The two men in white anoraks were slowly approaching, skiing in the bitter cold over the Hardangervidda mountain plateau in the winter of 1943. Were they friends or foes? This was a matter of life and death for the six young men watching the only other living beings in sight for miles of snow-clad wilderness. Their pace was slow, the men were thin and didn’t look too well, just as if they might well have spent 130 days of the winter of 1942–43 hidden in a rudimentary hut on the mountain, surviving on moss and poached reindeer. It had to be them. The group’s leader, Joachim Rønneberg, decided to make contact. This story is first a tragedy and then a success, and it does not begin on the Hardangervidda but in Scotland where Britain’s ski capital, the small town of Aviemore in the Cairngorms National Park, is going to be our starting point for several dangerous journeys across the North Sea. A few years ago we drove up the main mountain road, eventually leading to the Cairn Gorm peak itself, 4,084 feet (1,245 metres) above sea level, and passed the park’s visitors’ centre located in pretty surroundings by a small lake. We glimpsed something flapping in the wind that did look a bit like the Union Jack, an unlikely occurrence in the highlands. We turned around and took the path up the hill, and soon discovered that what we first mistook for the British ensign, because of its colours, was in fact the Norwegian national flag. In 1468, when the Norwegians gave away their last Scottish possessions to King James III in Edinburgh, the Norwegian flag had not even been invented, so we were a wee bit curious as to why it was flying here, in the heart of the Cairngorms. But of course, mountains, snow, and skiing—what could be more Norwegian? And this simplistic reasoning is actually closer to the answer than we might have thought, as a commemorative sign told us that on this spot were the lodgings of the famous Kompani Linge during World War II.
A Wealth of Evidence: The Identity of the Man Commemorated at Sutton Hoo
