September 26, 1944 Afternoon and Evening
After Evensen spoke with Hauge, he went to talk with the same friends that had accompanied him on the fruitless journey to Austevoll, and another one of their group, Hans H. Holmefjord. All were eager to to help rescue the Allied aircrew.
“I wouldn't miss it,” said Jakobsen, who was the oldest.
“Finally something real to do,” commented Holmefjord.
Røttingen, who worked at a nearby oyster farm, just nodded quietly.
“This time, don't forget your passport,” Evensen reminded him.
They debated the chances of success for their various options and discussed all the buildings where it might be safe to hide the crew until the commotion died down. One of them suggested a coastal tramp steamer that was at anchor in need of major repairs, but after a long discussion, this idea was voted down 3-1. They thought that boats would top priorities for the German search.
Then one of them had an idea that seemed to make more sense the more they discussed it. Milorg groups had previously used a boathouse on Strøno Island for training and weapons instruction. It had a couple of bunks. It was across a narrow fjord from the German camp at Rottingatangane.
A Getreiter (German corporal) had taken over the building, but a few days earlier he had gone to Germany on leave. The corporal had been in Norway long enough that he could make himself understood. A Norwegian had befriended the corporal, giving him salmon and lobster. Before going on leave, the corporal gave the key to the cottage to the Norwegian, who was a member of Evensen's underground unit.
“You can use the radio, so long as you don't listen to England, and make sure no one uses the main house while I'm in Hamburg,” he had said. He would be away for a month.
They figured the place might usable for a few days, because the Germans probably would not be too interested in investigating a building that had been commandeered by one of their own. Another positive factor was that the German activities in the surrounding woods had lessened in the last few months.
However, their task was awkward. English had not been on the curriculum when they were in school, and they had not learned any since. Jakobsen thought of Nils Røttingen, a grey-haired Norwegian-American who lived at Oyane. Nils Røttingen complained constantly about his fate. He had been on a visit to Norway just before the occupation and now could not return until the Germans were chased into the sea. The Islanders knew that Nils Røttingen referred to the Germans as bandits and scoundrels and therefore thought that there was no risk in involving him.
The next question was whether they should use one motorboat or two rowboats. The motorboat of course was faster, but there was a greater chance it would be discovered and stopped. The deciding factor in favour of rowboats was that they were quieter and people in a rowboat could hear things, but in a motorboat you can't hear much other than your own motor.
Shielded by a warehouse, they prepared to set out that evening, with fishing gear clearly displayed in their boats. They wound rags around their oars to muffle them so they wouldn't creak in the oarlocks. A young boy suddenly appeared and asked what the rags were for. Jakobsen explained that the fish had been so frightened by all the shooting and noise today, that they were scared by the slightest noise. The boy was interested in the idea and went to talk about with his father because the two of them had been out all evening and hadn't got even the slightest nibble.
It remained overcast and drizzling into the evening. Overcast and drizzle could be annoying when it lasted a week or two in a row, but now it was an answer to a prayer.
At nine o'clock were finally ready to go. They had Oselver-type rowboats, of a type that dated back to long before the time that Harald FairHair had led his greybeards in the battle of Hafrsfjord. It has a reputation for being so easy to row that you could row it with a spoon.
Evensen rowed one of the boats and Jakobsen the second and larger boat. The two of them had the reputation of being the most powerful rowers in the Islands. When they went out in racing sculls and rowed along the shore pulling on the oars with all their force, they moved so fast that some motorboats couldn't pass them.
The sea was the main road here. People used boats to visit neighbours or to go to the shops in Vedholmen, and fished all the time. The two boats kept their distance from each other, as they had planned, so that the Germans would not “smell a convoy.”
Wearing pre-war sou'westers, the four young Norwegians and the older Norwegian-American set out from shore and headed to a small island at the edge of Bjørnafjord. Along the way the only living thing they saw was a flock of birds over the capes. The water was smooth for a while, but, as usual, a cool wind soon started blowing inland from the southwest and stirred up the surface of the sea.
One of the rowboats stopped at an inlet on an island. In the other, Jakobsen and Nils Røttingen rowed in the remaining five hundred meters to Bjørnatrynet.
The persistent rain had soaked the clothing of the crew who were huddled together but still half-exposed to the rain. Gordon Biddle had recovered. While it had been light, crows and other birds had flown over the treetops, but now that it was dark no birds were flying. There was absolutely no improvement in the weather. To the contrary, it began to hail while a cold wind whistled through the woods. They froze more than before, but did not slap themselves or jump around because they did not dare make noise. They stood silently in the dark. They all startled when they heard the sounds of people approaching them.
