Hanna #3
The fog had begun to drift and clear, revealing a scene of carnage in the harbor.
The Norwegian naval ships moored there had been reduced to a tangle of mangled wreckage.
As the oil spilled from them and caught fire, it seemed as though the sea itself was burning.
I was joined by Nina and her parents. Then more townspeople arrived, running toward the sound of the screams coming from the water.
I found Mamma and Liv at the water’s edge, pulling our rowing boat down the beach alongside others to try to get to the survivors.
I pushed Liv aside, instinctively protective. I’d always been the stronger of the two of us. “Fetch blankets from the house,” I told her and Nina. Then I climbed in beside Mamma, and we began to row into the inferno.
The first bodies we passed floated face down, already beyond saving. But then a sailor reached a blackened arm to us, and we pulled him into the boat. The basic bits of first aid we’d learned at our Bluebell meetings seemed hopelessly inadequate in the face of his terrible injuries.
Through chattering teeth, he told us, “There was a German destroyer trying to enter the harbor. They told us to surrender, but we refused. And then the torpedoes struck…”
We rowed back to shore, where the first ambulances had arrived, and Liv and Nina helped him into one as Mamma and I turned the boat round and prepared to go out again.
But what started as a rescue operation quickly turned into the heartrending task of merely collecting bodies.
I don’t think a single Norwegian sailor had escaped the brutal attack unscathed.
It had been like shooting fish in a barrel.
The rest of the day followed in a nightmarish blur.
We were told by Nazi soldiers to stay indoors, so we tried to focus on our tasks around the house, but I couldn’t get the images of the men in the water out of my head, and I was sick with worry for Per.
What had become of him? It was impossible not to run to the windows when we heard the sinister thrum of engines as German warships arrived in the harbor.
That evening, we huddled beside the wireless, hungry for news, but were shocked to learn that the main cities in the southern part of the country had been taken.
The targeting of Narvik had been just one in a series of coordinated attacks that day.
Then, all of a sudden, a broadcast by our mayor was interrupted by a German propaganda message.
“We are happy to inform all Norwegian citizens that Norway is now occupied peacefully in the name of the Führer.”
I looked from Mamma to Liv, feeling helpless rage.
I saw the same emotion written on their faces, too.
There was nothing peaceful about this. Our dreams of avoiding the war lay in wreckage all around us, from the blazing forest of masts in the harbor to the smoldering rubble of our town, where smoke mingled with the fog, casting a dark pall over Narvik.
The message continued: “King Haakon the Seventh and his government have stepped down. The governance of the country will now be undertaken by a new Reichskommissar, who will shortly be appointed, and who will work with Vidkun Quisling and the National Gathering party. In order to ensure an orderly and calm establishment of the new regime, citizens must cooperate with the German administration in their local communities.” The words were delivered without emotion, but a sinister insistence lay beneath them.
The message seemed to be more of a threat than an announcement.
“Quisling!” Mamma’s voice trembled with outrage.
“That ridiculous man, whose party has almost no support whatsoever. How on earth can they be putting him in charge?” She reached out a hand and retuned the wireless, searching for another station.
Through the crackle of static came a sudden voice, urgent but strong.
“This is Troms? calling. Oslo has been bombarded by air and sea. But the King and our government have escaped. The order is for general mobilization of all troops. Norway is at war!”
Liv turned to me, her face pale and her eyes wide with terror. “What do we do now?” she said.
I was silent for a few moments, swallowing my own fear so I could be strong enough for both of us. Then I stood and walked to the window. I picked up the box of matches and struck one, holding it to the wick of the candle that stood on the sill.
“We shine a light in the darkness, don’t we, Mamma? Just as you always say. And we will do what we have to, for as long as we have to, until Norway is free again.”
The three of us watched the little flame as it stuttered and flickered uncertainly at first. It seemed such a small gesture, but it steadied us as it began to burn more strongly, fragile yet defiant against the black of the night that seemed to be closing in on us from all sides.
