by Kris Tualla
Teigen slid off the chair and knelt on the carpet. “It was like a bad dream. One where no matter how hard you try, you can’t do the thing you need to do.”
His shoulders began to shake. “I saw so many of them afterwards. Lying on the ground. Dead.”
Somehow Selby was on the floor in front of him. “You did everything you could, Teig. It wasn’t your fault.”
He covered his face with his hands. “But don’t you see? It could have been! If I had put the bomb on that ship, all of this would be my doing. All the dead people. All the destroyed buildings…”
He knew he was crying. Sobbing. Loudly.
He rocked back and forth, shaking with terror at the horrific destiny he so narrowly missed.
“Oh God, Sel!” he cried from behind his hands. “Can you even imagine such a terrible thing?”
Selby’s arms were around him.
“God saved you from it,” she said over and over again. “You aren’t guilty of anything.”
Teigen had no idea how long he knelt on the floor, panicking over the fate that he so narrowly missed, but Selby never left his side. All he knew was that he needed to thank God every single day for the rest of his life for not turning him into a mass murderer, a man no better than Hitler himself.
“Come to bed,” his wife whispered.
Teigen realized he had been holding her quietly for some time. His heart had settled into its normal pace. His tears were dry.
He let go of her and unfolded himself from the floor. His stiff legs were numb and Selby had to steady him as he moved to the bed. She helped him undress until he only wore his boxer shorts.
“Get under the covers,” she said softly as she put his clothes in the laundry hamper. “Do you want some tea?”
He shook his head, unable to make coherent sounds come out of his mouth.
Selby undressed and donned her nightgown. Then she turned off the light and got into bed.
When she snuggled next to him he held her close.
“I need you, Sel,” he finally whispered, daring to hope his wife understood the depths of his request.
Selby didn’t hesitate. She pushed the covers away and rolled on top of him, straddling his hips with her knees. Her nightgown was somehow around her waist. She leaned forward and kissed him softly.
“Take me then,” she whispered back.
He did.
Selby lifted herself so Teigen could push his boxers out of the way. When she settled back against him they were skin to skin.
She whispered again, “Show me what to do.”
Teigen kissed her deeply, running his hands over her skin. He waited, his hardness pressed to her softness, until he was sure she was ready.
He gripped her hips, lifted her and aimed himself. When she lowered herself and took him in, she moaned; the primal sound rose from deep in her throat.
Loving Selby was nothing like his experiences with Elsa. Teigen realized at that moment that he never really loved Elsa—he only lusted after her. Joining with Selby truly made them one flesh in every sense of that word.
His release carried his anguish with it, draining him physically and emotionally. Selby cried out with her own climax before collapsing over him. Her panting breaths matched his. He felt her heart beating against his.
“I love you,” he rasped. “More than you know.”
Selby didn’t answer him with words, but she held on to him as if her life depended on it.
Exhausted by everything that occurred that fateful day, he fell into a peaceful sleep with his beloved wife still resting on top of him.
May 20, 1944
Bergen, Norway
During the past month, the Bergen Milorg group had found out in bits and pieces what happened after the explosion.
Fifty-six German sailors and soldiers died when the ship blew up.
Ninety-eight Norwegians died, some from proximity to the blast and others when their homes were suddenly knocked to the ground on top of them. One-hundred-and-thirty-one homes were destroyed in all, leaving nearly five thousand Bergen residents wounded and homeless.
After the explosion Lauritz Sletten and Lars Hamre were arrested and imprisoned for three weeks—Lauritz choosing to keep Teigen’s secret while the Germans investigated the blast. When the Nazis didn’t find proof that the mechanics had done anything wrong, the men were thankfully released.
“Maybe the Nazis know it was German sabotage and they’re trying to blame us,” Helgesen told Teigen the same day he also told him about the promotion. “And that’s why they’ve targeted two of our known Milorg members, Rolf Olsen and Trygve Havnes, for arrest on sight.”
“But they didn’t have anything to do with the explosion,” Teigen replied. “They aren’t even in Bergen anymore.”
Helgesen shrugged. “My guess is that after they had to let Sletten and Hamre go, and the German Navy Court threw their own harbormaster into prison, they needed to find some way to blame Norway for their losses.”
The most interesting tidbit they discovered was the location where a portion of the Voorbode’s anchor was found: almost two miles from the harbor and high in the mountains above Bergen.
“Thirteen hundred feet above sea level,” Falko said as the Milorg group stared, astounded, at the recovered chunk of debris. “That’s how strong the blast was.”
The rubble from the explosion was slowly being cleared, but it would take years—probably decades—before everything that was leveled could be rebuilt.
Gunnhild’s boarding house and the other houses in her row only sustained superficial damage. Her male boarders were working together to replace her windows, fallen clapboards, and roofing tiles in exchange for a little deduction in their rent.
Since the night of the explosion, Teigen and Selby experienced a full marriage. She came eagerly and often into his arms at night, her childhood demons finally conquered and forever banished.
