Winter and fortitude

The 2014 Winter Olympic Games are over and the verdict is in: Norway placed second in gold and third in total medals behind the United States and Russia.

But stop and think a moment. Norway has a relatively tiny population of 5.1 million, some 1.5 million less than the state of Massachusetts. If Massachusetts were a country and garnered Olympic medals at the same rate as Norway, we would have walked away with the world’s top honors.

This puts into perspective the remarkable Norwegian achievement, whose winter athletes won medals on par with world superpowers. How can this be?

Obviously, Norway is geographically located in the far north. Its capital, Oslo, is farther north than Juneau, Alaska, and the country extends well past the Arctic Circle. Norwegians live winter ten months of the year.

But these simple facts don’t begin to tell the story of this tenacious people, their extreme mental and physical toughness. For that, we must turn to the historic exploits of Jan Baalsrud and the Norwegian villagers who saved him.

During World War II, Norway was occupied by the Nazis. It was a dark time, as Hitler’s forces turned the Scandinavian Peninsula into their northern fortress. The Germans launched Norwegian-based submarine raids against supply convoys destined for Russia. Air patrols projected control over the North Sea. Nazi troop concentrations convinced Sweden to maintain its uneasy neutrality.

Worse, Norway’s abundant hydroelectric power was at the heart of Hitler’s nuclear energy program. If successful, the war’s outcome would have been grim and quick, with Hitler as the new world ruler. This could not be allowed to stand.

Jan (“yahn”) Baalsrud was one of a patriotic band of Norwegian resistance fighters. Early in the war he escaped to Russia and eventually arrived in England, where he was recruited into an elite commando unit. After completing a grueling training program, he was assigned a dangerous mission to disrupt a Nazi airfield and recruit others into the resistance.

Departing from the Shetland Islands in late March, 1943, aboard the fishing cutter Brattholm with a crew of eight, Baalsrud and three other commandos were covertly landed on the Norwegian coast. Through a tragic mistake, they made contact with a Nazi sympathizer having the same name as their intended contact. Not knowing their cover was blown, they returned to the boat to prepare their weapons and explosives.

The next morning, the Brattholm was attacked by a Nazi patrol boat. To avoid the capture of sensitive codes and materiel, the crew sank her using a time delay fuse and eight tons of explosives. The crew and commandos set out in a small boat which was promptly sunk by cannon fire. Baalsrud and the others swam to shore, now teeming with troops, and attempted to evade capture. All were killed except Baalsrud, who, soaking wet and missing one boot, managed to kill a Gestapo officer and escape into the icy mountains towering 3,000 feet over the sea.

And then began a two-month, desperate bid for survival, aided by villagers at great risk to themselves. They dared not allow Baalsrud to stay in their homes, as the Gestapo would shoot an entire family if discovered. But they provided him with skis and sent him into the mountains to a hidden hut. Snow blind, frostbitten, and near death, Baalsrud managed to survive between the very occasional deliveries of provisions by the villagers, who could not allow the Nazi’s to detect their mountain forays.

As a measure of his grim ordeal, Baalsrud was forced to amputate his own toes to prevent the spread of gangrene. This rough surgery was extraordinarily painful but ultimately successful.

Eventually, the villagers managed to convey Baalsrud into the high, frigid interior plateau where they met a group of native Lapps. The Lapps agreed to carry him to safety in Finland using reindeer-drawn sleighs. Baalsrud survived, spent seven months in a Swedish hospital, and returned to England. After learning to walk again without toes, he resumed his role as a commando, training others and eventually returning to Norway as a freedom fighter.

This short narrative gives only a slight hint of the physical and mental fortitude of the Norwegian people. The full story involves cross country skiing at high speed to escape vehicle-mounted Nazi patrols, and skiing uphill thousands of feet into frozen mountains and glaciers, all while blinded by wind-whipped snow.

No, it is small wonder that Norway won so many gold medals. In games, as in life, they are toughened by winter. Something to which New Englanders can certainly relate.

The little known battle of Wake Island

Wake Island - destroyed Marine F4F Wildcats, VMF211.  National Archives Photo 80-G-179006

Today we really love our Toyotas and Hondas.  Japan is a close friend and ally of the United states and a major trading partner. But seventy years ago, Emperor Hirohito’s forces attacked the United States at Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, and at tiny Wake Island on December 8^th.  (These attacks were nearly simultaneous, as Wake Island lies across the International Dateline some 2,000 miles to the west.)  It is difficult to appreciate the bleakness of those times, with war seeming a poor reward for a decade of economic depression.

