Jan was thankful for the help showered upon him and was thrilled with the comfortable mattress behind the haystack. He felt safe. He slept mostly for the four days and nights he had been at Grønvoll farm. He had had no strength when he arrived here; sleep had been a welcome gift.
Marius, as often as he could and when he felt it was safe, entered through the hatch and visited with him. Jointly they made their plans. They had so much to share and tell one another. Marius was able to reiterate the Tromsø rumors and what he had heard about the fate of Jan’s friends. Jan lay still and listened, saddened, as again the terrible tragedy was verified. Jan surmised that the two men taken prisoner were Moursund and Knudsen.
The merchant at Bromnes, a few days after the battle in Toftefjord, had received a package in the mail. The package held a rope with a noose in one end. On a torn off paper slip it said:
This rope is meant for you. Should it be too difficult for you to use, I will be happy to come and assist you.
The sender was anonymous and nothing else happened.
After the Toftefjord tragedy, the Germans had been around the district arresting people, looking for radios. They imprisoned family members of young men who had been able to escape to Sweden.
German Schnell boats patrolled the fjord often around the inlets of Furuflaten. It was risky for Jan to remain in the barn for long. Sooner or later the rumor mill would begin to buzz. Even if the Germans didn’t figure out that the elusive Jan was in their midst, Marius’ neighbors would soon begin to wonder about all the trips to the barn.
One could not expect everyone to be tight-lipped – that would be a fatal mistake.
BUSY DAYS ON GRØNVOLL FARM
THE GHASTLY man that had fallen through Hanna Pedersen’s door a few days earlier was not horrifying anymore. He was not a stranger, but a friend. Tending Jan and taking food to the barn three times a day was not a chore, but a highlight for Gudrun and Ingeborg as intense and bright as the summer midnight sun.
The young women were filled with pride each time they returned from the barn. They admired Jan’s courage and fortitude and were impressed with his knowledge and his work as a saboteur. The Gestapo was hunting him. Yet they were the ones who had him.
As strong and skillful as Jan was, now when he was in danger and vulnerable, he depended on them. This brought them happiness. Each morning they looked forward to their visits with him, though they were usually brief. Jan had brought with him glimpses of a world they knew little about, a world they had only read about. He made that world real to them. And sometimes Jan wanted to talk. They were all young, they all had dreams and hopes for the future, and they enjoyed sharing them. Their lives had been divergent, but now they met at a crossroad. Jan needed caring and tenderness; he had experienced the evil and terror war brought. Gudrun and Ingeborg needed a chance to serve and to show compassion, which is so much a part of a woman’s heart. Jan’s and the young women’s needs met as moments of gentleness in a cruel world. It was good for all of them to make new friends.
As the days passed, a routine of sorts developed; having Jan hidden in the barn was not as frightful as it had in the beginning. They were, of course, still aware of the danger, but a quiet peace settled back over the Grønvoll farm as everyone went about their daily chores.
One day, the peaceful atmosphere was shattered. Within seconds, horror replaced the tranquility and paralyzed all in the little log cabin. Two German soldiers with shotguns over their shoulders were headed straight for the cabin where Marius was visiting with Hanna. As the soldiers crossed the farmyard, Marius went out to greet them.
They told him they had come to re-examine the farm for illegal radios. In 1941 the Germans attempted to confiscate all the radios across Norway. Many Norwegians hid their radios rather than give them up. Aware of this, the Germans carried out raids unexpectedly, often revisiting places they had been just a short time earlier. The laws were strict; no one was allowed to listen to a radio. Heaven forbid that a Norwegian should hear the enemy’s messages from London! If caught, the punishment was swift and cruel - torture or the concentration camp, or both.
Though they had recently ransacked the Grønvoll farm, the soldiers announced they’d returned to re-examine the barn. The girls froze. Someone must have reported them - they had been betrayed! Jan would be found and shot! And so would they. Ingeborg could not help herself; tears streamed down her ashen cheeks. She went to the bedroom and sat down in a corner to hide. All was over.
Marius and Gudrun were told to come to the barn with the soldiers. The soldiers walked two steps behind them. It was difficult to keep a nonchalant appearance. Gudrun also fought tears. A few years older than her sister in the cabin, Gudrun was still just a young woman. As they neared the barn she wanted to shout, to tell Jan to run away. She knew it would be impossible; poor Jan could not even stand on his feet, much less run.
The cow barn and the piles of hay were meticulously inspected. The Germans poked their guns into places they could not get to and lifted and pushed farm tools aside. The stress became unbearable.
Marius stood and watched them dispassionately with his hands in his pocket. His face did not reveal the fright within. They neared the stepladder and one soldier began his ascent. He pressed his helmeted head against the hatch, lifted it up and peeked around the hayloft. The hatch was heavy and he grunted trying to hold both his gun ready for action and the hatch up with his head. With great effort he took one more step – and another; his upper body came through the hatchway. He turned in every direction, breathed heavy and groaned, irritated by the heavy hatch leaning on him. Below, retreating a few steps, Marius and Gudrun stood helpless next to the other soldier glancing upward. The German soldier turned and studied their faces, holding the gun ready. The siblings thought for sure it all was over.
