Mallory sat down in the chair opposite the officer’s desk and watched as he took his own seat. He studied her papers, then said, “Your name is Mallory Anne Winslow?”
“Yes, Lieutenant.”
“You are not a citizen of Norway?”
“No, I’m not.”
“According to this, you are from Africa. Is that correct?”
“Yes, it is.”
“What are you doing in Norway?” His tone was cold, but not as cold as his eyes. There was almost an aura of evil about this officer that frightened Mallory. She knew a little about the activities of the SS and had heard many horror stories of torture and beatings of the captives of the lands that Germany had conquered. She kept her head high and said, “I came as a missionary to the Lapp people.”
“A missionary!” The thin lips curled, and he shook his head. “That doesn’t sound too likely.”
“It’s true, though.”
Uldrich Stahl laughed. “Just like you Americans. That’s your nationality according to the papers.”
“Yes, that’s correct. I don’t understand you, Lieutenant.”
“Great things are going on in the world, and you waste your life preaching to a few Lapps. Why, they’re primitive people. They make no contribution to the world.”
“They are important to God.”
His face grew tense. “I am not here to listen to your religious nonsense!” he snapped. “Here, you will fill out these papers. I will return and expect to see them done.”
Getting up, Stahl left the office and moved across to the next door. When he entered, he found Colonel Ludwig Ritter studying a large map of Norway that was on his desk.
“Ah, Stahl,” Ritter said, “I was about to send for you. We’ve got to do something about these villages up in the north. They’re hotbeds of this resistance movement.”
“Of course, Colonel. Have you ever heard of a woman called Mallory Winslow?”
“No. Who is she?”
“She’s an American who is in Norway, but she comes from Africa, of all places.”
“What’s she doing in Norway?”
“She claims she’s a missionary and she came here to preach to the Lapps, but she lives here in Oslo. I don’t trust her.”
Colonel Ludwig Ritter finally looked up from the map. He was a tall man, thin and spare, with icy blue eyes. “Why do you not trust her?”
“It’s foolishness!” Stahl said. “You know how awful conditions are in the winter, but I have it on good authority that she actually lives with those people during the winter months. They live like pigs, Colonel.”
“I’ve heard that, but do you have any evidence that she’s an agent?”
“Not yet, but I’m suspicious. She’s an attractive woman, and no attractive woman would throw herself away like that.”
“Well, keep your eye on her.”
“I may lock her up and interrogate her.”
“No. If she’s an American, that could cause trouble.” He looked at his map again and traced his finger from Oslo north to Lapland. “Why don’t you show her in. I want to meet her.”
“Jawohl, Colonel.”
Colonel Ritter’s mind worked rapidly, for he had a superior intellect. He was a career officer and at heart was a greedy man. Unsatisfied with his pay, he made a habit of stealing treasures from conquered people. He had become a wealthy man by becoming one of the first men into Austria, where he had looted the museums, stealing priceless paintings. Some he’d had to turn over to the upper echelon, including Göring, who was completely greedy about such things. But he had managed to keep enough for his own private collection that he need not worry about money.
“This is the woman, Colonel.”
“Ah yes, Miss Winslow. Will you sit down?”
Stahl left and closed the door behind him.
“Thank you, Colonel.” Mallory sat down and faced the officer. His eyes were as cold as polar ice, and the smile on his lips did not reach them. She answered all of Ritter’s questions, which seemed innocent enough, but finally he said, “I think it might be wise for you to leave Norway, Miss Winslow.”
“I can’t do that, Colonel. You see, I believe God has called me to be a missionary with the Lapps.”
“You understand you can be forced to leave.”
“That would not make a good impression on the United States,” she said quietly. “The American press is not friendly toward you as it is. I’m not sure you would want it known that a simple missionary was prohibited from serving God.”
A hot reply leaped to Ritter’s lips, but he bit it off before it escaped. “Very well, then, but you will have to submit to the same regulations as the Norwegians.”
“Of course, Colonel. There will be no problem about that.”
“That is all.”
As soon as Mallory left, Stahl came in. “What did you think of her?”
“I think she’s probably what she says she is.”
“Well, I’m not convinced!”
“Just keep an eye on her. If she gets troublesome, we may have to deport her. Perhaps we might have to take even stronger measures. But do nothing without speaking to me first.”
“Yes, Colonel.”
****
The shortwave radio that sat on the dressing table in Mallory’s room crackled and popped for a moment, and then a British voice came in clear and strong. Mallory leaned toward the radio, listening intently. She had the volume turned down, for the Germans had forbidden any private citizen to own a shortwave radio. Her eyes narrowed as she listened to the announcer, who spoke grimly about the British position in France:
. . . and so the violence and the speed of the Nazi blow, which has broken through France, has taken the world by surprise. The Nazi forces have flanked the Allies at every turn, and Nazi bombers have attacked incessantly. British and French troops have been driven back during the onslaught of the Nazis until now they have reached the beaches at Dunkirk. They wait there in thin and winding but disciplined lines for small boats to take them to the transports and warships that wait offshore. Overhead the RAF fights valiantly against numerically superior Nazi air power.
