“Commander…” The head of the SOE deferred to Henneker, his chief mission planner and one who Wilson knew played by the book.
“Not someone,” the ex–Royal Highlander said. “A team. Though it would have to be large enough to overpower the guards, and nimble enough to get out once their work is done. Let us chew it around. We’ll come up with something.”
“So to be clear, then,” Lord Brooks scanned the faces at the table, “we’re all aligned on the science?” He looked toward Kelch, the professor. “This heavy water … I wouldn’t know it from lemonade myself, but we agree, it’s essential that its production not be allowed to continue.”
“We’ve run it by General Groves and the Metallurgy Committee in the States, as it’s called there,” Kelch said. “He’s in total agreement. Such a weapon, if it were allowed to progress, would have unimaginable consequences. Destroying the German heavy water stockpiles and their capacity to increase their stocks is the only way to stop its development.”
“And as far as the War Command is concerned,” Lord Brooks cast a glance around the table, “it’s safe to say the prime minister has come to the same assessment.” He motioned to the screen. “This Chief Engineer Brun, on the inside, he took these photos?”
“The interior ones.” Tronstad tapped out his pipe. “Yes.”
“Then he seems to have done us quite a service.”
“Indeed, he has.” Tronstad nodded appreciatively. “But the most troubling part is what he has passed along in his notes.” He took out a sheet of paper and passed it around. On the top, it read in German: Top Secret. Office of Economic Warfare. Uranverein Project. The key parts were highlighted: On orders from German High Command, June 25, D2O capacity is ordered to be increased from 3,200 to 10,000 pounds annually.
“Ten thousand pounds…?” Brooks raised his white eyebrows. “I thought three thousand was sufficient.”
“Which is precisely what’s so troubling,” Tronstad said. “With that amount, it is not a stretch to believe it is conceivable the Germans could be testing such a weapon within a year.”
Brooks took the paper and read it through himself. “Then it seems we’d better get on it, gentlemen. I’m speaking for the prime minister and the entire War Command when I say the heavy water threat is too severe to let stand. Something must be done about it.” He went from eye to eye around the table. “We’re all agreed?”
“We are.” Brant Kelch nodded, wiping his spectacles.
“For me as well,” said Tronstad.
Henneker and Wilson nodded too.
“So there we are,” Brooks said to Gubbins. “See that you put your heads to it. And quick.” The Home Office lord from Whitehall stood up, placed his files back in his briefcase, and locked the clasp.
“Of course, sir.” Gubbins stood up as well, with an eye toward Henneker and Wilson. “We’ll be on it right away.”
“And Major General…” The man from Whitehall picked up his bowler, tapping it contemplatively against the table’s edge. “Just so we all understand … we require complete and total secrecy on this matter. Not a word comes out about what we’re really after. Not even to the poor men who will ultimately carry it out, God protect their souls.”
“Of course, sir,” Gubbins said with a look down the table toward Wilson. “That is how we do things here.”
Jack Wilson knew the war had finally come to him.
10
For the next few months, Nordstrum and Jens trained as part of the Linge Company, named for Captain Martin Linge, a member of the Free Norwegian Army who was killed by a German sniper during a commando landing in 1941. They remained far from the action.
The outfit’s real purpose soon became clear.
SOE had established sixty special training schools (STSs), each with a different specialty, scattered at secure locations throughout the British Isles. Linge Company’s training was about as far from marching in step or learning to clean one’s weapon as it could be. Company members were taught the arts of close-combat fighting and silent killing; how to set up and operate a radio; the ins and outs of industrial sabotage and explosives; how to recruit an agent and maintain them in the field; how to recognize surveillance; and how to survive in the most hostile conditions, for months, if necessary. The regimen was thorough and never-endingly intensive. Nordstrum’s company trained and trained and then trained some more, until they were in the topmost physical condition they could possibly be.
Many of the men were fellow resistance fighters Nordstrum had fought side by side with back in Norway. Soldiers who had made it to England against considerable odds to continue the fight were surely men of courage and determined spirit, but after being put through the rigorous SOE training programs they emerged soldiers of the highest caliber. All they awaited was the reason and opportunity to be sent back into the field.
The Norwegian section of SOE was known as STS 26. It was based at Druminoul and Glenmore, shooting lodges in the Cairngorms in the Scottish Highlands, the most approximate terrain in the UK to their Norwegian homeland. The unit was under the direction of Colonel Jack Wilson. These lodges were so secluded that often the surrounding townspeople had no idea what took place in them. At Druminoul, near a loch teeming with trout and salmon and woods that were abundant with pheasant and deer, the men felt right at home, supplementing their rations, as when growing up, with fish and game caught that very day.
Jens was still there, alongside some of the most capable “hill men” Nordstrum had ever met. But early on, Einar had been removed from the group. Word was he was being given different training at another location, a shortened version of the same skills. But after a couple of weeks, when Nordstrum inquired about his friend, the colonel only told him he was gone.
“Gone…?”
“He’s back in Norway. I’m afraid his ‘vacation’ has ended,” Wilson said with a wry smile. He told Nordstrum his friend had been secretly dropped by parachute onto the Hardanger vidda the week before and was now back in Vigne with his wife and kids and a secret radio.
“Dropped in? By parachute?” Nordstrum said with surprise. “Einar can barely jump off a fence without closing his eyes.”
“Well, he’s got a bit more expertise in it now. He’s an invaluable asset there for us. The company he was on leave from never even had the slightest idea he was gone.”
Nordstrum felt his blood burn with envy. Einar had taken a risk to be here, just as they all had. But he did have a family and a well-placed job that could be of use to them down the line. Still, to be back in action! In Norway. Striking a blow against the enemy. That was the dream of all of them there.