The future flashed before their eyes: they would be executed, as would Grandmother, Hanna, Ingeborg, Johan and Ottar. Even their innocent neighbors would be imprisoned or shipped off to concentration camp somewhere in Germany. Their beloved Furuflaten village might be burned to the ground. No one would have a home to return to. Jan would be the first one they would grab. They would haul him in for interrogation and torture.
The German atop the ladder fumed and hollered, coughed and spit. He took a step back down on the ladder, stooped and the hatch slammed shut. Down on the floor he brushed the dust and chaff off his uniform.
“No need to ransack up there,” he commented to his buddy. “There is only some dried-up hay.” He turned to Marius and Gudrun.
“Danke,” thank you. “We hope we have not interrupted your day,” he said in broken Norwegian. The soldiers clicked their heels, and nodded stiffly.
“No problem.”
The inspection was over and the soldiers left.
Had the soldier not been slothful, he would have found the catch of his military career, an enemy commando.
The plans for Jan’s continued flight could not be put off. The unseen power that protected Jan from the beginning had sheltered him yet again. As Marius looked ahead, his duty seemed impossible – nonetheless, he would find a way. If Jan had been well and could walk without help, things would be different. But it was too much to expect that Jan could recover quickly. His cheerful manner covered much of his anguish but it all would take time.
Hanna and the girls continued their nurturing care of Jan. He lay in the barn bandaged up, unable to stand and unable to see much. And in this condition, it was Marius’ duty to find a way to get him to Sweden past the German guardposts. Obviously there was no time to waste; the just-completed inspection was proof of that. This challenge was Marius’ greatest test.
Marius thought and schemed the whole day through and into the evening. He had many ideas but one by one he rejected them.
Then one idea burst forth. “Could it be possible?” He headed to the barn to share it with his friend. This was too important and risky not to discuss with him. Jan listened intently. He agreed that the plan Ma
rius presented was daring. They would need help from several courageous men and a generous portion of good luck to succeed. But what other choice did they have? Jan was grateful that Marius would even have such thoughts. After all, he could not just take off on skis anymore.
Marius went to work. Their plan was to remove Jan from the barn during the darkest of night, pull him on a sled down the valley to the fjord, then row him diagonally across the Lyngenfjord toward the northeast, a little over six miles.
On the opposite shore in Revdal, a short distance from the water’s edge stood a little log hut. It was the only remains of a burned-down farm except for the scarred fireplace clinging to a broken-off chimney jutting heavenward where the farmhouse had stood. The untrimmed grass poked through the snow in small tufts here and there. A deserted spot five miles from the nearest neighbor, it was an ideal hiding place.
No road passed through the little place called Revdal, quiet except for the whispering waves and the rushing wind. The little windowless hut could be Jan’s hiding place – a place no one would suspect, stranger than anyone could expect, and surely no one would inspect. Jan would be safe in the hut until they worked out the next phase of his journey to Sweden.
From Furuflaten, Marius could see the log hut with his bare eyes. It was a little black speck just back of the water’s edge. It stood a few hundred feet north of two rivers which plunged down the steep mountainside and emptied into the fjord. The mountain towered nearly 3000 feet behind the hut. Close to the plateau, a narrow valley snuggled into the granite masses. The gorge was called Revdal (Fox Valley), like the little place by the fjord, named after the many foxes which made their homes there.
On the other side of the Revdal mountain plateau, the massive mountains drop steeply, fringed by the elongated Manndalen Valley, stretching into the interior from the Kåfjord. Marius planned to enlist some men from the Manndalen Valley to help get Jan to Sweden. Deep within, he hoped that Jan would improve enough to be able to ski along with them, but that was a wish, not reality. By human standards the flight seemed almost impossible, but desperate men seek desperate solutions.
Even with this hopelessness, Marius never considered quitting; he was not that kind of a man. In a brief time, strong ties had formed between him and Jan. He had tremendous compassion for his new friend, mixed with genuine admiration. Saving Jan was not an option anymore. Marius had determined many days ago to give his all to save Jan, even his life. He had promised Jan that if he had to die, he would not die alone.
THE THREE siblings at Grønvoll farm had another sister, Petra Solberg. She lived a short distance away with her husband. She knew nothing about Jan, and was not told. She was trustworthy, like the rest of her family, but everyone involved felt that the fewer people who knew about Jan, the better the chances of keeping the secret. They felt no need to involve people unnecessarily and risk their lives.
Like most Norwegian women, Petra was an expert knitter. Most Norwegians knit for pleasure, but during the war they did so out of necessity. Gudrun knew that Petra prided herself on knitting her husband’s long underwear, doing all she could to keep him warm and comfortable during the Arctic winters. One day, Gudrun got the sneaky idea to pay her sister Petra a visit; this would be a different kind of a visit. She realized her plan was not kind, but the need was desperate. As Gudrun set out on the 15-minute walk to her sister’s home, she hoped that when she told Petra the whole story in the future, she would be forgiven.