It was “only” Ingeborg Bjørnen, accompanied by Johannes Ferstadvoll. She asked them to follow immediately. The two Norwegians went ahead, and the Canadians followed in single file. They did not follow a path, but just wound their way among the trees and rocks, and the rain and darkness made progress difficult. They tried to stay close to each other and avoid making noise, but that was hard over the slippery rocks. One of them caught a foot in a root and went sprawling.
A half-hour later they took a two-minute rest at a steep west-facing slope that led down to the sea. They could hear waves rippling against the shore. Ingeborg Bjørnen whispered that they were going down there, but they had to be careful because patrols boats often came close into shore. From time to time strong spotlights would sweep along the shore. They all huddled down near a flat rock. Ingeborg Bjørnen told them that this is where they would be picked up.
The crew members became more and more nervous, not least because two navy boats passed by barely a hundred meters away every few minutes. There was no doubt that the German commander had been telling the truth when he told Ingeborg Bjørnen that the entire peninsula was blockaded. Visibility increased over the fjord for a moment and they could see the outline of a patrol boat that crossed back and forth nearby before another squall again reduced visibility.
But the German patrols seemed to be less frequent and after an hour had passed and no naval vessels or patrols boats had been seen for a while, a rowboat appeared out of the rain. Ingeborg Bjørnen saw it first. It came up to the land as quietly as a duck and stopped with the starboard side against the shore. A man stood up in the stern and in a hushed voice said in English:
“Please come on board, boys.”
Johannes Ferstadvoll had not said a word all night. Despite his quiet, the Canadians did not forget to thank both Ingeborg Bjørnen and him for everything they had done for them. The Canadians then boarded the rowboat one by one. One was shown to the bow, another to the stern. Two of the Canadians sat on a bench close to the rower, and the remaining two sat on a bench in the back near the man who had invited them on board. With eight grown men on board, the rowboat settled low in the water.
The rower waited quietly at the oars while everyone listened hard. There was no sound other than the waves, and no boats in view. The rower put the oars in the water and pulled. The crew members waved to their two guides on land, who waved back at the rowboat until they were engulfed by darkness.
The guides returned to their homes. The German soldiers were so busy with their preparations that they both Ingeborg Bjørnen and Ferstadvoll managed to sneak unnoticed into their homes.
After Evensen spoke with Hauge, he went to talk with the same friends that had accompanied him on the fruitless journey to Austevoll, and another one of their group, Hans H. Holmefjord. All were eager to to help rescue the Allied aircrew.
“I wouldn't miss it,” said Jakobsen, who was the oldest.
“Finally something real to do,” commented Holmefjord.
Røttingen, who worked at a nearby oyster farm, just nodded quietly.
“This time, don't forget your passport,” Evensen reminded him.
They debated the chances of success for their various options and discussed all the buildings where it might be safe to hide the crew until the commotion died down. One of them suggested a coastal tramp steamer that was at anchor in need of major repairs, but after a long discussion, this idea was voted down 3-1. They thought that boats would top priorities for the German search.
Then one of them had an idea that seemed to make more sense the more they discussed it. Milorg groups had previously used a boathouse on Strøno Island for training and weapons instruction. It had a couple of bunks. It was across a narrow fjord from the German camp at Rottingatangane.
A Getreiter (German corporal) had taken over the building, but a few days earlier he had gone to Germany on leave. The corporal had been in Norway long enough that he could make himself understood. A Norwegian had befriended the corporal, giving him salmon and lobster. Before going on leave, the corporal gave the key to the cottage to the Norwegian, who was a member of Evensen's underground unit.
“You can use the radio, so long as you don't listen to England, and make sure no one uses the main house while I'm in Hamburg,” he had said. He would be away for a month.
They figured the place might usable for a few days, because the Germans probably would not be too interested in investigating a building that had been commandeered by one of their own. Another positive factor was that the German activities in the surrounding woods had lessened in the last few months.
However, their task was awkward. English had not been on the curriculum when they were in school, and they had not learned any since. Jakobsen thought of Nils Røttingen, a grey-haired Norwegian-American who lived at Oyane. Nils Røttingen complained constantly about his fate. He had been on a visit to Norway just before the occupation and now could not return until the Germans were chased into the sea. The Islanders knew that Nils Røttingen referred to the Germans as bandits and scoundrels and therefore thought that there was no risk in involving him.
The next question was whether they should use one motorboat or two rowboats. The motorboat of course was faster, but there was a greater chance it would be discovered and stopped. The deciding factor in favour of rowboats was that they were quieter and people in a rowboat could hear things, but in a motorboat you can't hear much other than your own motor.
