Aircrash of Mustang Mk.Ia FD554 piloted by 2nd Lieutenant Jan Gert von Tangen (Fenrick rank in the Norwegian Royal Air Force). A Norwegian reserve volunteer pilot with the Royal Air Force, and a member of 168 Squadron from the 2nd TAC ( Tactical Air Force); this young pilot had joined the squadron on August 25th 1943 coming from Old Sarum base in Wiltshire near Salisbury. Training flying school for tactical reconnaissance from 41 OUT (Operation Training Unit).

The RAF 168 Squadron had been created in Snailwell near Cambridge, England on June 15th 1942. In June 1943 it rejoined Odiham base in Hampshire where it was equipped with Mustang Mk.Ia (P-51 Mustang, an American fighter plane designed by North American Aviation) and it became operational for photographic reconnaissance missions and anti-raid missions over enemy territory. The pilots from this unit came from the British Commonwealth, occupied countries from which these young men had fled from at the beginning of the war as well as from countries fighting against the Axis forces. They were eager to fight for Freedom and continued to enlist throughout the war. This youthfulness was also expressed a dream for adventure. More often than not their illusions were brought to naught by the hardship involved in warfare ; and unfortunately so were the lives of a great number of them.

In July 1943 the Squadron joined Thruxton base in Hampshire (about 100 km south west of London) where it was entrusted by the staff with a general investigation mission over the northern part of the French territory; the main target was to take photos of important strategic sites such as bridges, buildings, air-fields, harbour installations and so on… It was also entrusted with armed reconnaissance missions called ‘Rhubarb’ whose targets would be appraised a by squadron or flight leader on missions that had been established beforehand by the staff. Seven months before the start of Overlord Operation missions increased so that the pilots often had several reconnaissance missions to perform each day, weather permitting. They had to strike the enemy hard and also establish his whereabouts over occupied territory in order to destroy him and keep him from moving.

The Mustang I was a fighter aircraft manufactured in the USA by North American Aviation (its factories were located in Los Angeles, California and Dallas, Texas); it was acquired by the British through leasing. 618 aeroplanes (including 93 Mustangs) being released and allocated to numbers 2, 63,170,268, 516 and 168 Squadrons. This single engine fighter was equipped with a side-photographic device (one or 2 K24 cameras), that was fixed behind the pilot’s headrest; when activated it could provide five very high definition snapshots of strategic targets spotted during a flight or defined as main targets.

Moreover the plane was equipped with a gun camera coupled with the side guns. Opening fire meant that the camera started working; it was fixed on the extreme end of the left wing. So it was possible to view an attack after a mission. The British had asked for Mustang P-51 Ia to be equipped with four, twenty-millimetre Hispano Suiza guns in each wing, which gave it a very powerful strike force, as did, its 1710-87 Allison engine rating of, 1250 cc’s with 12 V

shaped cylinders which gaive it high performance with a 600 km ph maximum speed. When empty the plane weighed 3175 kg in addition to the weight of the fuel (in big tanks), of the ammunition and sometimes of the payload of a 250 kg bomb under the plane (which was not the case during 2nd Lieutenant von Tangen’s mission).

On Sunday October 31st 1943 at 3 p.m ( English time), Flying Officer Desmond Alan Cliffton-Mog takes off from Thruxton base in his Mustang Ia registered FD488. His team mate is 2nd Lieutenant Jan Gert von Tangen who is also piloting a Mustang Ia registered as FD554. N coded. They know each other well and have just been on several training missions together. Over British territory which have gone off well. This time they are off on a photographic mission called ‘Poplard’ which consists (while taking photos) of one or two airmen wwatching out in case of an enemy bomb attack and leaving the other to operate safely. Today they have been instructed to photograph the viaducs and bridges between Le Vivier-sur-Mer ( Ille et Vilaine) and Evran ( in the former Côtes d’Armor), both towns being located in the north of Brittany. This photographic mission is meant to bring snapshots of major civil engineering works along the main roads and railways of the area and especially of the Dinan viaduct at the far south of the Rance estuary. Each camera can only take 250 views.

