Sunday, October 1, 1944
Einar Evensen and Torvald Jakobsen were to take the Canadians to Lønningdal in a 21-foot boat that Evensen had. It was a type commonly in the area and they hoped it would not attract attention. The trip would be about 14 or 15 nautical miles.
Einar Evensen's 21-Foot Boat
The move would be on a Sunday, which Evensen and Jakobsen thought was good timing. They would be going near the u-boat base at Hatvik. Fifteen to twenty submarines and other naval vessels set out from Hatvik on most days, but usually there were far fewer on Sundays.
The almanac for October 1 confirms that it was a glorious day in the islands, with a clear sky and calm sea. It was tuna-fishing season in Bjørnafjord. They used harpoons and rifles, and the Evensen and his friends had rigged a scaffold on the bow. The Germans rarely stopped boats that were obviously tuna fishing, especially not on Sundays. Still, the idea of the trip gave them pause. It was a very small boat to carry eight adults that distance.
Before the Canadians headed to the woods that morning, they had very carefully cleaned up the boathouse, leaving it exactly as it had been the night they moved in. However, they knew that if the German who was using the boathouse started to suspect that the boathouse had been used, his Norwegian friend who supplied him with crab and lobster would tell him that he had visited and listened to the radio – but not the English broadcasts.
Jakobsen and Evensen led them through the forest for a kilometre and brought them to a small dock where they had moored the boat. It had a windshield and a detachable canvas roof. Five of the aircrew lay flat on the floor under the roof, while Firestone, who with his red hair could pass for a Norwegian, sat in full view with the boat's crew. He had put on a fisherman's well-worn pants and shirt outside his air force uniform. The five lay practically on top of each other, and a tarp was stretched over them.
Evensen started the engine, a small diesel, and headed out from the pier. He was pleased that they had good weather. It was hard enough in the perfect weather for the five on the floor in the vibrating boat; it would have been miserable in bad weather. They swung west around Rottingatangane staying a few cable-lengths from the shore. They kept an eye on the artillery positions and also on the few patrol boats that were visible. Evensen saw that someone watching them with binoculars from a patrol boat, but only for a few seconds. A ferry was speeding along the coast heading in the opposite direction, but other than that there was nothing but open fjord to the east.
Firestone saw the mountains that appeared like a green wreath against the blue sky. Here and there, fall colours were starting to appear on the hillsides. In the distance in the east, there was a white streak against the sky – the Folgefonni glacier that served as a navigation point. It was the same glacier Biddle and Death had glimpsed through a break in the clouds in the minutes before landing.
Magnus K. Røttingen and a fellow townsman, Sigvald Røttingen [25], sat in a motorboat not far from Bjørnatrynet. To a casual observer, they were just out there fishing, as indeed they were doing. However, their eyes were on Evensen's boat as it rounded the southern tip of Røttingen and set out in the open waters of Bjørnafjord. They were aware that it didn't take much to attract the German's attention, so if the Germans showwed any sign of interest in Evensen's boat, Magnus and Sigvald would do something to attract attention to themselves and away from Evensen and the aircrew.
Taking the shortest route over the open fjord, Evensen steered the boat towards a point of land to the east in the neighbouring kommune of Fusa. They were at the midway point of the journey and well past potential help from Magnus and Sigvald when a patrol boat emerged from a group of islands. Evensen and the others had not seen it lurking in between the islands, and it was on a straight course towards them, with white bow waves extending out like two wings. Evensen had only one option – to maintain course and proceed as if nothing were happening. When the patrol boat had approached to within about five hundred meters, Evensen, Jakobsen and Firestone realized that the boats were on a collision course.
Jakobsen rushed to the bow and pointed excitedly towards the sea as if he could see something big. Both he and Evensen knew that the only card left in the deck was deception. Evensen throttled down and pointed the bow on a line more directly at the patrol boat, appearing as if he would continue to maintain his course. He was aware that the sailors could see that Evensen's boat was low in the water and therefore carrying a full load. He noticed that more men had come up to the bridge of the patrol boat. When they were barely two hundred yards apart, the patrol boat suddenly changed course and headed to the base at Nord-Reksteren. The five under the tarpaulin breathed fuel fumes and the smell of fish. They had no idea of what was going on. Only when they landed did they learn about the patrol boat.