Shielded by a warehouse, they prepared to set out that evening, with fishing gear clearly displayed in their boats. They wound rags around their oars to muffle them so they wouldn't creak in the oarlocks. A young boy suddenly appeared and asked what the rags were for. Jakobsen explained that the fish had been so frightened by all the shooting and noise today, that they were scared by the slightest noise. The boy was interested in the idea and went to talk about with his father because the two of them had been out all evening and hadn't got even the slightest nibble.
It remained overcast and drizzling into the evening. Overcast and drizzle could be annoying when it lasted a week or two in a row, but now it was an answer to a prayer.
At nine o'clock were finally ready to go. They had Oselver-type rowboats, of a type that dated back to long before the time that Harald FairHair had led his greybeards in the battle of Hafrsfjord. It has a reputation for being so easy to row that you could row it with a spoon.
Evensen rowed one of the boats and Jakobsen the second and larger boat. The two of them had the reputation of being the most powerful rowers in the Islands. When they went out in racing sculls and rowed along the shore pulling on the oars with all their force, they moved so fast that some motorboats couldn't pass them.
The sea was the main road here. People used boats to visit neighbours or to go to the shops in Vedholmen, and fished all the time. The two boats kept their distance from each other, as they had planned, so that the Germans would not “smell a convoy.”
Wearing pre-war sou'westers, the four young Norwegians and the older Norwegian-American set out from shore and headed to a small island at the edge of Bjørnafjord. Along the way the only living thing they saw was a flock of birds over the capes. The water was smooth for a while, but, as usual, a cool wind soon started blowing inland from the southwest and stirred up the surface of the sea.
One of the rowboats stopped at an inlet on an island. In the other, Jakobsen and Nils Røttingen rowed in the remaining five hundred meters to Bjørnatrynet.
The persistent rain had soaked the clothing of the crew who were huddled together but still half-exposed to the rain. Gordon Biddle had recovered. While it had been light, crows and other birds had flown over the treetops, but now that it was dark no birds were flying. There was absolutely no improvement in the weather. To the contrary, it began to hail while a cold wind whistled through the woods. They froze more than before, but did not slap themselves or jump around because they did not dare make noise. They stood silently in the dark. They all startled when they heard the sounds of people approaching them.
It was “only” Ingeborg Bjørnen, accompanied by Johannes Ferstadvoll. She asked them to follow immediately. The two Norwegians went ahead, and the Canadians followed in single file. They did not follow a path, but just wound their way among the trees and rocks, and the rain and darkness made progress difficult. They tried to stay close to each other and avoid making noise, but that was hard over the slippery rocks. One of them caught a foot in a root and went sprawling.
A half-hour later they took a two-minute rest at a steep west-facing slope that led down to the sea. They could hear waves rippling against the shore. Ingeborg Bjørnen whispered that they were going down there, but they had to be careful because patrols boats often came close into shore. From time to time strong spotlights would sweep along the shore. They all huddled down near a flat rock. Ingeborg Bjørnen told them that this is where they would be picked up.
The crew members became more and more nervous, not least because two navy boats passed by barely a hundred meters away every few minutes. There was no doubt that the German commander had been telling the truth when he told Ingeborg Bjørnen that the entire peninsula was blockaded. Visibility increased over the fjord for a moment and they could see the outline of a patrol boat that crossed back and forth nearby before another squall again reduced visibility.
But the German patrols seemed to be less frequent and after an hour had passed and no naval vessels or patrols boats had been seen for a while, a rowboat appeared out of the rain. Ingeborg Bjørnen saw it first. It came up to the land as quietly as a duck and stopped with the starboard side against the shore. A man stood up in the stern and in a hushed voice said in English:
“Please come on board, boys.”
Johannes Ferstadvoll had not said a word all night. Despite his quiet, the Canadians did not forget to thank both Ingeborg Bjørnen and him for everything they had done for them. The Canadians then boarded the rowboat one by one. One was shown to the bow, another to the stern. Two of the Canadians sat on a bench close to the rower, and the remaining two sat on a bench in the back near the man who had invited them on board. With eight grown men on board, the rowboat settled low in the water.
The rower waited quietly at the oars while everyone listened hard. There was no sound other than the waves, and no boats in view. The rower put the oars in the water and pulled. The crew members waved to their two guides on land, who waved back at the rowboat until they were engulfed by darkness.
The guides returned to their homes. The German soldiers were so busy with their preparations that they both Ingeborg Bjørnen and Ferstadvoll managed to sneak unnoticed into their homes.