Photographic equipment of a Mustang Mark. Ia

 

At the beginning of the flight they rendez-vous with two other Mustang Ia from 260 Squadron which are based in Odiham in Hampshire and piloted by Flight Lieutenants Lambert and Smith. They don’t have the same mission; they will fly across the Channel together and split up into two groups and head at high altitude for Roye in the Somme; then, after flying at low altitude they will have to be doubly careful to avoid anti- aircraft gunfire and thus be able to photograph the works along the Paris-Lille railway.

The four Mustang fly together. Flight Lieutenant Cliffton-Mog who is the leader has decided on the course and has informed his mates. The four of them are under their superior’s authority, Flying Officer Trevor Eyre Drew Mitchell from 268

Squadron who has given them orders as to their respective missions. They are heading for Portland Bill and its lighthouse set in the southern end of the peninsular. Portland Bill is located south of Weymouth, Dorset in England.  

Flying Officer Desmond Alan Clifton-Mogg. (DFC)

 

The flight goes off in good conditions in favourable weather. The four airmen fly 5 miles (over 7km) over the western coast of Guernsey. They have to avoid anti-aircraft firing defences that have been set in great number by the Germans along the seacoast. They come rapidly in sight of the Breton coast. The group is now heading for the beach of the Verger, north of Cancale ( lle et Vilaine) while gaining altitude to avoid any enemy firing. As expected the group splits up, the airmen communicating by radio and flying towards their respective targets.

Lieutenants Cliffton-Mog and von Tangen immediately swoop down to Le Vivier-sur-Mer where they can spot the so-called Angoulême bridge over the river from the Dol marshes to the sea along the coast. They take a photograph and then head for Dol de Bretagne, not staying there long to fly on to Dinan and take several snapshots of the impressive viaduct.

Angoulême Bridge in Vivier-sur-Mer

Dinan viaduc

 

The mission is soon over, the return flight being first westwards and then northwards. One hour and a half earlier they had left England when suddenly tragedy struck. Here is what Lieutenant Cliffton-Mog wrote in his report about his flight back: everything was going off well. Our mission was over. We were flying at average altitude and were 6 miles west of Dol ( he is wrong on this point; he mistook Dol for Dinan given the crash-point) when suddenly my mate’s plane ( 2nd Lieutenant von Tangen’s) banked and swooped on the left, rapidly losing altitude and crashed in a meadow. Everything happened so fast. It was 4.15 pm. I was amazed by such a sudden fall. There were no enemy fighters around us. He didn’t send me any message on the radio. As far as I knew there was no anti air-raid defence point nor any shooting. If there had been any I would have been a target, too. I can’t make out what happened. After flying over the crash-point area I made up my mind to get back straight on heading for the eastern parts of Cap Fréhel and to my base in Thruxton where I landed at 7.20 pm. 2nd Lieutenant von Tangen was reported missing.

 

Photo of Jan Gert

2nd Lieutenant von Tangen met his death in this accident. He was 26 years old. It was his first mission over enemy territory. He had taken part in several missions training in England, including one on October 22nd 1943 for a test flight with Lieutenant Cliffton-Mog who was testing how much fuel Mustang consumed. They flew over 1000 km together. Three days later on October 25th he was off on a one hour photographic reconnaissance mission at twilight over England. On that day he was with Flight Lieutenants Cormack and Hussey.

Saint Méloir-des-Bois. Sunday, October 31st 1943. Madame Odette Buard’s testimony It seems to me that it all happened on All Saints’day in 1943 during the afternoon. We were attending a religious service in Saint Méloir church when suddenly we heard a crash and then all was silent. It was wartime. We all asked ourselves what was wrong. After the service the news went round. I was told that a plane had crashed near Ville Rue. We were living in this village. We hurried back home. Actually the plane had crashed in Couavra woods nearby. The Germans were already in the area. My mother had decided that we should get the cows back by walking along footpaths to be safer. The following day we heard that the Germans had captured all the young people who had been to the place as soon as they arrived at the crash-point. There was also an adult in the group. They were taken to Dinan, kept for a few hours and set free again on the next day. It was impossible to visit the place because German sentries were keeping watch. Three days later, late in the evening Joseph Hervé was told to get the body of the poor pilot that had been left at the crash-point, using, his horse and cart. The dead man was said to be an Englishman. I also remember that the farmer had taken his torchlight with him. When the cart arrived in Ville Rue it was dark. The men heaved the coffin into our house and laid it on one of our benches. We had not seen the pilot’s body because it was wrapped with a cloth. A second coffin had been provided but to no purpose. The lid was screwed in. The Germans were attending. At the end one of them suggested they had a drink before leaving. My mother served them a snifter. The coffin was brought out and put into a German car. We never knew where the occupying forces had buried it. The following days the Germans discarded the remains of the plane. On the spot where it had crashed there was a big gap that was later filled in.

