Neuengamme, Germany
Count Bernadotte and Anders Berger walked through the Neuengamme concentration camp under the machine gun towers accompanied by the SS camp commander Obersturmbannführer Max Pauly and his assistant. They entered the administration building and were invited to sit down in a staff room under the unsmiling portrait of Adolf Hitler. An adjutant brought in a tea service and placed it in front of the visitors.
“What exactly are you interested in seeing, Herr Bernadotte?” Pauly asked as the adjutant left the room.
“We’re interested in your Scandinavian prisoners. Do you have prisoner lists so we can go over them?” Bernadotte asked.
“Of course, Herr Bernadotte,” Pauly said, gesturing for his assistant to fetch them. “We can show you the lists, but I don’t think there are many Scandinavian prisoners here.”
“What about the work camps, Obersturmbannführer?”
“I really wouldn’t know,” Pauly replied.
“How many work camps are we talking about?” Anders asked.
“We have around one hundred Baubrigade (construction labour brigades) in different locations.”
“One hundred!” Anders exclaimed.
“They are all over Northern Germany, sir.”
Pauly’s assistant returned with a large record book and opened it on the table.
“Here you go,” Pauly said, “these are the lists for Neuengamme. See for yourselves.”
Bernadotte turned the pages of the record book as Anders looked on. There were literally thousands of names.
“This is volume 25,” Anders said, “how many volumes do you have?”
“There are some thirty volumes, sir,” replied the assistant.
“How many prisoners?” Anders asked.
“The record books contain over 100,000 names, sir.”
Anders was clearly impressed by the huge number of prisoners and the camp organization.
“The names here are for 1943,” Bernadotte noted.“ They are not in alphabetical order nor by citizenship or origin.”
“We put a name in the book each time a new prisoner arrives, sir,” remarked the assistant.
“What is this column with the ‘t’?” Bernadotte asked.
“Sie sind tot, Herr Bernadotte,” the assistant replied. “These are prisoners who died in the camp.”
“We’ve lost many prisoners to sickness,” Pauly said.
Bernadotte and Anders were shocked by the number of names with ‘t’s next to them.
“A lot of prisoners have died here,” Anders said.
“Yes, it is very unfortunate,” Pauly replied.
“How many prisoners are present in the camp now?” Anders asked.
“We have around 12,000 prisoners at the moment,” Pauly said. “We can help you identify your people, but as I say, you will not find too many.”
“How many prisoners are in the Baubrigade?” Anders asked.
“We have around 37,000 prisoners in the work camps,” the assistant said.
“They are processed here at Neuengamme before being sent out to the work camps,” Pauly said. “A doctor sees them so we know they are healthy. Would you like to see our medical ward, Herr Bernadotte?”
“Of course, Obersturmbannführer.”
Pauly and his assistant led Bernadotte and Anders out of the administration offices and across the road to the medical ward. The place was spotless and clearly, a mise en scène had been put on for the Swedes’ benefit. Several doctors and nurses were waiting to show them around.
Bernadotte and Anders shook hands with the senior doctor and began their visit. The doctor described the medical problems of each patient as they went from bed to bed.
Kapellskar, Sweden
At the cottage, bullets slammed into the walls, smashing picture frames and windows. Mads grabbed a Suomi submachine gun from a gun rack and handed another to the colonel, who pushed Peter towards a trapdoor in the floor. Hallamaa lifted the door and slid down the steps, followed by Peter, the distraught Swedish cook, and Mads. In the dark basement, the colonel lit the wick of an oil lamp and they headed into a tunnel, leading away from the house. The cottage had once belonged to Swedish smugglers who used the house to hide illicit goods brought in by fishing boats from Finland and Estonia.
On the main floor Hendrik went from one window to the next, firing wildly. He then followed the others into the tunnel, slamming the trapdoor shut behind him. Mads led the way down the tunnel, which opened into a boathouse some fifty yards from the cottage. One at a time, they climbed a ladder into the boathouse. Once inside, Mads and Hendrik left to engage the attackers while the colonel, the cook and Peter slipped out a side door and made a run for the dock. Mads and Hendrik worked their way around the cottage to attack the NKVD agents from behind.
At the dock, the colonel jumped into a wooden motorboat and started the engine while Peter helped the cook climb in and threw aside the lines. The motor turned over almost instantly with a gurgling sound and they quickly headed out to sea. The colonel skilfully steered the craft through a cluster of ice floes before turning south towards Kapellskar. On the shore, the exchange of gunfire around the cottage was intense.
“I’m sorry about that, Klara,” the colonel said. “They must have followed Mr Faye somehow. We’ll get you to safety shortly.”
Peter looked at the cook and felt a wave of guilt. She was an old woman, a civilian, and he had put her in harm’s way. He touched her shoulder to comfort her.
The exchange of gunfire at the cottage finally slackened when the NKVD team heard the motorboat heading out to sea. They realized the game was up and raced back toward their car. The Finns continued to blast away at them, and one of the NKVD men slumped forward with a bullet to the back of the head. The men quickly hauled their dead colleague to the car and drove away at high speed. The Finns tried to follow the Russians, but they had taken the precaution of shooting out their tyres.
A mile away, the NKVD car pulled over to allow Evdokia to pull up alongside in her own car. She exchanged a few words through the window with the senior agent and ordered them to hide the body of their colleague in the boot. She then left for Stockholm in her car, followed by the second vehicle.