The story of Pearl Harbor is well known; Wake Island, less so.  Annexed by the United States in 1899, Wake remained desolate for many years.  Pan American Airlines built a facility there in 1935 to accommodate their flying boats, the famous Clippers which plied the Pacific in the pre-war years.  As tensions with Japan mounted, the Navy established a garrison in 1941 and by December had staffed it with 449 United States Marines, twelve Grumman F4F-3 Wildcats, 68 Navy personnel, and a contingent of over 1,200 civilian construction workers. 

The garrison was incomplete, lacking revetments to protect parked aircraft from shells or bombs, and no radar was yet installed.  On the morning of December 8^th (the 7^th in Hawaii), the garrison received a radio warning from Pearl.  Navy Commander W.S. Cunningham ordered four of his Marine pilots to take to the air to establish an air screen, thereby saving them from destruction.  At noon, a large force of Japanese Mitsubishi bombers from the Marshal Islands attacked and decimated seven of the eight F4F Wildcats remaining on the ground.  The eighth was later disabled in a taxiing accident.

Pan American’s facilities, including a hotel, warehouse, and fuel tanks, were destroyed by the raid. A moored Pan American airship, the Philippine Clipper, was riddled with shot and shrapnel but remained airworthy.  Her civilian crew, passengers, and ground employees were able to jettison unnecessary baggage and equipment and escape to Midway Island in a fortunate side note to this grim battle.

In spite of daily air attacks, the Marines were able to keep their small fleet of four remaining Wildcats serviceable, and their intrepid pilots served both as early warning for incoming air raids and to claim their share of downed enemy bombers. 

On December 11^th, the Japanese attempted an assault from the sea.   A seaborne force consisting of three light cruisers, six destroyers, and two armed merchantmen approached during the night with the intent of landing 450 troops.  But the defenders were able to sting heavily with coastal artillery and their few remaining aircraft.  Four Japanese ships were destroyed and several more damaged, and they were forced to withdraw.  This was the first defeat for the Japanese, who had till now seemed invincible at Pearl, Guam, Singapore, Hong Kong, and the Philippines.  The home front rejoiced at the news. But there was great cost to the Marines; two of the surviving F4Fs were destroyed leaving only two of the original twelve operational. 

Knowing the fate of the Marines, sailors, and civilians on Wake was precarious, the Navy mounted a relief force from Hawaii led by the carrier USS Saratoga and three heavy cruisers, ten destroyers, and a number of support ships.   But the Japanese were approaching Wake with a large task force consisting of two fleet carriers, many attendant cruisers and destroyers,  and a landing party of 1,500 men.   On December 22, the last two Wildcats were lost to carrier-based Japanese Zeros, and on the 23^rd the invasion was in full swing.  Realizing the strength of the Japanese armada, Pearl ordered the American relief force to turn back as it was deemed essential to insure the defense of Hawaii. Thus was sealed the fate of Wake’s defenders. 

The Marines fought defiantly, valiantly, and courageously, but were overwhelmed.  (Marine Captain Henry T. Elrod was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor for bravely piloting his F4F Wildcat to down two Zeros and sink a destroyer.  He was later killed protecting his men as they carried ammunition to a gun emplacement).  The Japanese bombarded for hours and then landed over 1,000 men, overpowering the island’s defenses.  By afternoon, Commander Cunningham was forced to surrender the garrison.  There followed a dark time of incarceration, hard labor in POW camps, and atrocities better forgiven than avenged.

Dark times, indeed, but those on the home front rose to the challenge, not only in the Pacific but also in Europe and around the world where Allied forces were amassing.  Our spirit, spunk, and perseverance led the Allies to the post-war world we have all enjoyed for over six decades. (Even Japan and Germany, the world’s 3^rd and 4^th largest economies.  Oh, to be defeated by those steely but benevolent Americans).

The veterans who formed the sharp tip of our spear in those years are quickly disappearing.  They who served in the early war years are approaching 90 years and beyond.  The incidence of veteran obituaries from that era has long since peaked and dwindled – few of them remain.  If you are fortunate enough to know a World War II vet, or are kind enough to visit a veteran facility, take a moment to listen to their stories and give them great thanks.