Happy to see Gudrun, Petra welcomed her warmly, ushering her in to the living room where she set the coffee table with home baked goodies and a warm drink. They talked of everyday things and shared thoughts and happenings as sisters are apt to do. This time, however, Gudrun’s heart was not in the visit. She could not get her mind off her brother-in-law’s long underwear. Petra’s husband was a powerfully built man just about Jan’s size, and his underwear would fit Jan perfectly.
Gudrun consoled herself that Jan had to have that well-knitted underwear, knitted with gray yarn, if he was to stay warm on the terrifying journey ahead. As Petra chatted, Gudrun knew she couldn’t ask for a pair outright. Petra had two pairs for her husband. While he wore one, the other was washed and hung to dry on the clothesline stretched between the inside walls of the little outbuilding not far from the main farmhouse.
It would be difficult to get her hands on them, but Gudrun had a quick mind and was determined. She parted from her sister and set out in the direction of her home. Nightfall covered her as she rushed back to the outbuilding, snatched the long underwear off the line, crammed it under her winter coat, and dashed all the way home.
Jan had his long warm underwear.
As for Petra, her hatred for the Germans grew. The following morning when she went to retrieve the underwear and discovered it was gone, she immediately “knew” it was in German hands. In telling her sister Gudrun about the incident later, Petra vowed she would never forgive them!
A TENDER FAREWELL
THE RESISTANCE group in Furuflaten received an important assignment. Many men were needed and all had to be tight-lipped. Marius realized how essential it was to find the right people.
Marius had several reliable friends, some from his boyhood days. One young man, Olaf Lanes, was only 17 years old. Olaf lived at the northern end of the village. A powerfully strong young man with broad shoulders, Olaf was energetic and trustworthy. His father Hans owned a fishing boat, and Olaf had gone fishing with him in Lofoten many seasons already.
Amandus Lillevoll, an unmarried farmer and skipper of his own fishing vessel, was a few years older than was Marius. Amandus was reserved, but had a strong will and always finished what he set out to do. Following his father’s death, he took over the responsibility of supporting his mother and sister. He had a great wit and enjoyed telling stories. Marius wanted him to join the group because he was tough, energetic and trustworthy. But Amandus was still fishing in Lofoten.
Alfon Hansen, 30 years old and Amandus’ cousin, had attended Solhov folk high school in Lyngseidet. His interest was carpentry and he was a skilled craftsman. He also was strong and dependable.
The fourth man Marius wanted for his team was Alvin Larsen, a wise and physically powerful twenty-five-year old who never shunned hard work. When he turned thirteen, Alvin began accompanying his father on frequent fishing trips to the Lofoten Islands. He got his coastal captain’s license when he was only eighteen years old. The rough Arctic seas and climate coupled with heavy work had molded him into a mentally and physically strong man. Alvin preferred to live on the sea.
Olav Bakkevold, the oldest of the men Marius sought, lived on a small farm north of the river. He too was unmarried. Like the other men at Furuflaten, he often fished to help with living expenses. And like the others, he was patriotic and dependable.
Artur Olsen was a post official in Furuflaten. Marius hoped for his help during Jan’s transport down to the fjord. In addition to these men, the resistance leader involved teacher Longva. To a man, all stood ready to help.
Monday, 12 April 1943: The plan was to remove Jan from the barn during the night. The next phase of his flight to freedom was risky but necessary. He had felt safe at the Grønvoll farm, hidden behind the hay up in the barn, and strong ties had formed between Jan and the Grønvolls.
The leave-taking disheartened Jan. The success of the transfer rested on Marius’ shoulders. He came to the barn to wash Jan up. Gudrun and Ingeborg heated water on the wood-burning stove and carried it up to him. Jan would leave with new undergarments, hand knit of pure wool. Jan tried hard to act upbeat and uncomplaining, but Marius sensed his low spirits.
“I am also despairing, Jan. I would have liked for you to stay on,” said Marius.
“Don’t worry, I’ll do fine. And I am impatient to get closer to Sweden.”
“I wish I could stay with you all the way, my friend.”
“It’s just that I…I hate goodbyes. All of you have become dear to me. I am so indebted, Marius.”
/> “Nonsense Jan, we are just happy you found us. We’ve got to get ready now.”
In the late evening, Olav Bakkevold and Alfon Hansen arrived. Still snow-blind and too ill to stand on his feet, Jan was bundled up in wool blankets and placed on the sled. His jovial spirit evaporated. The resistance workers opened the barn door just enough to get the short sled through. Jan’s head and bandaged feet hung over the ends. The wounded commando was too weak to hold his head up, so Gudrun and Ingeborg bent over and cradled it in their hands. They rushed sideways down the steep barn bridge while the three men controlled the sled’s descent.
Jan cried.
The five shadows hurried across the farmyard, pulling the sled bearing a bundled up and strapped down Jan. The men guided the sled from the front while Gudrun and Ingeborg steadied the back. The girls strained to support Jan’s head, stooped over as they were.
At the end of the farmyard, they veered the sled to the left, ending up in a long, narrow hollow bordered by scattered trees and bushes. Further down they crossed a belt of crusty snow leading to the moraine-covered riverbed. A few darkened homes revealed no activity.
The 12th Man Page 17