do this,” Marius whispered.
Jan struggled to say a few words. It was difficult to understand him as he struggled to move his lips. “I am on my way to Balsfjord. Are there any Germans around here?” He tried to keep his eyes open while he was speaking.
“You are among friends, and have nothing to worry about,” Marius tried to ease his fears.
“What is your name? My name is Marius Grønvoll.”
Jan ignored the question about his name. “Did you say there are no Germans around here?” Jan was anxious.
“You only have to worry about getting well. We’ll take care of you.”
The family went to work to try and save him. Marius started by chipping the ice off Jan’s legs and boots. Hanna heated water on the wood-burning stove. He had to be cleaned up. The boots had frozen to his feet and were whittled off in small pieces. The socks were cut off in strips. The sight of his feet and legs was shocking! The girls became queasy. They had never seen flesh with such terrifying colors, mostly an off-color blue, but in places covered with darker bluish-black-purplish spots. Other parts were a white-rosy marble-like color. Despite his agony, Jan didn’t complain as the family worked feverishly to try and bring circulation back into his body.
Hanna and Marius got him cleaned up and changed his clothing. Gudrun and Ingeborg gathered pails of snow; they knew the best treatment for frostbite was to rub and massage the affected area with snow. It made no difference if they touched the ice or his legs, the temperature was the same.
Marius stayed in command. He placed Hanna’s son Johan outside to keep watch. No one could be allowed to surprise them. The cabin had no place where they could hide Jan. Clear to them all was that they were laboring under the threat of a death sentence. The Germans had brought fear to the settlement in Furuflaten with their many posters attached to telephone poles and anywhere there was room, warnings to anyone who worked against them that should they be discovered the result would be death by an execution squad.
The girls began their work. Taking a leg each, they rubbed and massaged as gently as they could. Jan moaned, but it had to be done; it was the only chance to get his blood circulating again. Their backs hurt, their hands were chilled and yet they kept at it, hour after hour. Hanna and Marius took their turns. Jan was massaged continuously into the early morning hours. When one tired, another took over. They were encouraged when Jan first began to respond; how they wanted to save this man.
Gradually he was able to say a few words. Marius quickly gained his trust. Jan said his hometown was Oslo where his family lived and that he was the only survivor from Brattholm.
Marius was now able to put all the pieces together; this was a fugitive from the Gestapo! “Incomprehensible that this man is still alive,” he told himself. Even at that, Marius was completely in the dark about how many times Jan had escaped death, nor did he have any knowledge of the mental agony Jan had already lived through. All Marius knew was that this man needed help, and as long as it was humanly possible, he vowed he would be there for him.
Two courageous men, Jan and Marius instantly bonded. The head of the Furuflaten underground, Marius wondered, “Was it just chance that led Jan to me?” Marius did not think so. Once Marius gave his heart to a person, or a cause, he was fiercely loyal. He cared about people. A warm, loving human being who knew when to help, Marius never pushed himself on people and only stepped in when needed. If someone was in need, no risk, no German, no threat of death, could stand in his way.
When he graduated from elementary school at the age of thirteen, his education was over; so like most of the other young men at that time he had to help supplement the family income. The early 1900’s were an extremely difficult time economically for the people of northern Norway. Marius helped his parents provide the necessities of life by fishing, but he also had a deep interest in photography and writing, and after awhile became a reporter for the newspaper Tromsø.
Marius’ lack of education, however, was not a hindrance to his curious mind. He was well read, and was familiar with the works of the Norwegian literary giants. He often quoted from memory the works of Ibsen, Welhaven and Bjørnson, as well as K
ipling and others.
Marius deeply loved Norway. Extremely patriotic, he was a leader, respected and trusted by the two hundred people in Furuflaten. To him, it was his civic duty to help another Norwegian in need.
That evening, Marius took a break and returned to his home across the farmyard to eat dinner with his mother. Filled with love and concern for her children and grandchildren, she was skeptical about helping this stranger. There were no blind spots in her eyes - she knew the danger and what it might do to her family.
Marius sat down next to her and in his warm understanding way explained the situation. When she resisted, he asked her, “If I, your own son, should end up wounded and helpless in Oslo – and no one would come to my assistance – what would you do?” His mother turned silent, looked admiringly at her son who had displayed such wisdom, and said not a word. After a brief interval she expressed her change of mind. Her son was doing that which he ought to be doing, that which was good and decent. She agreed with her Marius. The stranger had to be taken care of, no matter what the cost. She looked at him with moist eyes and patted his hand.