Fusafjord, which branches off of Bjørnafjord, is three nautical miles wide at its entrance, but east of Hatvik narrows down to half that width. Evensen slowed and stopped at a hidden cove on the Fusa side of the fjord opposite Hatvik. The Canadians were landed on the shore of the cove. Evensen and Jakobsen gestured for the Canadians to wait there, and then disappeared into the woods.
By that time it was early afternoon, the day was still bright and clear, but little clouds were starting to appear in the southwest. The aircrew had binoculars that Evensen had left them. They hid themselves in the foliage a short distance from the boat and carefully surveyed the fjord. On the north side of the fjord there were naval vessels close to the steep shore so as to be less visible from the air. They had trees and shrubs on the wheelhouse roofs and on deck as camouflage.
Evensen and Jakobsen went to a nearby house to ask if there was a telephone, which was not common in homes at that time. A woman with a small child hanging on her skirts came out when they knocked. Luckily, there was a phone at the home. “We came from Os and are on a trip into the fjord, but I have to make a phone call,” said Evensen.
She invited him into the hallway were the phone was while Jakobsen waited outside. Evensen dialed the number of one of his contacts, who answered immediately. “I'm on my way by Hatvik, and I've got a little problem with my motor,” Evensen said, “So even though it is Sunday, can I swing over so you can take a look at it?”
“Of course you can come,” came the response from the other end. It was a signal that every thing was clear in Lønningdal.
When Evensen paid for the loan of the phone, the woman looked questioningly at him. “A plane that made an emergency landing there in Os,” she said. It must have been the same plane she and her husband saw in the early morning four or five days ago, it had come in not many meters over the top of their house. It was so close that her husband thought he could see the silhouette of the pilot. The whole family headed toward the basement because they were sure it was going to bomb Hatvik, but suddenly it turned and headed back in the other direction. She and her husband talked about it because it was unusual – it didn't behave like other aircraft they had seen. She asked Evensen if he had any idea what happened to the crew of the plane.
Evensen replied that he knew that they had made it safely away from the landing site, as far as the people there could tell, but no one had seen them since then. The Germans looked high and low, but apparently had not found any traces of them. It was still a mystery. Evensen believed that they had somehow obtained a boat and set off westward across the sea. There were so many things that could happen in times like these. He mentioned the rumour that the crew of the plane had been picked up by a submarine.
Evensen apologized for his intrusion and he and Jakobsen headed back to the Canadians. Along the way, Evensen wondered aloud whether the woman had guessed what he was doing, because he thought she had seen some doubt in her expression. “It would be better if you didn't look so guilty,” said Jakobsen, knowing that both of them had been brought up to never tell lies.
While traveling in the boat, the Norwegians had not been very communicative, even though both normally did a reasonable job of keeping the conversation going. One of the Canadians still had the dictionary. After the Norwegians returned and they were all heading to the boat again, Evensen asked, using the dictionary, how many guns and how much ammunition they had on board their plane. They replied that there were four machine guns in the tail and one in the nose, with a total of 20,000 rounds of ammunition. The Canadians understood that Evensen was upset to learn that they had to dump all those assets into the sea to keep the plane in the air, although he realized that they didn't have any other options. For Evensen, each round represented a German who could be removed from Norwegian soil. They were still on this subject as they boarded the boat. They started the engine, pulled in the lines, and headed back out from the shore.
Evensen and Jakobsen had to constantly behave as if they had nothing to hide, so they set a course that took them only a few hundred meters from the Hatvik base. When they were just past the base, they had to slow and change course when an a large u-boat suddenly broke surface in front of them, likely on its way back to base after a long cruise. A door opened on and German sailors emerged onto the foredeck.
Even the Canadians under the tarpaulin could see the long hull of the u-boat, looking out from under the edge of the tarp. They had never been so close to such a prime bombing target.