*
We scarcely slept, and the next morning we were roused by the sound of firing from more German boats that had occupied the harbor overnight. Then a distant thunder resonated from farther down the fjord, shaking the floor beneath our feet.
“Who is firing back?” asked Liv, as we stood at the window, trying to make out what was going on.
“I don’t know, but whoever they are, they’re attacking our enemy, which makes them our friends.”
Watching from our ringside seat, we flinched as shells began to rain down upon the harbor, then saw the pier disintegrate in flaming splinters, planks of wood catapulted like matchsticks through the air.
“Come away from the window, girls,” Mamma said.
I could tell she was deliberately trying to keep her voice calm.
We went over to join her beside the wireless, where she was attempting to find a broadcast that would help us make sense of what was happening.
Our world was being torn apart before our eyes and, like the ground beneath our feet, we shook with a mixture of terror, fury, and stunned disbelief.
Our house was high enough above the harbor to have avoided the onslaught so far, but I knew, too, that while we probably wouldn’t be a deliberate target, we could easily be hit by a stray shell as the storm of the battle intensified.
For the first time in my life, I saw my mother scared. She had always been as steady as a rock, even when we lost Pappa. She always knew what to do. But now she looked older, suddenly frail. It was fleeting, and she quickly pulled herself together, but I had seen it.
I got up from my chair and went over to put my arms around her. “Don’t worry, Mamma. We will be all right.”
“Of course we will, my darlings. But I think we should at least make a few preparations, just in case we need to move into town where it might be safer.” Following her lead, we began packing some of our most treasured belongings—Pappa’s books, Liv’s sewing basket—with some clothes and blankets.
It felt better to be doing something purposeful.
Once the fighting abated a little, a tide of Narvik’s citizens flooded the harbor, attempting to flee in every fishing boat and rowing boat that was still afloat.
Mamma spotted some of her colleagues from work and hurried down to talk to them.
She brought back a few more snippets of news.
“The railway’s out—apparently some of the Norwegian troops who got away dynamited the viaduct to stop the Germans coming in by that route.
I’m going to the hospital, to see if I can be of help there.
But it might be best if the two of you were to leave with the others.
Get to Svolvaer, and I’ll come and find you there. ”
Liv and I exchanged a glance. “No,” I said firmly. “We’ll stay with you.” She looked as if she was about to argue, but then saw we were determined not to leave her.
“Very well. Bring those sheets and towels. They may be needed.”
On the way into town, we knocked at the door of the Hansens’ house. Nina answered, her face pale and drawn.
“Is there any word of Per?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Nothing so far. But we think he wasn’t among those who were shot in the marketplace. They haven’t found his body yet, anyway, so we hope he may have escaped into the mountains.”
I clung to that hope, too. “Come with us and help at the hospital,” I said.
“I will later, if I can. But for now, I need to stay with Mamma. She’s in a bad way, so worried for Per.”
Liv, Mamma, and I walked on into town, silent as we passed ruined buildings.
We stopped here and there to exchange a few words with the pitiful stream of our friends and neighbors making their way to the harbor, carrying as many of their possessions as they could.
They shared our sense of bewilderment and disbelief at what had become of our town.
The hospital was a frenzy of activity as staff treated the wounded from yesterday’s attacks.
Norwegian sailors—those who had survived—lay alongside injured German soldiers.
I hesitated when I saw that, but Mamma stepped forward, rolling up her sleeves.
“They are all some mothers’ sons, Hanna. Remember that,” she told me.
The nurses were grateful for any extra pairs of hands and soon had us washing bloodied bandages and mopping the floors as they tried to reestablish some kind of order in the chaos.
More German casualties were brought in as the day wore on.
“Those British bastards,” I overheard one saying.
“Their destroyers have entered the fjord. They should realize they’re just making it worse for you Norwegians.
” The doctor treating his wounds said nothing, but pressed his lips together in a hard line, determined to do his job no matter how unappealing the task might be.