Ten Days in May

By Ted Hovey

As German armed forces invade Norway in 1940, six Americans are stranded as the bombs drop around them. Their lives get more complicated when a wounded British soldier arrives on their doorstep. He desperately needs help, and the only help to be found is with the Germans. Consequently, Professor Wes Burton leads the Americans as they are escorte

• Language: English
• Publisher: Blue Prairie Publishing
• Release date: Dec 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9780990809715

Ted Hovey

Ted Hovey earned his MFA at Hamline University. He served with the U.S. Army in Munich, Germany, from 1960 to 1962 - the period of the Berlin Wall Crisis and the Cuban Missile Crisis. After the Army, Hovey worked as a CPA.

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Ten Days in May

A Novel by Ted Hovey

© Ted Hovey 2015. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including Internet usage, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

ISBNs: 978-0-9908097-0-8 (print)

            978-0-9908097-1-5 (ebook)

Ten Days in May is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Blue Prairie Publishing

Roseville, MN

For Rev. Jennings G. Feroe, in memoriam.

Prologue

British troops are overcome by Germans in Norway’s Gudbrandsdal; British War Cabinet orders withdrawal at Trondheim

(International Press Union)

Monday, April 29, 1940 Otta, Norway

The roar of the airplane as it flew over the cabin sounded like the thunderous noise of one of Norway’s large waterfalls. The explosion came next. Dirt and gravel rained down onto the roof.

Scared and confused — we got out of bed and stood in a huddle in the middle of the living room.

The sounds of battle rose from the valley the day before — and into the night. German artillery and airplanes attacked the brave men of the Norwegian and British armies in and around the town of Otta.

German armed forces had invaded Norway on April 9, 1940. We Americans in Norway were anxious, but not fearful — at first. We hoped it would all work out for us. At least we — the United States — were not at war. President Roosevelt said that we would not get involved in Europe’s wars. Good. I could say amen to that. I was sure that most Americans felt the same.

My regard for Germany had been lowered with each report of aggression against its European neighbors — Austria in March 1938, Czechoslovakia in October 1938, and Poland in September 1939. And then there was the stripping away of freedom from Jews and other minority groups.

Still, it wasn’t my fight.

We were four in the cabin, all American citizens — Paul Nelson, Bill Miller and his sister Caroline, and me. I was on a sabbatical leave from the University of Washington, studying runic writings in northern Europe. Paul Nelson was a tall man — slightly taller than me. He was a Minnesota seminary graduate, in Oslo to study theology and to improve his fluency in the Norwegian language. Bill Miller and his sister Caroline were from Chicago, where Bill was an attorney and Caroline was a nurse.

Caroline had inherited her grandmother’s property in Norway, and she and Bill were in Oslo to settle the estate. The rustic cabin we were in, which was now Caroline’s property, was where we had fled after leaving Oslo to get away from the tension of the German occupation and the threat of British air raids.

Two Americans stayed in Oslo. Charles Fowler, who was trying to complete his business negotiations with a Norwegian shipping company, and Robert Collier, an eighteen-year-old boy who lived with his Norwegian mother in Oslo. We had all met each other at events held over the winter at the U.S. Embassy in Oslo.

It was in the dark, early hours of Monday, April 29, after the near miss of the bomb woke us, when there was pounding on the cabin door. A faint voice begged for help. I went to the door. The man fell at my feet.

Paul, Bill, and Caroline helped me get the injured man on my bed. He was cold. His mud-caked uniform was bloodstained. Caroline took over as the good nurse she was. The man had no weapon, but he had a wallet in his jacket pocket, and a leather map case with a shoulder strap.

The soldier told me his name was Lieutenant Dennis Farr. He was a platoon leader in the 1st Battalion of the British Army’s Green Howards regiment.

I looked inside the map case — at a quick glance I could see that it contained German plans for an invasion of the British Isles.

Don’t just stand there, Caroline said. Bill and Wes — help me get his clothes off.

I put the map case under the bed until later — when I could look more closely at its contents.

Paul, you go into the kitchen and start to heat some water. Then bring me all the towels you can find in the kitchen and the bathroom.

At age twenty-four, Caroline was not only smart and professional — she was quite attractive. Her brown hair, tinged with auburn that came out when she was outdoors in the sun, complemented her green eyes in a way that I found pleasing.

When Lieutenant Farr was cleaned up, Caroline fed him some bread and broth.