The evacuation fleet consists of practically every boat England and France have that can cross the Channel. There are ferry boats, small fishing trawlers, transports, and warships—a vast flotilla of small boats shuttled between the beaches and the big ships offshore. Day and night now, for five days, the evacuation to England has continued while the Nazis push the heroic rear guard closer and closer to the ruined port of Dunkirk. More than three hundred thousand Allied soldiers have been heroically evacuated, but though the men have escaped, they had to leave all of their heavy armor, vehicles, and other equipment behind. Now that the British are gone, nothing stands between Paris and the onrushing German hordes—
The announcer’s voice seemed to break; then he said, “France has fallen, for all practical purposes, and Paris cannot be saved.”
For some time Mallory listened as the announcer reviewed some of what had happened in the last week or so, and she heard the hopelessness in his voice. Finally she turned off the radio and sat thinking. The news was discouraging, and she knew it would darken the spirits of Eva and Lars. They had been so kind to her ever since she had come to Norway as a stranger, letting her stay in their house time and again.
She knew she could not leave this radio in her room, for the Germans were now breaking into houses and ransacking them, searching for anything that was forbidden. Those who possessed these items were immediately arrested, and Mallory could not bear the thought of this happening to her host and hostess.
She hurriedly gathered up her equipment, which was considerable, and took it out to the small barn. The building was now used mainly for storage, and no animals were kept there. The upstairs could be reached only by a ladder fastened to the side wall and was crowded with odds and ends of furniture and other items from the past. It took several trips, but finally she had all of her shortwave equipment t
ransferred.
She moved a pile of junk—old tables, desks, lamps, chairs, boxes, boards—out of a corner of the loft next to a window. Where all the stuff had come from, she had no idea. Perhaps Eva’s grandparents had left it there. She carefully piled the stuff around the corner, making a small room with miscellaneous junk for walls. She set the largest of her radios on a small table that she had salvaged and dropped a wire out the window for an antenna. She looked around with satisfaction at her new communications center.
The radio worked even better than it had in the house. “There,” she said grimly, “they’ll never find this dream of a radio up in this old junk room.”
She climbed down the ladder and went back into the house to get dinner started. Thirty minutes later when Eva came in, she told her the bad news about Dunkirk.
“I know. It’s a bad day for France—and for the world.”
“Can nothing stop the Germans, Eva?”
“They will be stopped, but it will take time.” She had a worried look on her face. “We’ve got to get Sigrid out of here before she gets arrested for her writing.”
“Do you have any ideas?” Mallory asked as she cut potatoes into chunks. “Can I be of any help?”
“I don’t think there’s anything you can do. Rolf and Nils have a plan to take her to Sweden.”
“But Nils is only sixteen.”
“When there’s a war going on, a sixteen-year-old is a man, Mallory. Boys have to grow up quickly these days.”
“What a tragedy! He’s losing his youth.”
“We are losing everything, but our day will come.”
Mallory lit the burner under the pan of potatoes. “I moved all of my radio equipment out to the barn.” Mallory went on to explain what she had done.
“That was a good idea! We’ll be using that radio a lot.”
****
Four days after Mallory had moved the radio, a squad of four privates led by a huge, hulking sergeant searched the house. They roughly shoved Eva and Mallory aside as the sergeant directed the men to search everywhere. “Turn up anything you can find that’s against the Third Reich. We’ll hold these women responsible for whatever you find!” He came over and put his hand on Eva’s shoulder.
She slapped it away and turned to put her back against the wall. “Don’t you touch me!”
The sergeant laughed. “Well, aren’t you the high and mighty one! Maybe I’ll come back later and you and I can talk about it.”
The soldiers made a wreck of the house, and at one point the sergeant started to put his hands on Mallory, but she rebuffed him angrily. “You’re brave, aren’t you, with two women?”
“I’m a good man with women.” The sergeant winked.
Again he attempted to put his arm around Mallory, and she snapped, “Maybe I’ll have to report you to the American authorities.”
“American authorities? What do we care about them?” The sergeant’s round red face grew stern. “Do you have a radio in this house?”
“Yes, I do,” Mallory answered at once.
“Get it.”
Eva stared at her, but Mallory, followed by the sergeant, went to her bedroom and picked up a small receiving set she’d had for a long time.
“Radios are illegal,” the man barked. “Do you have any more radios in this house?”
Mallory was glad he had added in this house, for now she could honestly say, “No. There’s nothing like that.”
After the soldiers had left, Eva said, “It’s a good thing you hid the rest of your equipment. You’re good with radios, and we need help.”
“What can I do, Eva?”
“Lars and I are going to lead the resistance here in Oslo. We’re going to need to contact England often. Agents need to come here, and we have to get information out.” She collapsed onto the sofa. “None of us are good with such things.”
Mallory sat down beside her but did not speak for a moment.
“Of course, this is not your country.”
“It’s not that, Eva. I-I’m just not sure what to do anymore. Let me pray about it.”
“Pray quickly.”
“I will. Is there any news about Sigrid?”
