Escape from Archangel: An American Merchant Seaman at War

Just What Were You Doing in Norway?

Just What Were YouDoing in Norway? The senior officer offered Jac a cigarette, lighted up one himself , and while the junior officer got out pen and paper, said, "Suppose you just tell us what you were doing inNorway." Two and a half hours later the junior officer put away his notes. "Quite a lucky fellow, I'd say" The senior officer added, "A most interesting story, Boatswain Smith, most interesting indeed." The British naval officers simply did not believe Jac's story. They did not say so outright, but with cool reserve they told him, "We're afraid you'll have to come with us to the Admiralty . Routine in a case like yours, you know. They'll have a few more questions to ask" O. M. Smith crowded into a small Austin sedan with the officers and their driver, who was a young Wren (Women's Royal Naval Service) in naval uniform. Her presence made him acutely aware of his shabby clothes and ashamed of the fact that he had not had a real bath in a long time. She drove -/53» them to the Admiralty. It was a typical wartime compound, administration buildings, naval barracks, dining hall, all fenced in and patrolled by guards. Smith was ushered into a utilitarian hall, offered another cigarette and a chair, and told to wait there while the two Royal Navy lieutenants went into an office marked "Intelligence." About thirty minutes later Jac was shown into the office, where he was asked to tell his story to the officer in charge. The commander could not believe such an incredible story either. After hot tea was served, he told Jac, "I frankly don't know what to make of you,Boatswain Smith.Here you show up with no papers and the most fantastic story we have ever heard from a seaman. Weare checking with the Yank authorities but so far have turned up nothing. I'm afraid you'll have to go before a board of inquiry. Hope you understand." Jac understood. They thought he might be a spy. He just didn't know what he could do about it. British Naval Intelligence had run into English-speaking German infiltratorsbefore, most with stories that became untraceable at some point. Often they assumed the identity ofa dead person, whose story they knew would check out. If this fellow with his fantastic story was one of them, he could compromise at least one cell of the Shetland Bus,andmaybe several cells of the Resistance. He was assigned a room and allowed to move about within the compound, but he could not leave. A couple of British sailors were assigned to "escort" him. He was taken to another building and shown to a small room and handed a shaving kit and a towel. Down the hall he found a shower. He washed himself and his clothes and dried them on aradiator. Shabby and clean was better than shabby and smelly. He and his shadows had supper in the dining hall that night. -154- Afterward they offered him English cigarettes, a brand labeled Passing Clouds, which had sort of a built-in cigarette holder—not a filter, but a hollow paper mouthpiece. Jac took one, shared a light with one of his escorts, and watched as the mess hall was turned into a movie theater. A screen and projector were set up in the dining hall, and officers and men alike came in to watch a new Greer Garson film. The food had been filling, the movie a renewed taste of a familiar culture , but his full enjoyment of them was limited by the fact that he was still not free, and the nagging thought that, after all he had been through, he might still be detained as a spy— or even hung. He had told his life story, the absolute truth of everything he knew, but no one seemed able to locate any official records to back up his claim that he had sailed with the Russiansto Archangel. The next morningJac was ushered into a conference room for the board of inquiry. He was seated in a chair facing eight or so officers with a British naval captain presiding. They seemed interested, even fascinated, as Boatswain Smith once again told his entire story There were twoWrens present, kept busy running in and out of the room, taking messages handed to them by the various...