He has a bullet in his shoulder, and there is a deep cut, like a grazing bullet wound, in his left thigh. He has lost a lot of blood. He needs a doctor.

Can’t you do any more for him? I asked.

No. I’ve cleaned the wounds and cuts, but we have no antiseptic. We have nothing to help him with his pain. I’m afraid he needs to have a doctor, and soon.

We sat in silence for a while. The others looked at me. The dawn was visible in the east. There had been sounds of war for hours, but now it was quiet. I guessed that the battle for Otta was over. Which side won?

I needed to be alone for a while in order to talk with Lieutenant Farr and to examine what was in his map case.

Paul, you speak a little German. Why don’t you go with Bill and Caroline down to the valley road and find some help. Armies have medical people with them. Tell them about the situation and ask them to come up here to look at him. Hopefully you will come back with a British doctor. I’ll stay here with Lieutenant Farr.

When they were out of sight over the hill in front of the cabin, I pulled the map case out from under the bed. I opened the flap and took the documents out. I had them on my lap and was looking at them when I saw Lieutenant Farr raise his good arm.

You realize the significance of what you have there in your hands, don’t you? he asked.

I’m beginning to.

Plans for an invasion of England. I had no idea the Germans had such ambitions.

Where did you get this? I said.

My battalion was pulling out of Otta last night. My platoon stayed behind to hold off the Germans. We held our position for about thirty minutes. When it was dark, I told the lads to pull out and go up the road to reach the rest of the Howards on their way to Dombas. I stayed with the machine gun for another five or ten minutes. I turned to run after my men, but the bloody Nazis were already behind me. That’s when I was hit.

He used his right arm to point at his wounds.

I decided to go the opposite direction, seeing as the Jerries were going up the road, so I went down the road, through the town. That’s when I saw the dead Nazi and took his map case.

How did you get up here to our cabin?

Once I was through town, I heard trucks coming from the southeast. I left the road then, and went up the hill. I spotted this cabin. By the way, thank you for helping me. You’re Americans, aren’t you?

Yes. That’s right.

His shoulder wound was oozing blood again. The gash in his thigh was about a half inch deep, flanked by ugly red shreds of flesh. The tourniquet set by Caroline had slowed but not stopped the flow of blood.

Lieutenant Farr winced with pain.

You need medical help soon. My friends went down the valley to see if they can get you a doctor. I was hoping it would be a British doctor, but maybe that’s not possible now.

No, it isn’t possible. Bugger. Listen to me. They most likely will find a Jerrie doctor. They must not find that map case here. You must get those plans to British Intelligence. Or American Intelligence — they’ll know what to do with them.

Well now, I don’t know …

What do you mean, you don’t know? You do too know. If the Nazis succeed in invading England … do you want to see a Nazified America? They are brutal. Look what they did to Poland.

I was aware of Germany’s invasion of Poland on September 1, 1939. Lieutenant Farr opened my eyes and my mind to what else had been going on. I had not been aware of the brutality with which they treated the Poles, who were viewed as inferior to the German people.

What is your name? Lieutenant Farr asked.

Excuse me?

What is your name? This is one of the most important moments in your life — maybe the biggest moment — and I want to know your name.

It’s Wes. Wesley. Wesley Burton.

Wesley Burton. Please, Mr. Burton. I’m asking you to do whatever it takes to get these plans into the hands of British intelligence. Will you do that for me? No — not for me, but for England. For America. For freedom.

Was this war about something more than I realized? Was it as serious as Lieutenant Farr had described?

I — I don’t know. It seems impossible. How could I possibly get these documents to British intelligence. I don’t know where to begin. No, I can’t promise to do that. I’m stuck here in an occupied country for — I have no idea for how long. My country is still neutral. I don’t think I can promise you that.

Look, Wesley Burton — bugger you — I lost three good lads yesterday. They’re dead down there in the valley. You bloody well better try to do something now, or those boys died in vain. Bloody hell.

He tried to rise up, but cried out as he got up on his right elbow. Then he fell back on his pillow. I helped him find a comfortable position again.

Please, Mr. Burton, Lieutenant Farr said softly. Please say you will do your best. It’s the right thing to do. All any of us can do is try to do the right thing.

Without thinking it through I said yes. I said I would try my best to get these maps and plans into the hands of British intelligence. He smiled weakly, and relaxed. I looked down at the papers on my lap.

Why? Why did I agree to such an impossible task? I saw no way that I would be able to reach British intelligence agents and give them these plans. The British Army was retreating out of this valley. I had reacted impulsively, out of sympathy for a man who was hurting. A man who might die soon — at best he would most likely end up as a prisoner of war.

