Sailing through my father's memories

Last month, I met two of the men who attempted to sail with my father in a tiny rowboat across the North Atlantic to evade Nazis and work for Norwegian freedom.

The two men, now 95 and 91, and myself, a former Whitefish resident and daughter of Kaare Hitland who resided in Whitefish from 1952 until his death in 2013, went to the spot along the Norwegian coast where they left on their perilous journey 75 years ago.

I talked with the two hardy men and their families about the attempted journey and of their courage to risk their lives for freedom.

IN JULY OF 1941, Norway had been under German occupation. The Germans had confiscated radios, gave out food ration cards to families, insisted on a blackout of traffic each night, took over newspapers and when the school teachers refused to teach the Nazi curriculum, suspended schools.

Norwegians began to escape to England where they could help with the war efforts and assist resistance fighters working against the Nazis in Norway.

The passage to England was not without peril. The Germans regularly patrolled the coast by air and by sea, shot at not only the people trying to escape but their families as well. They also put mines along the coastline as a deterrent. An added danger, the Gulf Stream collides with the shallow channel waters between the Shetland Island and Norway and is known for creating monumental storms.

None of this proved to be a deterrent to four young men in the summer of 1941. They ranged in ages from 15 to 17. None had any serious sea experience and all were too young to have been recruited for missions to work as resistance fighters.

The four young men, my father, Kaare Hitland, his best friend, Jan Amundsen, and two classmates, Stein Ottersen and Rolf Wik, hatched a plan.

They would steal a rowboat and travel the 135 miles across the North Atlantic to the Shetland Islands. They knew that once they got there, they would be put to work and that fit with their mission to help get rid of the Nazis in Norway.

The three boys turned to an older boy from the neighborhood who had worked as a sailor and was working in a shipyard. Ivar Kristoffersen was 19, seasoned and pragmatic.

In late July of 1941, the four set off from the coast of Norway. They first stole a rowboat, then stole the oars from a Nazi camp next door. Water was put in a used kipper barrel and tins of sardines and kippers were brought along for food.

The boys had a canvas for a mast, but had no way to tear a hole in the canvas, so Ivar pulled out a nail and tore the fabric. No life jackets were brought along either as they had heard there would be good weather while they were on the journey.

The rowboat was leaky so Kristoffersen utilized the remnants he had brought from the ship yard in repairing the boat while the others set about toughening their skins in the salt water.

DURING THE FIRST TWO DAYS, they managed to evade the Nazi planes and even when dog sharks circled their boat, they remained optimistic as the weather was good and a stiff breeze helped the 16-foot rowboat towards its goal.

On the third day, more good luck. A Royal Air Force plane came by them, dipped its wings in recognition of the four boys and they were convinced that an English boat would come to pick them up. Not even seeing an oar and the remnants of a blown up boat or hearing a U-boat submarine below them could deter their enthusiasm.

But late that evening, a fog settled over the sea and the sun lay low on the horizon. Kristoffersen turned to the boys and said, “Well boys, now you get to see what you signed up for.”

A severe storm was barreling towards them.

Over the next three days the little rowboat pitched up against waves over 35 feet high that came in every direction.

“It felt like an elevator going straight up and then slammed down and then a calm at the bottom, only to be pitched another way again and again and again.” Ottersen recalls.

Amundsen had written in his diary after the war was over, “If it was not for the thoughts of family and friends at home, I would wish for this hell to be over.”

Kristoffersen created a sea anchor out of a rucksack and some sticks to help keep the little boat from capsizing.

He commanded the four of them to row, but with seasickness overcoming some of the boys, much of the rowing fell to himself and Ottersen, with Hitland helping as best as he could.

Kristoffersen determined that they had missed the Shetland Islands completely and were actually drifting back to Norway.

In the evening of the sixth day a fishing trawler was heading back to port.

The captain noticed a small boat in the water. He wasn’t sure if it was Nazis or Norwegians as there could be a likelihood of both. Kristoffersen, Hitland and Ottersen were equally cautious.

When the captain came by the boat and asked if they needed help, Amundsen, with what little strength he had left shouted, “Please help us!” The captain, who was sympathetic to the Norwegians, picked up the boys and arranged for them to get help over the next week as they recovered.

Kristoffersen CONTACTED HIS PARENTS, not to let them know that he was alive, but to ask for money for a boat ride home as none of the boys had thought to bring money with them.

The four boys returned to Bergen and resumed their work in the resistance. Kristoffersen and Ottersen became members of group of paratroopers known as Bjorn West. After the war, all received commendations from the King for their bravery.

After the war, the four boys took separate paths. Ottersen and Kristoffersen are best friends to this day — their friendship cemented on that journey. Ottersen moved to Oslo and Ivar remained in Bergen.

Amundsen joined the Royal Air Force, but sadly was killed in a training accident in 1947. He was 23.

Hitland moved to the United States in 1952 and settled in Whitefish working as a locomotive engineer for Burlington Northern and living on the shores of Whitefish Lake.

WHILE MY FATHER talked of the journey and how Kristoffersen’s coolness under pressure saved them, Kristoffersen talked little of his journey, as he viewed it as a failure. It was not until 15 years ago that his children and grandchildren began to hear of his service to his country.

When I met him, he told me that he didn’t like talking about it.

I reminded him that he was in no small part the reason that she was alive because he had saved my father’s life.

Ottersen too had talked little of the journey, but once prompted, told his family and friends stories that had remained buried for nearly three quarters of a century.

For myself though, the meeting was one of the best days of my life.