And though during the last month Teigen still experienced occasional twinges of shaky relief that he wasn’t responsible for the devastation in Bergen, he never had any of the nightmares he feared he would suffer from after that horrible day.
He believed he had his wife to thank for that. And so he thanked her often—and vigorously, much to her expressed delight.
Chapter
Forty Three
February 21, 1945
Bergen, Norway
“Teigen, look at this headline.” Selby handed her husband the Norwegian Resistance’s newspaper. “Isn’t this what Tor went to America for?”
Teigen grabbed the paper and read the headline out loud. “Ski Patrol Defeats Germans in the Alps.”
On February 18th, under the cover of darkness, nine hundred men from the 86th Mountain Infantry Regiment attacked Riva Ridge in the Italian Alps, climbing the ice-coved ridge with ropes in complete silence. They were able to surprise and subdue the German lookouts and subsequently captured the Ridge.
American casualties numbered seventeen dead, thirty-eight wounded, and three missing.
These soldiers were taught to ski at Camp Hale in Colorado, USA by a group of experienced skiers led by Norway’s own Tor Hansen, who qualified in downhill skiing for the cancelled 1940 Winter Olympics.
Teigen looked up from the newspaper. “Of course the report mentions him by name. He’s very famous.”
Selby lifted one brow. “Are you jealous?”
“No. I’m famous, too, remember?” Teigen chuckled. “Though my status as arrested teacher returned from Kirkenes has faded a bit.”
“Don’t worry. History will always remember.” Selby reached for the newspaper and he handed it back to her. “Any idea what’s our next project?”
“Nope. I guess we’ll find out from Helgesen this afternoon.”
The Milorg meeting was held in the familiar secret room behind the barn where Teigen and Falko armed the exploding desk. The people who gathered in the unheated room huddled together in their heavy coats and snow boots, their breath creating lit
tle clouds of fog in front of their faces.
Selby, of course, wore her Arctic fox coat.
Major Helgesen stood at one end of the room. “I’ll keep this short so you can all get back home. We’re going to be part of a plan called Operation Cement Mixer. It’s a coordinated effort between Milorg and the Linge men, and it’s scheduled to take place three weeks from today—March fourteenth.”
Selby leaned over to Teigen and whispered, “Whatever that is, it’s going to be big.”
“The goal is to blow up railroad lines all throughout Norway on the same day in a hundred or more key locations,” Helgesen explained. “Germany is losing the war, and they have thousands of troops just sitting here in the occupation. We intend to hobble the train system so they can’t transfer those troops back to Germany and keep fighting.”
Approving murmurs rumbled around the room. Teigen looked across at Falko. Falko grinned and winked at him. His friend knew Teigen would be on the ground with this initiative because of his experience with blowing things up.
And Falko would be by his side.
Helgesen waved his hand to quiet the room. “Our points of disruption are outside of Bergen, Dale, and Vossevangen if we can get there through the snow. We’ll need a team for each location.”
Dahl raised his hand. “How far is it from Bergen to Dale and Vossevangen?”
“Dale is about forty miles and Vossevangen is about sixty-five.”
“How many men per team?” another man asked.
“At least four.”
Teigen raised his hand. It was better to volunteer first and take the assignment he preferred. “I’ll take Dale.”
I’ve had enough with explosions in Bergen.
Dahl, Bennett—and of course Falko—all threw their hands in the air.
“I’ll go.”
“Me, too.”
“I’m in.”
Major Helgesen shook his head, smiling. “I don’t know what it is, Hansen. But you do seem to inspire loyalty. Okay, Dale is covered. Who wants Bergen?”
March 14, 1945
Dale, Norway
The road to Dale was piled so high with snow on either side that all Teigen could see was the path in front of him. The quartet left Bergen when the sun rose at seven in order to make the most of their day.
“I’ll try to be home by noon,” he promised Selby when he kissed her goodbye. “One at the latest.”
“Be careful,” she warned. “And don’t rush anything. You need to come home safely.”
Teigen crossed his heart. “I promise. No heroics.”
“Thank you.” Selby kissed him again. “I’ll be right here when you get back.”
“There it is.” Falko pointed forward. “I see the church spire.”
“Do they know we’re coming?” Bennett asked.
“I don’t think so,” Dahl replied. “The element of surprise is important for this to work.”
Teigen rolled the car into the village. “Do you see the train station?”
Falko pointed again. “To the right.”
Teigen parked the car in front of the wooden shed that protected waiting passengers. “Let’s go.”
The four men climbed out of the car and wrapped their faces with woolen scarves. The wind was biting even though the sun shone.
Dahl opened the trunk of the car and each man grabbed a sack. Inside each sack was a packet of gunpowder, a length of fuse, and a cigarette lighter.
“Four explosions, twenty-five yards apart,” Teigen reminded them. “I’ll lead out. When we’re far enough from here, you three double back and space yourselves.”
The men began walking the track. Teigen counted his strides and stopped when he hit one hundred and fifty.
“This is it.” He turned around. “Go twenty-five paces and set your bomb. Shout out when you’re ready. We’ll all light our fuses at the same time.”
