We Die Alone: A WWII Epic of Escape and Endurance by Stephen E. Ambrose, David Howarth

sound; and the
only navy in the sound was German. It seemed much more likely that
he was a German deserter. Even the toe would have fit that explanation. Everyone had heard of self-inflicted wounds.

    The argument went on for a solid hour, and it only ended then
because Jan could not talk any longer. His speech had got slow and
blurred. He had to sleep. It was a pity, and he was resentful that the
man did not believe him. But he was finished. He had taxed his
endurance too much, and left himself without the strength to get
away. Let him report him if he liked; there was nothing more to be
done about it. He lay down on the rug in front of the kitchen stove.
He heard Lockertsen say: "All right. You can stay there till half-past
five." At that, he fell deeply asleep.
    Lockertsen spent the rest of the night pacing up and down the
kitchen and trying to puzzle things out, and stopping from time to
time to look down at the defenceless, mysterious creature asleep on
his floor. Many of the doubts which had afflicted the shopkeeper
came to him also, and they were strengthened for him by the fact that
the stranger had come from a place where he knew there were
Germans. But Lockertsen was a man of difficult calibre. He had
plenty of courage. He was only determined to get the truth out of
Jan, if he had to do it by force. He was not going to act one way or
the other until he was sure.

    Some time while Jan was sleeping the big man went down on his
knees on the hearthrug and searched through his pockets. There was
nothing in them which gave him a clue, and Jan did not stir.
    He had said he could sleep till 5.30, and at 5.30 he shook him
awake. The result of this surprised him. Jan was subconsciously full
of suspicion, and leapt to his feet and drew his automatic and
Lockertsen found himself covered before he could move.
    "Take it easy, take it easy," he said in alarm. "Everything's all
right." Jan looked round him and saw that the kitchen was empty,
and grinned and said he was sorry.
    "You can't lie there all day," Lockertsen said. "The wife'll be wanting to cook. But I've made up my mind. You can go up in the loft and
have your sleep out, and then we'll see what's to be done with you."
    Jan gratefully did as he told him; and when he woke again in the
middle of the day, refreshed and capable of explaining himself,
Lockertsen's distrust of him soon disappeared. Fru Lockertsen and
their daughter fed him and fussed over him and Lockertsen himself
grew amiable and asked him where he was going. Jan answered
vaguely, "Over the mountains," and Lockertsen offered to take him
part of his way in the motorboat if that would help him.
    Jan's idea of where he was going was really rather vague. By that
time, by process of subconscious reasoning, he had decided to make
for Sweden. He knew he ought to tell London what had happened.
At headquarters they would soon be expecting signals from his
party's transmitter, and they would already be waiting for Brattholm
to get back to Shetland. In a week or two they would give her up as
lost, and when no signals were heard they would probably guess that
the whole party had been lost at sea. No one would ever know,
unless he told them, that he was alive, and sooner or later, in the
autumn perhaps, they would send another party. It would really be
stupid for him to try to work on alone when nobody in England
knew he was there. Any work he could do might clash with a second
party's plans. The proper thing for him to do, he could see, was to get into Sweden and fly back to England and join the second party
when it sailed.

    To go to Sweden was a simple aim. If he kept moving south, he
would be bound to get there in the end. But nobody he had met had
had a map, even of the most misleading sort, and he could only plan
his route from recollection. He was now on the very end of one of the
promontories between the great fjords which run deep into the
northern mountains. To