The reason for the crash in Saint Méloir-des-Bois (at that time it was in Côtes d’Armor) was never cleared up.

Within the context of Weserübung operation that aimed at invading Denmark and Norway, the Germans wanted to have control over the sea trade of Swedish steel that they needed so much.

The German army invaded on April 9th 1940 and started to spread out over Norwegian territory. On June 10th Norway was occupied, the country had surrendered, the King and his family had gone into voluntary exiled. In the face of such a tragic situation part of the population who refused occupation was thinking of leaving the country or organizing resistance. Some had already moved to the U.K during the previous months on seeing the turn of events in Europe. They decided to set out at the harbours on the eastern coast of England, which was the only place and also the nearest one that was still free despite Hitler’s blitzkrieg which luckily failed.

Numerous seafaring escape networks were set up from Norway. Some had already been in proper use for months. The sea crossings were uncertain because it often took two or three days with the unknown factors due to rough weather in the North Sea. Some escapees met with a tragic end. Many were captured by the German Navy and brought back to Norway. More often than not they were sentenced to death or transported to Germany. Others went down with all hands when their boats were shipwrecked.

On March 30 th 1941 a fishing boat named Bovag ( registered M 146G) owned by Mr Vardseth is about to escape at night. It is anchored in Alesund, a harbour town located 230 km north of Bergen. At nightfall 12 men in a small boat boarded the boat very discreetly. They were all longing for escape. Among them was Jan Gert vonTangen who was also resisting the tragedy from which his mother country was suffering. He wanted to play an active part in returning his country to liberty ; that’s why he belonged to the group and was keen to continue the struggle. After a smooth crossing that lasted for 50 hours the boat landed at Lerwick harbor in the Shetland Islands off the coast of Scotland on April 2nd 1941.

The "Bovag" The painter of this picture is Harald BLINHEIM and owner M. Arne VADSETH - ''Norvegian merchant fleet'' 1939 1945

 

Photo of Jan Gert  

 

The crash of the plane on Sunday October 31st 1943 in Saint-Méloir-des-Bois remains an enigma to the witnesses that have been met so far. The question is still unanswered : “ Why did the Germans arrive on the spot so rapidly while the place was a deserted one?” This event has to be put back in its context. Indeed the Germans were roaming the area on that Sunday. They had arrived early in the morning. A column had been called in from Dinan as reinforcements and was combing through several villages for resistance fighters. The reason for this big operation was that a soldier in charge of mail delivery from Vlassov army had been found dead in a sunken lane near the road from Bourseul to Plancoët on Saturday morning October 30 th 1943. On Sunday 31st October in Bourseul the occupying forces surrounded the village and arrested over 100 inhabitants. About 100 hostages were kept in custody for one day in the village school and were then transferred to Dinan before being set free on the following day at the end of the afternoon. Both events occurred on the same day but one can’t infer that the crash of 2nd Lieutenant von Tangen’s Mustang was ascribed to the presence of the Germans.