“Yes, sir.” Falko saluted, smiling.
The men turned and retraced their steps.
Teigen tucked his packet of gunpowder under a rail and stuck the fifteen inch fuse into it. There was enough gunpowder to cause an explosion with a thirty to forty foot radius and he wanted the thirty minutes for them all to escape safely.
Dahl called out. Then Bennett. And Falko.
“Okay!” Teigen shouted. “Light ‘em!”
Once his fuse was burning he jogged back toward the village. Dahl, Bennett, and Falko joined him in turn, each keeping up with his pace.
Back at the car, the men climbed inside to get away from the wind. The sun shining through the glass warmed the interior a little.
Falko settled in the front seat and closed his eyes. “Now we wait.”
No one talked as the minutes ticked by. Teigen opened the driver’s side window a few inches to listen for the explosions.
Instead, he heard a train whistle in the distance.
He looked back at Dahl in alarm. “There isn’t supposed to be a train.”
Dahl wagged his head. “No. There isn’t.”
“Did you all put your bombs under the rail?” Teigen asked.
They nodded.
“So the train can go over them without displacing them?”
“Yes,” they chorused.
Teigen slumped in his seat. “How much time do we have left?”
Falko looked at his watch. “Ten minutes.”
It was a matter of time whether the tracks blew up before the train crossed, after the train crossed, or just as the train rolled over the bombs. Clearly the train that was approaching wasn’t a scheduled run. That probably meant it was carrying German soldiers toward the port at Bergen.
Teigen heaved a sigh. “There’s nothing we can do now but wait and see what happens.”
Time seemed to have stopped. The train whistled again, definitely closer. It didn’t seem to be in a hurry or it might have reached Dale by now.
Teigen looked at Falko. “How much time is left now?”
“Four minutes.”
“If the tracks are destroyed before the train gets there it’ll derail,” Bennett observed. “And if the bombs go off while it’s riding over them the cars will be thrown off the track.”
“But…” Dahl leaned forward. “If they explode after the train arrives at this station, we are sitting ducks for the Germans to pick off.”
“Good point.” Teigen started the engine. “We’ll have to trust our work and—”
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The screech of metal tore the air and pierced Teigen’s ears. The crashing of train cars and the screams of men clearly carried toward the car on the wind.
Teigen put the car in reverse and backed up.
As he shifted into drive, the engine of the train skidded into view. There were no cars attached, and only the fluttering of swastika-festooned flags confirmed what the men thought.
Teigen hit the gas.
*****
When Teigen opened the door to their room at the boarding house, one look at Selby’s distraught expression and flowing tears erased the satisfaction of their job well done.
“What’s happened?” The worst possibility rushed to the front of his thoughts and demanded to be spoken. “Has someone died?”
She nodded while her lips disappeared, pinned between her teeth.
“My father? My mother?”
Selby shook her head slowly.
“Not—oh God!” Teigen sank to his knees. “Tor?”
Selby handed him the letter, which he accepted with trembling hands.
Dearest Son,
We received the worst possible news today. Your brother was killed in battle in Italy. The telegram didn’t say how it happened, but it did say he will receive a Silver Star. It’s the third highest military award that the Americans bestow, awarded for gallantry in action against an enemy of the United States.
His body is being sent back to America…
Teigen looked up at Selby. “America? Why not Norway?”
Selby wiped her s
treaming eyes. “Keep reading.”
…back to America and his wife.
“Wife?” Teigen smacked his head. “He got married? To an American?”
Selby gave him an empathetic half-smile. “So it seems.”
She will receive his Silver Star posthumously during his military burial there.
Your father and I are going to try and find out more about her and will tell you when we do. In the meantime, please try to keep yourself safe. You’re all we have.
All our love,
Mamma
Teigen was so stunned he couldn’t cry. He couldn’t move. He felt numb.
Tor had always gone ahead of him, blazing a trail that he could never match—or so it felt. Now his impulsive brother was dead. There would be no more shoes to fill. No more shadows to step out from. No more stories of his glorious exploits.
Teigen was his parents’ only son.
“The future of the family rests on my shoulders now.” His voice sounded strange. Distant. Flat. “I’ll—we’ll—need to move back to Arendal as soon as possible.”
“Leave Milorg.” Selby said it before he had to.
“Yes.” Teigen stared at his wife, still dry-eyed. “We won’t miss much. If every location was as successful as we were today, the Germans will be crippled.”
She looked hopeful. “So it went well?”
Teigen nodded, the letter still clutched in his hand. “There was an unscheduled train. It came through just when the bombs went off.”
Selby’s eyes widened. “Oh no!”
Teigen held up his empty hand. “It’s okay. It was filled with Germans. Probably on the way to the port here.”
“So Operation Cement Mixer happened just in time.” She heaved a sigh. “The war should end soon.”
“Milorg won’t miss us.”
Selby slid off her chair and knelt in front of Teigen. “I am so, so sorry about Tor. I know there’s nothing that will ever replace him in your life.”
