This story is partially true based on stories I have heard from relatives (some living in Norway, some living here). The rest is my own imagination. If historical inaccuracies occur, sorry. This is, after all, a story.
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The date was June 15, 1940. The war had just ceased it's raging in my country five days ago. The King of Norway had escaped to England along with our country's gold bullion. From there our people would continue to fight.
The war in France was still raging, but the outcome was very certain. Germany would be the new master of the continent. Only England would stand defiant against Hitler.
My name is Aase Langeland. My Parents, Peder and Hanna Langeland lived here in Kristiansand on the southern tip of Norway when the Germans invaded. I have an older brother, Tryggve, but I learned two weeks ago that the Germans killed him. He was a Norwegian soldier, a soldat. I miss my brother, and I miss my mother. She was killed the day after Tryggve died defending our people. From what I have heard, it was a British bomber that had just dropped its bombs over the water after a German gun battery had hit one of itβs engines and was trying to escape when the German anti-aircraft guns scored a direct hit causing it to crash. It crashed in the downtown area where my mother was shopping. She was killed instantly.
My father who is a Lutheran pastor was in Trondheim at the time, and I have not seen him since.
I was at home alone when the Germans came to our home searching for my father. Short fat German soldier knocked on the door.
"I am looking for Herr Langeland. You will tell me where he is." The German said.
His face a menacing sneer as he looked me up and down. His eyes settled on my breasts.
"He is in Trondheim." I replied embarrassed by his lewd gaze.
"Ja? Then you will come with me." He said and grabbed me by the hand.
"Why?" I shrieked. I was getting ready for the new day when he had knocked on our door.
"You will explain to Gestapo. Come now." The German grabbed my hair and pulled me outside.
There was a truck waiting. Its engine was running and two younger soldiers were guarding the back of the truck.
I was slammed into the tailgate, which had been lowered. It stunned me and I fell to the ground. The German kicked some dirt at me and spit on the ground next to me.
"Into the lorry. Now!" He shouted.
One of the younger soldiers picked me up and helped into the truck.
I looked at him; thankful he had placed himself between the evil Sergeant and me.
"Takk." I said quietly to him.
He smiled and sat on the bench in the back of the truck.
"Kreuger! You are a German soldier, a Fallschirmjager. Do not even so much as utter one little word. These are prisoners and we are soldiers doing our duty. Remember that!" The Sergeant shouted.
"Yes Sergeant." The soldier replied.
I sat down and covered my face. My nose was bleeding and my head hurt. I had hit that tailgate harder then I thought.
A hand to my right touched my shoulder. I turned and looked to see who it was.
"Dreng?" I mouthed the words.
He nodded and took my hand. We remained silent. I was glad, in all of this darkness to see the face of the one person I knew well.
It was Dreng Larsson. We had gone to Gymnasium (high school) together. We had often gone to dances together. He was the only male I had truly had contact with, other then the male members of my family. He was also the first boy I had kissed. If my father had ever found out, he would have forbidden me from seeing Dreng. But my father really liked Dreng. Dreng had done many odd jobs for my father around the church. Fixing this and painting that. Dreng was handy with his hands. My father had always thought it was to do good deeds, but Dreng and I knew that his reason was so he could be near me. We were very close.
The truck slowed down and stopped. Dreng let loose of my hand and looked at the floor. I followed his example and remained expressionless.
The Sergeant barked some orders and the two guards dropped the tailgate and jumped out of the truck. Their rifles at the ready.
"Jeurgens! Guard the truck. Klieg! Come with me. Move!" He barked.
"Dreng...what is going on?" I whispered.
"Aase. They are rounding up all of the ministers in the area. They want your father. They will hold you hostage until he surrenders." He explained.
"And you?" I asked.
"I escaped from Grimli. I was held as a prisoner of war. I was captured two weeks ago. Now I go to be shot." He said, accepting his fate.
"Nooo!" The words escaped from my mouth.
"Silence!" The German sentry stuck his head inside and warned us, "If the Sergeant hears either of you it will be all the worse for you."
Dreng fell silent.
Two shots rang out and I jumped in my seat. A woman screamed and pleaded for her man.
The Germans returned, dragging a Lutheran minister. It was Pastor Vorstett. One of my father's colleagues. His face was bleeding and he was in pain.
"If you try to escape. I will shoot you next time. But not until I have shot your children and then had some fun with your wife." The Sergeant taunted Pastor Vorstett.
The Pastor's wife was pushed roughly into the truck after her husband was pushed inside. He lay on the floor. Obviously in much pain.
"Pastor Vorstett!" I whispered. He looked up at me.
"Aase. Is your father safe?" His words barely audible.
I nodded. Pastor Vorstett closed his eyes. He was praying silently to himself.
The truck drove on for another ten minutes, but swerved and braked very hard.
"Out! Out!" Cried the Sergeant, "Find cover!"
The two soldiers in the back dropped the tailgate and rushed out. We all hurried as a plane circled overhead.
Eric looked up.
"British!" He hissed, "Come!" He took my hand and we dove into a ditch. He landed two meters in front of me as the first bullets from the plane slammed into the ground in front of the truck.
There was a huge explosion and something landed on top of me. I don't know what it was, but I could not breathe. My breath was knocked out of me.
I heard several screams and one of the soldiers fired at the plane. Then there was only silence. Fru Vorstett screamed.
"Lars! Lars!" She cried out.