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

moment, and then came on again. Eskeland jumped up from the
hold, calling to the others "It's burning," and all of them climbed
down into the dinghy, and waited. They knew the drill: to wait till the
last possible minute hidden in Brattholm's lee before they started to
try to row away.
    Eskeland sat looking at his wrist-watch, with his arm held steadily
in front of him. One of the others held on to the side of Brattholm's
hull. Two were ready at oars. One minute had gone already. They
could not see the German ship from there. They could hear it
approaching the other side of the Brattholm, firing in bursts at
Brattholm and at the crew in the other dinghy. Per Blindheim said:
"Well, we've had a good time for twenty-six years, Jan." Eskeland said:
"Two minutes." Jan could see the crew. They had got to the shore.
Two were still in the dinghy with their hands up. Three were on the
beach. One was lying on the edge of the water. One was trying to
climb the rocks, and machine-gun bullets were chipping the stones
above him and ricocheting across the fjord. Eskeland said: "Three
minutes." The German landing party came into sight, running along the shore towards the place where the crew had landed, jumping
from rock to rock. When they got near, the firing stopped, and for a
few seconds there was no sound but the shouts of German orders.
"Three and a half," Eskeland said. "Cast off."

    They began to row, keeping Brattholm between them and the
Germans. In that direction, towards the head of the fjord, it was two
hundred yards to shore. But the German ship was very close, and it
was much bigger than Brattholm. Before they had gone fifty yards
they were sighted, and at this point-blank range the Germans opened
fire. The dinghy was shot full of holes and began to sink. But the
German ship was slowly drawing alongside Brattholm, and the last
quarter of a minute of the fuse was burning down, and the fascination of watching the trap being sprung blinded them to the miracle
that so far they had not been wounded.
    The ship and Brattholm touched, and at that very moment the
explosion came. But it was nothing, only a fraction of what it should
have been. Only the primer exploded. The hatch covers were blown
off and the front of the wheelhouse was wrecked, but the German
ship was undamaged. There were shouts and confusion on deck and
for a few seconds the firing stopped. The ship went full speed astern.
Brattholm was burning fiercely. In that momentary respite, the men
in the dinghy rowed for their lives, but the ship swung round till its
three-pounder came to bear. Its first shot missed the dinghy. And
then the whole cargo exploded. Brattholm vanished, in the crack of
the shock wave, the long roar in the hills, the mushroom of smoke
streaked with debris and blazing petrol. Eskeland was blown overboard. Jan leaned out and got him under the arms and hauled him
on to the gunwale, and the German gunner recovered and a shot
from the three-pounder smashed the dinghy into pieces. They were
all in the water, swimming. There were seventy yards to go. The
Germans brought all their guns to bear on the heads in the water.
The men swam on, through water foaming with bullets, thrusting the
ice aside with their heads and hands.

    All of them reached the shore. Jan Baalsrud stumbled through the
shallows with his friend Per Blindheim beside him. As they reached
the water's edge Per was hit in the head and fell forward half out of
the water. With a last effort, Jan climbed a rocky bank and found
cover behind a stone. As he climbed he had been aware that his leader
Eskeland had fallen on the beach and that Salvesen, either wounded
or exhausted, had sunk down there unable to make the climb. He
shouted to them all to follow him, but there was no answer. A bullet
hit the stone above his head and whined across the fjord. He was
under fire from both sides. He looked behind him, and saw the
Germans who had landed. Four