Evensen turned the boat and steered inland towards Samnangerfjord. As they approached the entrance to that fjord, he turned to port and continued another nautical mile. Finally, he slowed the boat and headed in to land.
The Canadians wondered what would happen next. But they understood that they were at their destination and would soon be meeting others. They were very happy to be able to go ashore and stretch their legs.
The almanac for October 1 confirms that it was a glorious day in the islands, with a clear sky and calm sea. It was tuna-fishing season in Bjørnafjord. They used harpoons and rifles, and the Evensen and his friends had rigged a scaffold on the bow. The Germans rarely stopped boats that were obviously tuna fishing, especially not on Sundays. Still, the idea of the trip gave them pause. It was a very small boat to carry eight adults that distance.
Before the Canadians headed to the woods that morning, they had very carefully cleaned up the boathouse, leaving it exactly as it had been the night they moved in. However, they knew that if the German who was using the boathouse started to suspect that the boathouse had been used, his Norwegian friend who supplied him with crab and lobster would tell him that he had visited and listened to the radio – but not the English broadcasts.
Jakobsen and Evensen led them through the forest for a kilometre and brought them to a small dock where they had moored the boat. It had a windshield and a detachable canvas roof. Five of the aircrew lay flat on the floor under the roof, while Firestone, who with his red hair could pass for a Norwegian, sat in full view with the boat's crew. He had put on a fisherman's well-worn pants and shirt outside his air force uniform. The five lay practically on top of each other, and a tarp was stretched over them.
Evensen started the engine, a small diesel, and headed out from the pier. He was pleased that they had good weather. It was hard enough in the perfect weather for the five on the floor in the vibrating boat; it would have been miserable in bad weather. They swung west around Rottingatangane staying a few cable-lengths from the shore. They kept an eye on the artillery positions and also on the few patrol boats that were visible. Evensen saw that someone watching them with binoculars from a patrol boat, but only for a few seconds. A ferry was speeding along the coast heading in the opposite direction, but other than that there was nothing but open fjord to the east.
Firestone saw the mountains that appeared like a green wreath against the blue sky. Here and there, fall colours were starting to appear on the hillsides. In the distance in the east, there was a white streak against the sky – the Folgefonni glacier that served as a navigation point. It was the same glacier Biddle and Death had glimpsed through a break in the clouds in the minutes before landing.
Magnus K. Røttingen and a fellow townsman, Sigvald Røttingen [25], sat in a motorboat not far from Bjørnatrynet. To a casual observer, they were just out there fishing, as indeed they were doing. However, their eyes were on Evensen's boat as it rounded the southern tip of Røttingen and set out in the open waters of Bjørnafjord. They were aware that it didn't take much to attract the German's attention, so if the Germans showwed any sign of interest in Evensen's boat, Magnus and Sigvald would do something to attract attention to themselves and away from Evensen and the aircrew.
Taking the shortest route over the open fjord, Evensen steered the boat towards a point of land to the east in the neighbouring kommune of Fusa. They were at the midway point of the journey and well past potential help from Magnus and Sigvald when a patrol boat emerged from a group of islands. Evensen and the others had not seen it lurking in between the islands, and it was on a straight course towards them, with white bow waves extending out like two wings. Evensen had only one option – to maintain course and proceed as if nothing were happening. When the patrol boat had approached to within about five hundred meters, Evensen, Jakobsen and Firestone realized that the boats were on a collision course.
Jakobsen rushed to the bow and pointed excitedly towards the sea as if he could see something big. Both he and Evensen knew that the only card left in the deck was deception. Evensen throttled down and pointed the bow on a line more directly at the patrol boat, appearing as if he would continue to maintain his course. He was aware that the sailors could see that Evensen's boat was low in the water and therefore carrying a full load. He noticed that more men had come up to the bridge of the patrol boat. When they were barely two hundred yards apart, the patrol boat suddenly changed course and headed to the base at Nord-Reksteren. The five under the tarpaulin breathed fuel fumes and the smell of fish. They had no idea of what was going on. Only when they landed did they learn about the patrol boat.