On the other hand, if the danger posed by German Nazism was as bad as Lieutenant Farr said — then I had made the right choice — maybe.

Surely I wasn’t bound by a promise made to make a suffering man feel a little better, was I? No, this was not a promise I was required to carry out. Furthermore, whether I was honor-bound to try to carry out my commitment or not, the task was impossible.

Every argument I thought of for not being faithful to my promise was met with equally strong reasons why I should. Yes, there were the abstractions of freedom and justice and loyalty and the preservation of Western democracy. But what bothered me most was the feeling that my self-respect was in danger if I didn’t try. Being true to my word was so deeply a part of me. Being faithful to my pledged word was essential to who I was as a man — as a human being. No, I would have to put all doubts aside and give it all I could to try to do my best.

Now what? A set of maps and other documents would be difficult to hide. How would I explain them to Paul, Bill, and Caroline, let alone any soldiers or police we might encounter?

The only answer I could think of was to photograph the plans and then to destroy or hide the documents themselves. In my research work on runic writings, I used two cameras. One was a small Minox Riga, which I carried with me at all times in case I came across something of value in my research and didn’t have the Leica with me.

I worked quickly. I wanted to be done before the others returned. I photographed each of the maps and typewritten sheets. I removed the film, and then made a decision to not keep the film in the bag with my other film rolls. Where to hide it then? I looked around and then thought of just the place. I took the top off my Florident tooth powder can. I sealed the film roll in wax paper, and buried it in the tooth powder. It was the best idea I could come up with. Now, what to do with the map case and its contents?

There was still no sign of my friends or anyone else. I found a spade in the shed behind the cabin. I walked about 100 yards from the cabin, where many rocks were lying about. I rolled a rock aside, dug a hole underneath it, and put the map case in the hole. After covering the case with dirt, I put the rock back where it had been.

I was sitting down in the cabin with a book when the others returned.

Paul walked up to me and turned the cover of my book up.

Marcus Aurelius — The Meditations — always the professor, Paul said affably.

I smiled.

Paul held the book open to the page where I had just underlined a sentence.

If it is not right, do not do it; if it is not true, do not say it.

My, what fine words, Wes, Paul said.

Wes, this is Doctor Vanek, Caroline said. He has agreed to look at Lieutenant Farr.

Doctor Vanek was in a German officer’s uniform. Through a window I could see several German soldiers walking towards the rear of the cabin. There were probably other soldiers in front.

The doctor and Caroline spent about fifteen minutes in the bedroom with Farr. When they came out, the doctor spoke in English.

The wounded man will be carried down to the road where we have an ambulance waiting. We should be able to get him to a hospital in Oslo by this afternoon. He was lucky that you kind people took care of him. You undoubtedly saved his life.

What will happen to him when he has recovered from his wounds? Bill asked.

As a British soldier, he is our prisoner of war, and he will be kept in a prison camp somewhere in Germany until this war is over, which I hope will be soon.

Do you think it’s safe for us to return to Oslo? Paul asked.

But of course. As Americans, you are completely safe.

Has there been much aerial bombing of Oslo?

No, there hasn’t. The British have come over a few times, but their bombs have not done much damage. And in a few days they will be out of Norway completely. I would say it is perfectly safe for you all to return to what you were doing in Oslo.

Soldiers came into the cabin with a stretcher and took Lieutenant Farr away. As he went by me, he looked into my eyes.

I did not look away.

We were quiet after the doctor and soldiers left. The strain of the hours we spent with Lieutenant Farr, and then the Germans, showed on each of us.

Now what? Paul said.

I guess we can go back to Oslo, I said.

I’m exhausted. I can’t go anywhere right now, Caroline said.

We agreed we would rest, and then pack our things and get ready to leave later in the morning. Paul started to putter around in the kitchen. None of us had eaten since dinner the night before.

While we were eating, there was a knock on the door. A voice in German told us to open the door. It was another German officer, one not nearly as pleasant as Doctor Vanek.

What is it you want? I replied in German.

I have just spoken with the doctor. You Americans are to return to Oslo immediately. We have a truck waiting in the town of Otta. You will now get your things together and follow me.

We took our time packing our bags. The German officer looked at his watch. The man redeemed himself by telling his soldiers to help us carry our bags. He said the trains and buses were not in operation yet. The one taxi in Otta, which took us to the cabin days before,