Saint-Méloir-des-Bois. Sunday October 31st 1943. Madame Lemenager Marie’s testimony   We were living in Ville Bagot en Bourseul where my parents were farmers. It all happened on a Sunday in the afternoon at the end of October in 1943; my father aged 39 was outdoors when suddenly he spotted a plane that was falling. Without telling my mother he made up his mind to go to the scene right away. He headed for Saint Méloir and was the first to arrive on the scene; he was helpless in assisting the poor pilot who had died in the accident. Later on he was arrested by the Germans and ordered to stay at the place. We were all worried at home. My mother kept asking :” Where has he gone? He may have been killed”. We were unaware that the plane had crashed. The night went on in anguish. The following morning Monsieur Oliver from Breuil en Plélan le Petit came home. He told us that my father had been taken to Dinan with his son and four other mates. He also told us we had to wait for news to come. We were all worried. Dad and the other young people came back the following day in the afternoon. They had been set free. Mr Fleury Sr drove them back in his cart. Dad had bought some bread from the baker’s at the edge of Dinan. They were all starving. We rejoiced over Dad’s return. I was fifteen.   Saint Méloir-des-Bois. 31st October 1943. Mr Olivier’s testimony. Plélan le Petit   I was living in Breuil en Plélan le Petit and during the afternoon of Sunday October 31st 1943, on the eve of All Saints’ Day I was told by friends that a plane had crashed nearby. I decided to go there on my own, straight away. After walking through the countryside heading for the crash-point (that is 800 meters) I sneaked behind an embankment and caught sight of a man standing near the burnt-out plane. The plane was jabbed into the ground of the meadow along the lane. It seemed to me that the man was not alone; I wouldn’t see well who he was with. I didn’t insist and came back home to the village where I met other friends who persuaded me to take them to the spot. Off we went to the crash-point that was located in Saint Méloir-des-Bois. Our group was composed of Pierre Fleury (13), Victor Réhel (19), Mari-Ange Fairier (14), Emile Benoit (15) and of course, myself who was leading them. We were living in Breuil. I was sixteen. My friend Pierre Fleury was with his dog named ‘Coco’. When I arrived near the embankment we walked on cautiously when suddenly several German soldiers appeared and started firing into the air except for one who shot the poor dog dead on the embankment. It was a real surprise. We had not expected this to happen. We were scared. The Germans made us put our hands up. They took us to the meadow, not far from the burnt-out plane and there they made us lie down flat on the ground. We had recognized François Delamotte who had been arrested before us. He was the man I had caught sight of when I first came to the spot and at that time had probably been kept under guard by one or two sentries. He was older than us, in his forties. He was ordered to lie flat on the ground, too. I must add that we had been body searched before and that they had found out brass wires on me with which I happened to lay snares for hares. These wires were detrimental to me and I underwent a thorough interrogation in Dinan. We had been lying flat on the ground for a long time and it was getting cold. The rain had started falling. We were soaked and it was getting dark. When it was dark The Germans made us stand up. My belt was removed. Under escort we headed for the muddy way that leads to Saint Méloir. My trousers kept falling down. After walking a distance that seemed quite long we made our way for the Castle yard in Ville Rue. The six of us were ordered to lie down flat on the ground in one corner of the yard. The ground was very damp and the rain had kept falling. We remained there for about one hour. Then the Germans made us get into a lorry. There were armed soldiers with us. We were driven to the guardroom of the Kommandantur in Dinan.   Kommandantur Dinan which was located at 29 Rue de Brest "Coll. Museum Yvonne Jean-Haffen-House Artist Great vine-Dinan. "The title of the work is 1942 visit to kommandantur - Inv.Number DG.55   We underwent an interrogation in turn. Mine was brutal because I had been caught with these brass wires on; the Germans were wondering what they could be used for. I kept silent. I was kicked in the backside violently. Some policemen came round to take us to the police headquarters in the town-hall. I also remember that one of the German officers spoke our language fluently. The next day six policemen took us back to the Kommandantur to undergo an interrogation. We had not been given any food for one day. At the police headquarters we were only given a coffee and a piece of dry bread. The inhabitants had been moved by our arrest. The Mayor of Plélan le Petit, Mr Joseph Lefort had been asked by the Germans to stand surety for us; he claimed that we were no terrorists, contrary to what the Germans suspected. We were released at the end of the morning. Mr Pierre Fleury, our mate’s father drove us back in his cart. We had a piece of bread Martin’s (bakery) in L’Aublette en Quévert because Mr Delamotte had a little money. This sad episode is forever engraved in my memory.     