“Son, you are a good man. We must do that which is right. You have my blessing.”
The situation was extremely tense at the Grønvoll farm. Many Germans were quartered at Solhov School in Lyngseidet, the German headquarters for the whole Eastern Front, and only nine miles away. And down in Furuflaten, close to the fjord, the Germans had confiscated the local school, which was now being used for a German billet. The soldiers, when not busy, milled around Furuflaten, and it was not unusual for them to come unannounced to the farm to purchase eggs and milk. The Grønvolls tried to avoid selling to their enemy, but most often the choice was not theirs.
Marius, Hanna and the two girls counseled together and made the decision to give their all to help Jan to freedom. The safest place to hide him was in the barn, up in the hayloft where there was presently an abundance of hay. No one but the family was to know about this; not even their nearest neighbor could know they were hiding and aiding a fugitive.
The girls had done their best for Jan, tending his hands, feet and legs. Old clothing, sheets and such were scarce during these days when any old piece of clothing was altered for many different uses, but having gathered what could be found, the girls and Hanna tore them into strips. A salve with a cod-liver oil base, a healing compound much used by Norwegians, was applied to Jan’s body where needed, after which the strips of sterilized cloth were wound around his affected limbs until they were completely protected.
His general condition was so poor and his pain so insufferable that he was totally helpless, unable to stand on his own legs. The situation looked bleak. Even after all the Grønvolls’ efforts, Jan’s atrocious suffering in the mountains had taken its toll.
IN THE HAYLOFT
IN ONE of the outbuildings was an old sled. Around two in the morning, Marius and the two girls lifted Jan onto the sled. Johan kept watch outside, and when all was pronounced clear, they pulled Jan across the farmyard in the dark. They towed and pushed him up the steep barn bridge. The barn was furthest away from the other buildings in the farmyard, and the barn bridge, the only way they could get him up into to the hayloft, was in the opposite direction from their neighbors, facing Lyngsdalen Valley from where Jan had come.
Marius had brought an old mattress up earlier and placed it in the far corner of the hayloft. He and his sisters transferred Jan to the mattress and tucked wool blankets around him. They left him there, hidden behind the haystacks. All went home, but none of them slept. Throughout the night Marius pondered and the girls were frightened. What would happen to them if the Germans came and found Jan? Of a truth, they knew, but they were too frightened to share their thoughts with one another. Morning emerged without the girls having been able to squelch their fears. The experience was all too traumatic for them.
The assignment given to the saboteurs in Shetland was code-named “Martin.” The Grønvolls decided to call Jan by that name. He had been in the hayloft for a couple of days, and in spite of the Grønvolls’ nurturing, Jan’s feet didn’t show any signs of improvement. He remained unable to stand on them. Marius puzzled over what to do next.
During the many days Jan was detained in the mountains, snow blindness had set in. His cornea and eye membranes were damaged and inflamed, infected by the reflection of the sun’s ultraviolet rays on the snow. His eyes pained him terribly. Sunlight caused a burning sensation. Tears flowed continually. His red, swollen eyelids were roughly attached to one another. When he tried to open them, only a narrow slit appeared, but it enabled him to hazily see the people around him and some of the surroundings. Relief came only when he closed his eyes.
Gudrun and Ingeborg’s main assignment was to bring food to Jan in the barn. To be sure, they never took the barn-bridge up to the hayloft. No unnecessary tracks were to be made in the snow. Instead they went in through the barn door, past the cow barn, up the ladder and through the hatch in the ceiling up to the hayloft. They were aware that Jan always kept the loaded pistol close by his side; when they neared the top of the stepladder, they called out, “Martin, I am bringing your food.” Three times a day they brought him food. Gudrun often prepared and cooked the food, such as potatoes and other root vegetables, meat, fish and tea if available. Whatever the family ate they shared with Jan.
Being young, it was a highlight of Gudrun and Ingeborg’s day to go and visit with this commando soldier. He was good at camouflaging his own pain and the sorrows he carried. At the same time, they were shy and reserved, and hardly dared exchange any words with him. They knew, above all, he needed to rest. The girls did not know how much their visits meant to him. Jan always had a smile and a friendly comment for them. He felt their selflessness and their eagerness to help him. Jan was overwhelmed with indescribable gratitude when he saw these beautiful genuine girls who risked so much on his behalf. The world and its cruel ways had not, to a great extent, intruded upon Furuflaten.
