CALL IT “CHARACTER”

NOVEMBER 30, 2020 – Unless you’re Norwegian, you’ve probably never heard of Jan Baalsrud. I hadn’t until the Netflix movie, The 12^th Man. As I later learned from a 2016 New York Times magazine article, the film accurately portrays actual events. (The scenery’s out-of-this-world . . . because it’s in Norway.)

Baalsrud was part of Kompani Linge, Norwegians trained for special ops by the Allies in WW II. After preparations in the UK, Baalsrud and 11 others boarded a fishing boat in Scotland and steamed to the north end of Norway. Their mission: blow up the German airfield at Bardufoss, south of Tromsø.

Unfortunately, on-the-ground information was dated. The contact at the landing point was supposed to be a particular shopkeeper; turned out the shop had been sold to a new guy with the very same name. After two of the commandos went ashore and made contact, the (new) shopkeeper, suspecting that his visitors were Germans pretending to be Norwegians and testing local loyalties, reported the commandos—to the Germans.

The Germans attacked Kompani Linge’s vessel. With sensitive information—and TNT—aboard, the commandos blew up the boat by a timed explosion after jumping into the icy waters of Toftefjørd. The Germans soon rounded up all except . . . Baalsrud.

Soaking wet and having lost a boot in his swim to shore, Baalsrud was chased by three Germans. He climbed up a ravine for cover—and to dislodge ice from his revolver. He then ambushed his pursuers—killing one, wounding another, and sending the third into retreat.

For the next nine weeks, with the aid of compatriots in remote outposts of the Norwegian north, Baalsrud barely eluded capture, once nearly killing himself in an avalanche to avoid a strafing German plane. In cold and snow, he suffered to extremes. When gangrene claimed several toes, he self-amputated them. Weak and non-ambulatory, he had to be nursed from the edge of death, hidden, then hauled by sled over mountains—all by intrepid rescuers who put their own lives at risk for aiding a fugitive.

Baalsrud crossed to ultimate safety thanks to clever thinking by Sami herdsmen, who lashed him to a sled and tied it to the strongest reindeer of their herd. They then stampeded the animals past German sentries near the Swedish border. Meters from safety, the sled came undone and crashed to a halt—whereupon the Germans realized what was up. As they closed in, Baalsrud summoned his last ounce of strength to right the sled and grab the loose end of the rope tied to the reindeer, which had rounded back. The animal then ran like hell into Sweden, saving Baalsrud . . . and giving Norway a burst of encouragement.

By survival against unfathomable odds, Baalsrud became a national hero. In the tradition of heroes, he said he wasn’t one. Grateful to the brave souls who’d risked their own lives to save his, he later asked that his ashes be buried among his rescuers. His wish was granted after he died in 1988.

Call it “character.”

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© 2020 by Eric Nilsson