In this spot in Malouinière City Street, 6 young men were selected before their departure to the Kommandantur Dinan     Saint Méloir-des-Bois Sunday October 31st 1943. Mr Pierre Fleury’s testimony from Plélan Le Petit   On that Sunday in the afternoon I was in our fields near Breuil en Plélan Le Petit where we were living. I was looking after the cows. Besides the herd I was with my dog named Coco. A big black dog, a faithful companion who followed me close on my heels. During the afternoon in the clear sky towards Dinan I caught sight of two planes looping up and down. It went on for a few minutes. I imagined the airmen were having an air battle. It was wartime. From where I was standing I could not hear anything. Then all was silent. They had disappeared. At the end of the afternoon I came back home with my herd. Some friends came round to tell me that a plane had crashed nearby and that they intended to go to the place. A neighbour, Albert Olivier knew about the crash-point. So off we went together. There was Victor Rehel (aged 19), Marie-Ange Fairier (14), Emile Benoît (15), Albert Olivier (16) and myself. I was the youngest, aged 13. We walked in the countryside for about 800 to 900 meters. When we came nearer to the meadow where the plane had crashed we moved on cautiously. When we came to the embankment, the Germans who must have heard us coming, popped up and started to fire in the air except for one who shot my dog dead as he came to the top of the embankment. We were scared. A group of friends who were following us some hundred meters behind took to their heels when they heard the firing. The soldiers beckoned us come nearer and to put our hands up. They searched us and made us lie down flat on the ground. They had already arrested François Delamotte who had been to the place just after the crash. We heard them speak but didn’t understand what they were saying. They were many. An old man who was walking along a lane at the end of the meadow with his children was arrested. After much talking they let him carry on with the children. I could hear but couldn’t see what was going on since I was lying flat on the ground. We were in a most uncomfortable position because of the wet grass; we knew that the rain had started to pour down for a while. Night was coming. We were ordered to stand up. We walked to the opening in the field and then walked with the neighbouring cartage to Saint Méloir. It was pitch- dark and the rain was still falling. It was the eve of All Saints’ Day. I remember losing one of my shoes in the muddy lane. I had to walk on over one kilometer like that until we came to the Castle yard in Ville Rue. The six of us were standing in one corner of the yard. The Germans ordered us to lie down flat on the ground, again. It was very hard. After a long while we were told to stand up and get into a truck. The truck moved off after the armed soldiers had got into it at the rear. The German officer who had given orders as to our arrest had got into the front next to the driver. This officer was very tall, lean and rigid. We didn’t know where they were driving us. After a half hour’s drive the truck pulled off outside the Kommandantur in Dinan which was located in Brest Street. We got off and were taken to the guardroom; there, we were ordered to sit down on benches along the wall. We were interrogated, each in turn. One of the officers spoke French. An officer came to have a talk with the one who had arrested us. They raised their voices. We didn’t understand what they were saying but we knew that the commander was not satisfied. With a terse voice he ordered the officer to stand to attention facing the wall. He remained in that position throughout our interrogation. Maybe he was blamed for having acted thus. After the interrogation we were taken back to the guardroom. After a long time spent in that gloomy place, six agents from the police headquarters in Dinan came to get us. We were handcuffed. When the German officer who spoke French saw me handcuffed he immediately ordered to have my handcuffs removed (I was the only one). We walked to the police station in the town hall. It was late. We were hungry. We slept on the ground in a room. It was very hard. The next day after going back to the Kommandantur to undergo another interrogation, we were given a coffee. As I had only one shoe on, a policeman brought me a pair of slippers. My interrogation was difficult because the officer who was questioning me pulled out a gun and pressed it on my chest. I was scared. Did he want to impress me? I don’t know. The Germans got in touch with the mayor of Plélan Le Petit about us. He had stood surety for us, claiming that we were not terrorists. The officer spoke to us and told us that we were going to be freed and could get back home. Indeed we were freed at the end of the morning on Monday November 1st 1943. The six of us walked up to Brest Street to Plélan. Walking past Martin’s (bakery) in L’Aublette en Quévert, Mr Delamotte bought some bread. He had a little change left in his pockets. This was a great comfort because we were starving. Our group walked on to Plancoët Road because it was forbidden to walk near an airfield; the roads were under guard. So we walked to Aucaleuc village. After crossing the village we walked on to the Dinan-Lamballe trunk road. My father had been told that we had been freed and decided to go and meet us. He had taken our cart. As he came to Vaucouleur hillock he pulled up because he saw us in the distance. It was about 2 p.m. Our horse kept neighing until we met. I stroked him when I came up and he stopped neighing. He was a nice Breton post horse; he was slender and we used to call him ‘Blond’ owing to the colour of his coat. I have always thought about it and found his reaction puzzling. We all went into the cart. In Plélan we drove past the church where the people had been attending All Saints’Day Vespers. We were so happy to see our village and families again. On the following days the Germans came to dismantle and retrieve the remains of the burnt-out plane. Nosey as I was, from a distance I climbed up an apple-tree (and so did a friend) to see what was going on. We had heard the noise of the sledgehammers pounding the metal bits and pieces. To fill in the gap that had been made by the crash some men from the neighbourhood were requisitioned. One of them told us later that he had buried our dog in the gap.

