This is the next-to-last segment of the Russellville author’s Christmas serial about the connection between the start of World War II in Norway and Russellville. The first five parts are under November and December Guest Articles.
Giske December 1942
Rolf slipped silently across the inky landscape on his way to a new rendezvous.
The old meeting place, the cabin near the graveyard, had mysteriously burned two weeks previously. Rolf supposed the Nazis had destroyed it on purpose for security reasons, but Kobold later told him, “I burned the old place. Once when I checked on it, I saw a German stationed there. I realized that they may be on to us; so I waited in hiding until the German left, then I burned the place. I relit a fire that the soldier had to make it look like he had destroyed the cabin himself.”
The new place was a small cove, so Rolf reckoned that the Jossings would be arriving by boat. And, as he supposed, he soon heard the soft splashes of padded oars. The night was moonless, and he could hardly make out the shapes of the men in the boat.
The men, there were five of them this time, remained in the boat until Rolf sounded the cry of a skua, a type of sea bird. Had any Nazis been about and had they been knowledgeable about the ways of the seashore, they would have known that skuas did not go about by night.
Kraken carefully waded ashore and whispered, “Burdot?”
“Aye?”
“Seen anything about?”
“Just a late flying skua.”
Kraken made a motion toward the boat, and two more dark figures disembarked, reached back into the boat, and removed a large parcel, bringing it with them when they waded up. Rolf recognized them although their faces were blackened as Wasa and Jarl.
The men placed the parcel at Rolf’s feet. Kraken explained, “We do not know what we have here; but the Captain of the Yalderoy bus said that to deliver this package expressly to you. It doesn’t have your name on it, of course, only a Red Cross number; but it’s for you just the same.”
Rolf was taken aback for a moment; but anything seemed possible. He realized that, somehow, his letter had gotten to his brother and this package was help from his brother in America.
“What is our objective tonight?” Rolf asked.
“Oh, for you…..take your package and return to your home. It’s hefty, but I think you can manage it.”
“But won’t I be needed?”
Kraken indicated the boat. “We have a new member…Rya. We feel like we can trust him, but we must be cautious. I did not let him some ashore, so that he could not get a good look at you. There may be some very important portage there for you, and the less Rya knows….the less we know…the better. The Captain said that we need not know the contents, and so we don’t.”
A brief tweet tweet came from the boat. “We must be off.”
“When will we meet again?”
“Christmas night, an hour after dark. Do you have the weapon I brought you last month?”
“Yes. I have it well hidden.”
“Bring it Christmas. We might have a surprise for the Nazis. The time has come for us to take a harsher stand.”
Rolf reached out a hand to Kraken. “I understand.”
When Rolf made the predetermined knock on his cottage door, Astrid opened it immediately. She was surprised to see him return so early.
“Are the children a-bed?”
“No. Dag and Ivar have come in from mending their nets. Sofiel and Thea are playing jacks before the fire.”
“Good. I think I have a surprise for all of you.” He dragged the heavy parcel inside.
After Astrid had made sure the door was secure, she joined her husband and children in the kitchen. She didn’t have to worry about the windows because they had all been blackened out on orders of the Germans.Taking a meat knife from cupboard, Rolf split the covering off a large metallic cylinder “Get me a pry bar,” he called to Ivar.
“What could this possibly be?” his wife questioned.
“Somehow, I’m thinking it’s a miracle. I’m thinking that my brother has gotten the help we asked him for…..and right at Christmas, too.”
“Oh, I hope so,” his wife breathed a sigh. “I was beginning to think it would be the bleakest Christmas we have ever celebrated.
It was to be a Christmas the little family would always remember, for when the cylinder was opened and an inventory of its contents made, it was, indeed, as if Kris Kringle had arrived early. With ooohs and aahhs they fingered the packages of sugar, coffee, tea, flour as if they were mirages. The blankets they wrapped around their shoulders to feel the warmth. The boots and jackets brought tears to their eyes.
“We will have to hide all this away,” Father commanded, “and use it sparingly. “Mother can take our old jackets and work these new ones in so that they don’t look so new. The boots can be roughed up; but they won’t be a problem. The Germans are well-booted as it is.”
“I have the perfect hiding place…beneath the cottage,” Mother sang out merrily. “And you can bet your last krone I’ll put these other things away in many portions. Can you believe it? We can have kaffe for frokost these cold mornings and te in the afternoon.”
