8
Two days later, Nordstrum, Einar, and Jens and their mates stepped onto the dock in Scotland, as the Galtesund, in the company of a British destroyer and a fleet of curious fishing boats and near its last shovelful of coal, put ashore in Aberdeen Harbor. The passengers lined the decks in nervous anticipation, not sure what to expect. They’d intended to land on the Norwegian coast, not the coast of Britain.
Leif Tronstad, in military khakis and a red beret, with three stars on his lapels, went onto the dock to greet them. He was accompanied by a civilian in a dark overcoat and black bowler and a ruddy-faced British officer in full dress uniform. Nordstrum and Einar bid the captain farewell.
Tronstad was a highly respected figure back in Norway, a renowned scientific mind who studied in Berlin with Bothe and Strassmann at the forefront of the uranverein research, then went on to become a lecturer in inorganic chemistry at the university in Trondheim, only to have to flee the Germans after passing along secrets on their V-3 weaponry and make his way through Sweden to London. Now he had the rank of major in the Free Norwegian Army. He had wiry, light hair, sharp blue eyes, and a ready smile, which seemed particularly wide today. And a pipe that he carried with him always.
“Thanks for the escort,” Einar said, embracing him warmly as he stepped onto the dock. “And you have no idea how timely it was. Without it, we’d be at the bottom of the sea.” He introduced the other members of the team. Nordstrum felt honored to meet such an esteemed national hero. They all shook hands.
“I’m only sorry it took so long,” the scientist turned intelligence agent replied in English. “And with such need for the dramatic. But scrambling a squadron of Spitfires for a Norwegian coastal steamer was no easy feat.”
“Better late than not at all, as we say,” said the Brit in the overcoat, whose name was Gubbins, and who was introduced as part of some outfit named SOE. “In any event, we’re glad you all made it here successfully. Very clever feat.”
“Which I hope to God was worth it,” Einar replied, digging into his pants pocket. He came out with the rolled-up tube of toothpaste, the purpose of this whole affair. “Here. It almost ended up on the ocean floor.”
Tronstad grinned. “You went to all this trouble on a matter of personal hygiene. Kind of you, my friend, but sad to say, they have ample toothpaste here in Scotland. Even in the war.”
“It’s from Jomar Brun. Of the Norsk Hydro plant in Vemork. You know him, I think.”
“As I should.” The scientist pulled on his pipe. “I hired him.”
“Well, I think you’ll find something quite valuable inside it. He said it was vital to get it into the right hands.”
“Well, you’ve done that, boys.” Tronstad nodded at the five grimy men who stood before him in workmen’s clothes. “And I know if it was Brun that pushed you to do this, I have no doubt that what you have here was worth what it took.”
“What’s going on up there in Vemork, if you don’t mind?” Nordstrum asked. “It seems there are more Germans around Rjukan these days than in Berlin.”
“Business. Very nasty business,” was all the scientist said. “But well worth the effort it took to bring this here.” He put the toothpaste tube in his jacket pocket. “For now, I’m sure you’d all like to get cleaned up and maybe into some new clothes. Say, military issue, if you’d be up for it?”
For two years they’d been fighting in tattered sweaters and skins, whatever kept them warm and dry. The thought of real uniforms sent a glow through each of them. “Yes, we would.” They nodded heartily.
“So who was it who engineered this little escapade of yours, if I may ask?” the British officer, a colonel by the name of Wilson, inquired. He was introduced as being in charge of the Special Operations Unit of the Free Norwegian Army.
“I guess that would be me, sir.” Nordstrum shrugged, not sure whether he was about to be commended or upbraided for putting so many of their countrymen at risk. “Kurt Nordstrum.” He wasn’t sure whether to salute or shake hands.
“You’ve seen action, soldier?” the colonel asked.
“We have.” Nordstrum nodded, pleased to be addressed as such after so many months now without a clear chain of command. “At Narvik and Tonneson and the Gudbrandsdalen valley. And more.”
“Tonneson?” Tronstad said with a grim nod. “Tonneson was rough, I heard.”
“It was,” Nordstrum said. “But we held for as long as we were able.”
“And you want to continue the fight, do you not?”
“Continue? Until the Germans are out of Norway, and not a day less. I think we all feel that way, sir, if I can speak for the men. That’s why we’re here.”
“Good. And so what rank were you, son,” the British colonel asked, “in your regiment back at home?”
“Rank?” Nordstrum shrugged. “We had no ranks at the end. We only served the king.”
“He was a sergeant,” Jens spoke up. “And the best we had.”
“A sergeant, you say?” The colonel stood in front of him.
“Only because I could shoot straight, sir,” Nordstrum said, glancing at Jens in a rebuking way.
“Well, you’ll serve the king as a lieutenant now, if that’s all right with you. Welcome to the Linge Company, officer. And congratulations!”
“Lieutenant!” Einar’s eyes went wide. He rubbed his knuckles against his chest as if he were shining a medal, and went to salute.
“Don’t bother, soldier. You’re now one as well.”
“Two lieutenants!” Jens exclaimed. “The army must clearly be short of officers here. If you’re giving away bars, you know, I was part of it too.”
“Well, we’ll have to leave something to work up to for the rest of you,” the colonel said. “But there could be stripes in your future.”
“Stripes will do just fine, sir.” Jens grinned widely.
“So what exactly is the Linge Company, sir?” Nordstrum asked the colonel. “If I might ask?”
“Oh, we do this and that.” He smiled evasively. “You’ll find out soon enough. Judging from what I’ve seen already, I believe you’ll be a good fit.”
“The three of you will indeed be a good fit!” Tronstad chimed in approvingly. “But now I think we should let these men set foot on the British Isles,” he said to the man with the bowler. He clutched the toothpaste tube. “And we’ll get on to taking a look at just what you’ve brought us.”
9
July 12, 1942, four months after the Galtesund docked at Aberdeen