The jack plug on Jan Gert’s helmet that was found at the crash-point

 

Flight Lieutenant Cliffton-Mog’s mission report (he was his team mate) does not mention any possible shooting targeted at them because he had viewed his mate’s crash-point before deciding to fly back to his base.

Mr Robert Buard’s testimony casts new light on it all; his father said that on that Sunday in October 1943 he had seen the plane flying at low altitude near Testro village close to Saint Méloir-des-Bois with a trail of smoke. He had thought: ‘that one won’t go a long way’. Monsieur Joseph Jouffe gave us another testimony; he reported that on that Sunday afternoon in 1943 he was looking after his cows in a meadow in Lieuraie village and was having a talk with his aunt Madame Marie Jouffe when suddenly, above their heads they saw a plane that was flying at low altitude heading for the woods of Ville Rue and that they had heard a big muffled sound from the crash of the plane. At the end of the afternoon the Germans arrested 6 young men who had been to the crash-point. (see testimonies in the Appendix). Today from the investigation about the crash of 2nd Lieutenant von Tangen’s plane we would suggest that he was fatally shot as he flew past Dinan-Trélivan airfield.

 

The Mustang before its fall crossed the airspace between the villages of Lieurais and Tertro

 

Dinan/Trélivan Airfield prewar

 

Dinan Airfield, between the soldier and in the background, a piece of Flak

 

 

From July 1943 this second rank airfield (registered B28XII- in command in Laval, Mayenne) was occupied by the first and third platoons from Leich Flak Abteilung 912 that operated 6 twenty-mm items called Flak 30 or 38. Its strength involved 63 men together with 77 soldiers from B28/XII Fliegerhorstplatzkommando who had 5 heavy machine guns. If they had heard that planes from the allied forces had been in Dinan area, these gunners would have been rapidly alerted and, ready to shoot. The plane was leaving a trail of smoke behind. It was not smoke but the tank full of glycol (coolant) that had been shell-holed and had started to leak and with the speed of the aircraft would leave a trail behind. This high capacity glycol tank was in the lower part under the engine which made Mustang vulnerable. If the engine had caught fire when the plane crashed, the whole plane would have been set on fire owing to the large quantity of gasoline that was left in the tanks. This was not the case.

2nd Lieutenant von Tangen didn’t send any message. When they were shot at, airmen would tell their mates and would fly at a higher altitude to be able get out of the cockpit and parachute down. Unfortunately this didn’t apply in this case. The plane was in distress flew on for about 10 km. Flight Lieutenant Cliffton-Mog didn’t apply in this that the plane had been hit because he was flying about 1,8 km north of his mate. 2nd Lieutenant von Tangen was buried by the occupying forces on November 3rd 1943 in the British square in Dinard cemetery. They informed the Red Cross International Committee about his death and burial place. In the early days of September 1946 a delegation composed of the Norwegian Royal Air Force and the pilot’s mother went to Dinard to have the body exhumed and transferred to Vestre Gravelund cemetery in Oslo, Norway.

 

Vestre Cemetery gravlund in Oslo

 