Fusafjord, which branches off of Bjørnafjord, is three nautical miles wide at its entrance, but east of Hatvik narrows down to half that width. Evensen slowed and stopped at a hidden cove on the Fusa side of the fjord opposite Hatvik. The Canadians were landed on the shore of the cove. Evensen and Jakobsen gestured for the Canadians to wait there, and then disappeared into the woods.
By that time it was early afternoon, the day was still bright and clear, but little clouds were starting to appear in the southwest. The aircrew had binoculars that Evensen had left them. They hid themselves in the foliage a short distance from the boat and carefully surveyed the fjord. On the north side of the fjord there were naval vessels close to the steep shore so as to be less visible from the air. They had trees and shrubs on the wheelhouse roofs and on deck as camouflage.
Evensen and Jakobsen went to a nearby house to ask if there was a telephone, which was not common in homes at that time. A woman with a small child hanging on her skirts came out when they knocked. Luckily, there was a phone at the home. “We came from Os and are on a trip into the fjord, but I have to make a phone call,” said Evensen.
She invited him into the hallway were the phone was while Jakobsen waited outside. Evensen dialed the number of one of his contacts, who answered immediately. “I'm on my way by Hatvik, and I've got a little problem with my motor,” Evensen said, “So even though it is Sunday, can I swing over so you can take a look at it?”
“Of course you can come,” came the response from the other end. It was a signal that every thing was clear in Lønningdal.
When Evensen paid for the loan of the phone, the woman looked questioningly at him. “A plane that made an emergency landing there in Os,” she said. It must have been the same plane she and her husband saw in the early morning four or five days ago, it had come in not many meters over the top of their house. It was so close that her husband thought he could see the silhouette of the pilot. The whole family headed toward the basement because they were sure it was going to bomb Hatvik, but suddenly it turned and headed back in the other direction. She and her husband talked about it because it was unusual – it didn't behave like other aircraft they had seen. She asked Evensen if he had any idea what happened to the crew of the plane.
Evensen replied that he knew that they had made it safely away from the landing site, as far as the people there could tell, but no one had seen them since then. The Germans looked high and low, but apparently had not found any traces of them. It was still a mystery. Evensen believed that they had somehow obtained a boat and set off westward across the sea. There were so many things that could happen in times like these. He mentioned the rumour that the crew of the plane had been picked up by a submarine.
Evensen apologized for his intrusion and he and Jakobsen headed back to the Canadians. Along the way, Evensen wondered aloud whether the woman had guessed what he was doing, because he thought she had seen some doubt in her expression. “It would be better if you didn't look so guilty,” said Jakobsen, knowing that both of them had been brought up to never tell lies.
While traveling in the boat, the Norwegians had not been very communicative, even though both normally did a reasonable job of keeping the conversation going. One of the Canadians still had the dictionary. After the Norwegians returned and they were all heading to the boat again, Evensen asked, using the dictionary, how many guns and how much ammunition they had on board their plane. They replied that there were four machine guns in the tail and one in the nose, with a total of 20,000 rounds of ammunition. The Canadians understood that Evensen was upset to learn that they had to dump all those assets into the sea to keep the plane in the air, although he realized that they didn't have any other options. For Evensen, each round represented a German who could be removed from Norwegian soil. They were still on this subject as they boarded the boat. They started the engine, pulled in the lines, and headed back out from the shore.
Evensen and Jakobsen had to constantly behave as if they had nothing to hide, so they set a course that took them only a few hundred meters from the Hatvik base. When they were just past the base, they had to slow and change course when an a large u-boat suddenly broke surface in front of them, likely on its way back to base after a long cruise. A door opened on and German sailors emerged onto the foredeck.
Even the Canadians under the tarpaulin could see the long hull of the u-boat, looking out from under the edge of the tarp. They had never been so close to such a prime bombing target.
Evensen turned the boat and steered inland towards Samnangerfjord. As they approached the entrance to that fjord, he turned to port and continued another nautical mile. Finally, he slowed the boat and headed in to land.
The Canadians wondered what would happen next. But they understood that they were at their destination and would soon be meeting others. They were very happy to be able to go ashore and stretch their legs.