We Die Alone: A WWII Epic of Escape and Endurance Read Online Free PDF

islands, dressed in civilian clothes, to do that
very thing: to say that they came from England, and then to report
anyone who offered to help them. What was more likely than that
they should pick on him, a merchant, a man with a certain standing
in the community, and one who had only recently set up in business?
He was thankful, now he came to think of it, that he had refused to
help them. And yet, had he been careful enough? He racked his
brains to remember exactly what he had said about Germans. He felt
sure he had been indiscreet. There had been something about mine fields. That was probably secret. Of course, he said to the others, the
only way to make sure of his position, the only safe thing to do, was
to report what the men had told him. Supposing they were German
agents, it would not be enough only to have refused to help them.
They would be waiting now to see if he reported them. If he didn't,
they would get him anyhow.

    The three men discussed this dilemma for an hour. The shopkeeper's wife listened in distress at his agitation. His brother was in
favour of doing nothing. It would be a bad business, he admitted, if
the men were Germans; but on the other hand, if he reported them
and it turned out that they had really come from England, it would
be far worse. The trouble was, it was impossible to be sure; but on the
whole, he thought it was right to take the chance.
    With this decision, after a long confusing argument, the skipper
and the shopkeeper's brother left for the fishing again. The shopkeeper himself went back to bed, still feeling sick and dizzy. He could
not sleep. He knew what it meant to be disloyal to the Germans, or
rather, to be caught at it: the concentration camp for himself and
perhaps for his wife as well; the end of the little business he had
begun to build up; the end of his safety was so easy. There was the
telephone downstairs in the shop. And yet, if they were really
Norwegians, and had really come from England, and the neighbours
got to know he had told the Germans, he knew very well what they
would say, and he knew very well what his customers would do.
Those men had sounded like Norwegians: not local men, but they
spoke Norwegian perfectly. But of course there might be Norwegian
Nazis, for all he knew, who would do a job like that for the Germans.
And was it possible to come in a fishing-boat in March all the way
from England? That sounded an unlikely story. Perhaps the best
thing would be to get up and go over to Toftefjord and speak to them
again and see if they could prove it. But then the Germans were too
clever to do anything by halves; they would have their proofs all
ready. How could he tell? How could he possibly find out?

    The shopkeeper lay all night, sick with fear and confusion.
Towards the morning, the last of his courage ebbed away. About
seven, he crept down to the shop, and picked up the telephone. He
had thought of a compromise. He asked for a man he knew who had
an official post in the Department of Justice.
    In Toftefjord, when Eskeland had told the others about the two
merchants with the same name, they agreed that there was nothing
to be done. The man had promised not to talk, and short of murder
they could not think of any way of making more sure of him than
that. So Eskeland set off again, not very much discouraged, to see the
two fishermen the shopkeeper had recommended.
    This time he got the answer he expected. There was no point in
telling these men the story about spare parts, By then, it was about
three o'clock in the morning, and even in the Arctic, where nobody
takes much notice of the time of day, people would not expect to be
woken up at such an hour with any ordinary request. He did not ask
them to go to Tromso either. Most of the first night was already gone,
and the most urgent need was to get the cargo ashore so that
Brattholm could sail again for Shetland.
    The two fishermen agreed at once,