24.3.43 My own dearest little brother,     It's now been six months since your last letter, it seems like ages - we live for your letters. My thoughts are always with you, the loss of you never goes away - an empty room that can never be filled. I'm okay. So why be unhappy? It's a rotten life we humans construct for ourselves. What's all this sorrow and loss good for? It goes without saying that I'll fight to the last breath for our cause, this cause which you know so well. "Fight for everything you love, die if you have to..." That's the motto most of us go by.       8.7.43   My own dearest brother,   Not long ago (two months or so) I received a letter from my Swedish friend Tore, who met up with you. It was both unbelievable and marvellous to get such up to date news of you. You perhaps know my plans - it won't be long I think before we meet. There are all sorts of problems right now - you know about that. I should have got away ages ago, but there's been a constant stream of problems that have got in the way. I'm looking forward like mad to seeing you again, I hardly dare think about it, I'm dizzy just at the thought.   You can't imagine the spring we've had this year and if you were to take a little trip up to Riis you would be greeted at the gate with the almost overwhelming scent of jasmine. You'd see how the espaliered plums have crept right up to the window of the snug, so when the time comes we'll be able to just reach out and pick them right then and there. On the lawn behind the house the potatoes are already in blossom and you'd be amazed to see how large the vegetable garden has become. It's such fun watching everything growing and changing every day; I'm a professional gardener now, almost! The peas and beans and carrots are growing marvellously this year and the cabbage, celery and leeks are coming on, down where the compost used to be. And we've got something extra in the garden since you were last here - a chicken run, with four sweet little chicks. It's such fun. Our previously magnificent rose beds are now full of cabbages and look a bit peculiar.   But on the other side of the fence we have something considerably less neighbourly: Germans bawling and screaming and staring each time we so much as show our faces in the garden. The Haugens' house has been requisitioned. The house on the corner belonging to the doctor was also taken, but then given a reprieve. We were in the firing line as well and were very anxious about it, but we've got away with it, this time at least.   Come into the house now - you know it's always so delightful in the summer when the whole house is open and the wind's playing with the curtains in the drawing room and there are flowers everywhere, especially round the pictures of you and Dad. Otherwise, nothing's been changed since you were home, though I think you'll see a difference in Mother. I think she's looks rather older since Father's death.   Jorgen is helping a friend with his business: most of his factory workers are in jail or doing forced labour. Jorgen hasn't been called up yet...   My dearest boy, you know we are always thinking of you. Mother and Agnes send you heaps of love. A thousand hugs and kisses from your little sister.   28.7.43 My own dearest brother,   Now I've fetched up here, where most of our countrymen end up, sooner or later. Circumstances meant that I had to leave, I'd got myself involved a bit too deeply, so - here I am. All of a sudden I was given notice that I had to go undercover and a couple of days later I left. Conditions at home are dreadful, it's been three long, sad years, it's felt as though we've been standing still. But even so, it's been such a rich, such a fantastic time that I'm happy just to have experienced such wonderful solidarity and such selflessness. I've met so many truly valuable people throughout this time, who give one a lasting belief and assurance that we'll overcome all the difficulties that lie ahead of us in the years to come.   I've been with Smit-Kielland today. And with other high up gents as well. There'll be no problem about finding something to do almost immediately. But my brain's still spinning with all the new impressions and I've had precious little sleep since the day I went undercover. My head goes round and round. This is my first day in Stockholm and I can't say you get any sense of our being very welcome in this town....It looks as though it's going to be possible to get over to you and you can't imagine how I'm looking forward to it. I can't believe it's truly going to happen. It was frightful saying goodbye to Mother. She's been so brave - so brave the whole time, but I can't forget that little thin, black figure blinking back her tears. My thoughts fly back all the time to the three at home. Jorgen is so very kind to us all, but he's not happy. Just longs to do something positive and wishes himself far, far away. But he won't break the promise he made Father on his deathbed about not leaving Mother.   It was a terrible feeling to be an outlaw in one's own country. I stole around like a thief in the night. But I also have so much that's good to think about, in spite of all the bitterness, and the knowledge that I can go on working for our country from here as a free person makes all this extravagance bearable. There's an overabundance of everything here, it's just like being plonked down in the land of milk and honey. Street lights, shop windows full of all sorts of groceries - you can imagine how I've stuffed myself with cakes and chocolate on this first day here in Stockholm. It's peacetime here! People just don't understand the situation in Norway, they just think we're exaggerating when we describe dreadful things. But money doesn't last long here and I'm worried that it won't be so easy.   I've got so much I want to talk to you about, the tears just constantly pour down my cheeks when I think that I might actually see you. I am so happy.   The reception centre at Kjesaeter Castle was a real experience - a first class institution. And all the prisoners get a wonderful welcome. It's like a little bit of the homefront. But otherwise it's rubbish being a refugee, you feel homeless in spite of all the well-meaningness. But it'll get better - after all, it is the first day.   This letter's a mess, but it's just that my thoughts are all over the place and it's midnight already. I've got a busy day in front of me tomorrow, will be running from one office to another in order to get a permit to stay etc.   Mother sends you deepest love, of course. And Jorgen and Agnes also. Other than that, no one knows of my departure. Write to me, please. Either to the Royal Norwegian Legation...or to Mrs Elin Hansson... I sent you a telegram today. Look after yourself and write as soon as you can. Lots and lots of love.   Erna