“And risengrot (a pudding)and fattigmann (fried dough flavored with cinnamon) for Juletide,” Sofiel almost cried.
“These woolen blankets,” Dag observed, taking one up and rubbing his face in it. “will keep us toasty. I almost froze last winter using those paper wrappings.”
“We’ll have to be careful with the blankets,” Father warned. “Our home has been searched twice already, but maybe the Germans have taken everything they want.”
“The problem,” Ivar said, “is…how would we explain these things from America to the Nazis.”
“We’ll make do,” Mother returned, “we always have.”
Juletide morning came forth clear and cold. Earlier snows hugged the island like scenes from American Christmas cards. The little island was, surely, a winter wonderland. Dag came in. He had been checking the boat secured in the boat house. “You know,” he replied, “it seems that the Germans at the lighthouse have been celebrating early. Two out of the three are tipsy from their Schnapps. I stopped and chatted with the younger one, the one called Hans. He told me that the other men would be drunk and asleep by noon.”
“But what about Hans?” Father asked.
“Hans said that he had never developed a taste for liquor. He had only tried it once and got a good headache for his efforts. He said that what he wished for is a nice Christmas dinner like he had gotten at his home in Stuttgart.”
Astrid, who had been listening closely, piped up, “Wouldn’t it be in the true spirit of Christmas to ask this Hans to come to Christmas dinner here?”
“That’s an excellent idea,” Rolf agreed, “but how will we explain the coffee and the cakes.” He laughed. “The klippfisk we needn’t worry about. We have it often enough.”
“Oh,” Thea squealed, “Let’s invite the vesla (little one). He reminds me of a little lost puppy. The other two soldiers boss him around and make fun of him.”
“Then it’s settled,” Rolf laughed. “If Hans will have dinner with us, we will forget for one day that we are enemies.”
When Dag visited the lighthouse and invited Hans to dinner, Hans replied with a hardy, “Ja. Why not. The others are asleep. They have pulled at the bottle too long. They will sleep all afternoon. I will come. I will come for one hour. If I am caught away from my post, I will say that I saw something suspicious along the road.”
When Hans came to dinner, the table had been set; and although Hans kept his rifle propped against his chair, he was harmless enough. He told the family tales about his Christmases before the war and how he missed his own family. “Ja. This is so good of you. Today we will forget the war. You have a nice place here. It is not my fault that we have to take your milk and other items, you know. It is for the Fatherland.”
Rolf told him not to worry his head about it. Then they all joined hands while Rolf prayed over the food. Hans was seated between Thea and Ivar. And as he held Thea’s hand, she blushed because he squeezed it so tightly.
Just as darkness closed the curtain on a wonderful Christmas day, Rolf took his jacket from the peg by the door. Astrid didn’t question him now. She knew that whatever he was doing, he was doing it for the Cause.
“Lock and bar the door after I’ve left. Do not open it for anybody unless you hear my voice.” Then he did a strange thing. He took Astrid into his arms and hugged her tightly. “I love you, Darling. I’ve loved you since the day I spied you on the shore when I first went out on a boat with my father. I shall always love you.”
He kissed her and faded into the night. Astrid heart beat so rapidly that she thought it would burst. She couldn’t hold back the tears. She was glad that all the children were snug in their woolen blankets in bed.
Rolf went to the barn and uncovered the rifle he had been given. It was all black, even the cartridges that he loaded in to it. He chambered one of the bullets, blackened his face with soot, and slipped away to the meeting place.
As he neared the rendezvous point, he stopped and listened. He thought that he heard others sounds, the boot steps of people who didn’t know how to walk quietly. Suddenly, Kobold was his side. Kobold, too, was armed. “Shhh!
We have been betrayed,” he whispered.
“How? Who?”
“The new man…Rya. As soon as the rest of us came ashore and came here, Rya ran off. We wouldn’t have crept away, too; but we couldn’t let you walk into a trap.”
A SHOT RANG OUT! Kobold clasped his chest, the rifle falling from his hand as he slid to the ground.”
Then more shots! Jarl came running up. Stopped. And emptied his rifle into the darkness. “We must go! Two more are down.”
An accordion of shots tuned the darkness. Jarl fell. “Go. Go.” he gasped. Rolf ran, not bothering to do it stealthily. Behind him he could hear more shots being fired. He ran until suddenly a German soldier loomed in front of him, his rifle in his face. “HALT! Was ist das!” the soldier demanded.