October 10 – 11, 1944
At Kjøpmannsholmen, Østervoll told them they had to stay out of sight in a shed near where they were put ashor and that he would come back at night to take them to the rendezvous with the boat that would take them to Shetland and freedom. Because of the code message about meatballs, he thought that it would not be too long to wait. The six Canadians and Johannes Jakobsen went into the shed.
The dirty, drafty two-room shed had been part of an old quarrying operation on he island. One room had bunks, a table and a small window that looked out onto the shipping lanes. The other had been used as a barn and still smelled of sheep. The Canadians were not bothered at all by its condition – they would soon be headed home.
Johannes Jakobsen was dressed in several layers of clothing. When it became too hot for him indoors, he took off the top few layers. Handmade repairs showed that he took care of his own wardrobe. In his striking mixture of languages, he made it clear that he had been hiding from the Germans for some time and had to go to England to find shelter.
The six Canadians did what they could so that the Norwegian would not feel left out, but they needn’t have worried about a gregarious sailor who had spent time with people of many nationalities. He had sailed the world and in Norway had provided intelligence to Allied agents. He had even been on board the Altmark, the German supply ship that became internationally known when forces from the British destroyer HMS Cossack boarded it in Jossingfjord a few months before the occupation of Norway and freed a number of British prisoners being held on board. Johannes Jakobsen had a picture of the Altmark, and gave it to Firestone.
The north wind howled and swirled around the landscape and into the shed. The Canadians and the Norwegian tried to stuff cracks in the wall with a newspaper they had found tossed in a corner. For once, the Nazi-controlled Norwegian press had come in handy. As always, they tried to share equally, and rotated time on the four bunks.
At night they were so excited and anxious that they were not able to sleep for long, but walked around outside the shed as long as there were no boats nearby. They had not eaten for a while and were both thirsty and hungry, but they had no food. The endless hours passed slowly. Every time they heard the sound of a boat motor they hid and hoped it was the boat that was coming to pick them up, but each time they were disappointed.
Sverre Østervoll had intended to bring them food that night, but the enemy patrols on the fjords were too intense. There was no way to get through, not even to relay the coded message he had received that the arrival of the boat from Shetland was postponed.
Slowly the night turned into day, and the men on Kjøpmannsholmen knew they would have to spend another day in the shed. Wehrmacht Marine patrol units headed right past them, some going north to Korsfjord and others headed south to Selbjørnsfjorden. Through cracks in the wall, the seven watched both the German patrols and locals from Austevoll who were out fishing in small boats. Once a patrol-boat went past at full speed, sending waves high up over the rocks.
Sometimes patrol-boats swung in to land at several of the neighbouring islands, and the men in the shed began to wonder what would happen if one of the patrol-boats docked at the island they were hiding on. After darkness had again finally set in, they could venture out and stretch their legs.
They had passed the first day on the island with small-talk, but the conversation had taken a more serious turn on the second day. They pondered what they would do if no one appeared on the third day either. They were in the same situation they had been in while they waited in the woods at Bjørnatrynet – no matter what happened they had no choice but to stay where they were. As they grew hungrier and hungrier, they thought of Marta Bruarøy and how she had brought them the basket of waffles and eggs.
Near the shed was a small pool of water. Maurice Neil wanted to quench his thirst, and filled a flask with water and treated it with water purifying tablets before drinking. It worked well for him, but two of the others who did the same became sick and were retching for hours afterward.
Thirst and hunger and the stench from the barn kept them awake most of the second night. They needed sleep, but also wanted to stay awake in case someone came to get them. They weather showed no signs of improvement. To the contrary, the wind continued to blast the island, with only short intervals of calm, and the men huddled in the shed were very, very cold.
At Kjøpmannsholmen, Østervoll told them they had to stay out of sight in a shed near where they were put ashor and that he would come back at night to take them to the rendezvous with the boat that would take them to Shetland and freedom. Because of the code message about meatballs, he thought that it would not be too long to wait. The six Canadians and Johannes Jakobsen went into the shed.
The dirty, drafty two-room shed had been part of an old quarrying operation on he island. One room had bunks, a table and a small window that looked out onto the shipping lanes. The other had been used as a barn and still smelled of sheep. The Canadians were not bothered at all by its condition – they would soon be headed home.
Johannes Jakobsen was dressed in several layers of clothing. When it became too hot for him indoors, he took off the top few layers. Handmade repairs showed that he took care of his own wardrobe. In his striking mixture of languages, he made it clear that he had been hiding from the Germans for some time and had to go to England to find shelter.
The six Canadians did what they could so that the Norwegian would not feel left out, but they needn’t have worried about a gregarious sailor who had spent time with people of many nationalities. He had sailed the world and in Norway had provided intelligence to Allied agents. He had even been on board the Altmark, the German supply ship that became internationally known when forces from the British destroyer HMS Cossack boarded it in Jossingfjord a few months before the occupation of Norway and freed a number of British prisoners being held on board. Johannes Jakobsen had a picture of the Altmark, and gave it to Firestone.
The north wind howled and swirled around the landscape and into the shed. The Canadians and the Norwegian tried to stuff cracks in the wall with a newspaper they had found tossed in a corner. For once, the Nazi-controlled Norwegian press had come in handy. As always, they tried to share equally, and rotated time on the four bunks.
At night they were so excited and anxious that they were not able to sleep for long, but walked around outside the shed as long as there were no boats nearby. They had not eaten for a while and were both thirsty and hungry, but they had no food. The endless hours passed slowly. Every time they heard the sound of a boat motor they hid and hoped it was the boat that was coming to pick them up, but each time they were disappointed.
Sverre Østervoll had intended to bring them food that night, but the enemy patrols on the fjords were too intense. There was no way to get through, not even to relay the coded message he had received that the arrival of the boat from Shetland was postponed.
Slowly the night turned into day, and the men on Kjøpmannsholmen knew they would have to spend another day in the shed. Wehrmacht Marine patrol units headed right past them, some going north to Korsfjord and others headed south to Selbjørnsfjorden. Through cracks in the wall, the seven watched both the German patrols and locals from Austevoll who were out fishing in small boats. Once a patrol-boat went past at full speed, sending waves high up over the rocks.
Sometimes patrol-boats swung in to land at several of the neighbouring islands, and the men in the shed began to wonder what would happen if one of the patrol-boats docked at the island they were hiding on. After darkness had again finally set in, they could venture out and stretch their legs.
They had passed the first day on the island with small-talk, but the conversation had taken a more serious turn on the second day. They pondered what they would do if no one appeared on the third day either. They were in the same situation they had been in while they waited in the woods at Bjørnatrynet – no matter what happened they had no choice but to stay where they were. As they grew hungrier and hungrier, they thought of Marta Bruarøy and how she had brought them the basket of waffles and eggs.
Near the shed was a small pool of water. Maurice Neil wanted to quench his thirst, and filled a flask with water and treated it with water purifying tablets before drinking. It worked well for him, but two of the others who did the same became sick and were retching for hours afterward.
Thirst and hunger and the stench from the barn kept them awake most of the second night. They needed sleep, but also wanted to stay awake in case someone came to get them. They weather showed no signs of improvement. To the contrary, the wind continued to blast the island, with only short intervals of calm, and the men huddled in the shed were very, very cold.