Helpless, ill, and at the point of death, he had been brought into the safety of this barn and had been shown the greatest of care and concern. It was unavoidable that Jan had become very fond of the Grønvolls and all who had helped him.
Likewise, the girls felt pride each time they visited the hayloft with food for Jan. Knowing they played a small part in saving the life of a Norwegian saboteur, taking him away from the Gestapo so to speak, made their hearts joyful. In spite of that, they were careful not to spend too much time with him. They wanted to be sure he got the rest he needed.
Marius felt unsafe. During periods of good weather, without snowfall, the German and Austrian soldiers living at the school in the valley did not have much to do with their time. The road between the Pollfjell Mountain and Lyngseidet did not have to be cleared and plowed on those days, and the soldiers’ days seemed tiresomely long. To lessen their boredom, they would ski up into the countryside, and they often made their treks close behind Marius’ barn where there was good skiing in the sloped fields.
Jan’s tracks still remained in the snow; they led straight to the farmyard only a few hundred feet away. Marius thought with great alarm of the consequences should the soldiers discover them.
The day after Jan came to the Grønvoll farm, Marius decided to do something about the tracks. He put his own boots on and followed in Jan’s footsteps from the barnyard down the steep hillside towards the riverbed. Marius made a frightening discovery; the trail revealed a fight for life beyond anything he could have comprehended.
A short distance from the farm, Marius noticed Jan’s tracks disappeared into a circle in among a grove of stunted, windblown birch trees. Jan had walked round and round in circles! He must have been partially unconscious, Marius thought, unable to see much, but determined not to lie down and die. He had to keep himself erect; he had to keep walking. If he stopped, the exhaustion would overtake him; he would sink into the snow and perish.
Marius saw before him, like a moving picture, the unsteady strid
e of two feet transformed into two hunks of ice. He felt Jan’s pain, fright, exhaustion and despair, and his struggle for consciousness. In many places he noted how the footprints had taken off from the circle. Jan’s trail showed confused side trips from the pressed-down circle; a couple of them turned close to the Grønvolls’ barn before they took off down into the valley. Totally bewildered, Jan had fought for his life in a circle. He had spent hours around and in between the birch trees.
Jan had been near the farm without ever knowing how close he had been to relief. Marius realized the man in his barn was no run-of-the-mill soldier. Eager to help Jan anyway he could, Marius retraced his footsteps back to the farmyard. Let the Germans come. Let them ask about the mysterious tracks in the snow! He would have no problem explaining that as a farmer he, from time to time, had to go up into the valley for wood. Marius hurried to the hayloft.
“Hello Martin, it’s me, Marius!” he called out, as he neared the top of the ladder leading to the loft. Excited by his discovery, the farmer laid out for Jan his visit to Lyngsdalen in great detail. Jan was overcome by the news. It all seemed so distant and hazy. All he remembered was the one thing that had remained crystal clear during his fight against fatigue: if he had not been able to place one foot in front of the other, or if he had sat down to rest, he would never have been able to get up – and would have lain there and frozen to death.
Jan did not want to die.
This helped Marius understand why Jan had continued for hours in the circle among the birch trees. Jan expressed his appreciation for all Marius’ family was doing for him, and his concern for them. The resistance leader’s answer was simple and direct. “It might cost me my life, but what of it? You have to say ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ to life.”
Marius gave a resounding “Yes” to helping Jan.
Everyone on the Grønvoll farm, especially the young girls, fought a constant battle with fear. Ingeborg, the youngest, was almost in shock. Jan’s appearance and need for help had torn the safety net of the farm away from her in a dramatic way; it was a difficult experience for her. The war had now entangled her family. Any talk about death and danger and risk terrified her. The adults’ concerned and troubled looks only added to her fears. Ingeborg knew they were afraid the Germans would raid the farm. She also knew they were afraid for what might happen to Jan, and also the family, should the Germans find Jan in the hayloft. They didn’t talk about it, but the fear hovered over all of them. It was in the air around them. Ingeborg could even see it in their actions: the many times they looked out the kitchen window and scanned the country lane leading to their house, and how they tensed when the telephone rang. Yet she knew that no matter how afraid her family was, they would never think of turning their backs on Jan, or on any human being in need just to save themselves. Ingeborg was near tears continually, and food held no temptation for her. She tried to act brave like the rest of her family.
The 12th Man Page 16