“No. It will be difficult for her to escape. They have thrown up more guards around Oslo and all up and down the Swedish border. It’ll be awfully risky. They will all be shot if they’re caught. You know that.”
“I know. But it mustn’t happen.”
“It can happen, though. It’s already happening all over Norway. They’re taking hostages and shooting them without trials.”
****
For several days Mallory struggled with the question of whether or not to help with the resistance. She had learned to love this country and the people in it, but she had not been able to reconcile serving in the resistance, which could mean violence. She firmly believed that her call was still to preach the Gospel to the Lapps. The problem perplexed her, and she prayed long and hard without arriving at a definite answer.
Finally she said one evening at supper, “I can’t decide what to do about helping you with the radio, but, Lars, I can train you to use it.”
“I am not good with such things,” he said. “Actually none of us in the group are. Mechanical things are difficult for us.”
“That’s true,” Eva agreed, “and you even make your own radio sets.” The solution Mallory had offered did not seem practical.
Mallory was preparing for bed that night when suddenly she heard voices in the living room. She put on her robe and went out to find Rolf speaking hurriedly with Lars and Eva. “Did you get Sigrid away all right?” Mallory asked. “I’m so glad you’re back.” The hard look on Rolf’s face made her ask, “What’s wrong, Rolf?”
“The Germans almost caught us.” His voice was spare, and anger glowed in his eyes. “We got Sigrid into Sweden, but coming back, we ran into a patrol. I got away, but they caught Nils.” He looked up to the ceiling and exhaled loudly. “He’s going to be shot in the morning, Mallory.”
“Oh no!” she whispered. “He’s only a boy.”
“They’re going to shoot him all the same.” Rolf quickly left the room but not before Mallory had seen tears glistening in his eyes. She turned to face Eva and Lars, who stood silently before her. “Isn’t there anything we can do?”
“There’s no way to save him,” Lars said, his voice as hard as granite. “We’ll do the only thing we can.”
“What is that?”
“The Germans are going to make a public spectacle out of it. We’ll get as many people as we can to go.”
“You mean to witness the execution?”
Eva said in a tense voice, “It’s the only way we have to say good-bye to Nils.”
****
The square where the execution was to take place was filled. Lieutenant Stahl had arrived at the center court, where the firing squad was already drawn up. He looked around at the crowd and said, “I didn’t expect all these people here.”
“It’s good for them,” Colonel Ritter answered. “Apparently, the boy was popular. It will teach them that they can’t defy us.”
“Have your men ready. There could be trouble.”
“No, Colonel, they’ve got better sense than to attack us.”
Mallory stood across the courtyard beside Eva and Lars. Her head felt strangely light. She could not believe that the young boy so full of life and fun was going to die in a few moments.
“Bring the prisoner forward!” Colonel Ritter’s voice bellowed, and a thick silence fell over the crowd.
Mallory dropped her head, not wanting to watch, but Lars said, “We must honor Nils and let him know that he’s giving his life for his country.”
“He’s a Christian,” Eva said. “You know that. So he’s going to be with his God.”
Forcing herself to look up, Mallory saw a squad of six soldiers bringing Nils out of the building down the street. They had to half carry him, and she heard Lars say bitterly, “They tortured him! He can
’t even stand up!”
“Tortured him? Why?” Mallory wailed.
“To try to make him tell who was with him, to give our names. He must not have talked, or we’d be under arrest right now.”
Mallory watched as they tied Nils to a post. She heard Stahl ask him if he wanted a blindfold, but he said no.
Nils’s voice was weak, but he held his head up. As he looked around, he saw the massive crowd that had gathered, and despite his plight, he suddenly smiled.
The soldiers who had tied him up moved away, and Stahl ordered, “Firing squad, take your positions!”
Stahl had no sooner spoken than a woman started singing the national anthem of Norway in a powerful operatic voice. Instantly hundreds of voices joined in, filling the bright, sunshiny air of May with song.
Mallory joined in, and despite the grief she felt, a strain of pride came to her for these people.
Ritter shouted, “Quiet! Lieutenant, stop them!”
Stahl marched back and forth screaming until his face grew red, but he could not make himself heard.
Finally in a rage, he turned and caught Ritter’s nod. “Ready!” he screamed at the firing squad.
The voices in the crowd broke off as the rifles were aimed, and then Mallory heard Lars cry out loudly, “God be with you, Nils!”
“Aim!” Stahl cried out.
And then, with tears running down her cheeks, Mallory stared at the face of the young man. His face was pale, but he suddenly smiled and cried out in a loud, strong voice, “God bless Norway—Jesus Christ is Lord!”
“Fire!”
Mallory dropped her eyes so she would not see the bullets strike, but silence fell over the crowd, and then another voice cried out, “God bless Norway!”
As others took up the cry, Ritter shouted, “Disperse these people, Lieutenant!”
The crowd turned and began to leave as the soldiers approached, shoving those who hesitated.
As Mallory stumbled away, she felt Lars take her arm to steady her. She looked up at him and said, “I want to be part of the resistance, Lars. Just tell me what to do.”
The Unlikely Allies Page 13