Chapter Eleven

Some time after the ‘forest fire’ word came from our Captain we were on the move again. It was to be a good move because we were to join the crews of the several other Norwegian ships. The news sounded almost too good to be true; we were going to be ‘housed’ in buildings, with cots to sleep on, and a mess hall of all things. The mess-hall at Settat consisted just of a square of trenches, about ten by five feet with a tent top. And sleeping outside on just straw mats never had much charm, the supposed charm from the song: "Western Starlit Night" notwithstanding, as noted earlier.

Two busses came. I never could remember any special good-byes, but there were some "bon chance"- calls as the busses took off. Our move had been discussed with some of the other groups. Most of these people didn’t seem to belong anywhere; they would indicate we were fortunate. I had a last talk with the Germans and asked if "auf widerseen" was in order. Shrugging their shoulders they indicated uncertainty about their own future. Wishing the Norwegians well, seemingly they would miss the kindred- company.

The bus driver advised we were to travel by way of Casablanca to a place near a town by the name of Mazagan, now El-jadida. (All the former French names were changed after the independence of the North African colonies). This new place was Southwest of Casablanca, about a third of the distance to Safi. I remembered having passed through Mazagan when traveling from Safi to see the dentist at Casablanca.

We of the Ringulv by this time had, so to speak, been vagabonds, or nomads, around much of Morocco for about four months. At Sidi el Ayachi we met the crew of six other Norwegian ships in addition to our old friends from Tana and Elise, their first camp. There were also the crew from a Greek, a Belgian and a Dutch ship. To our surprise there were also a contingent of families with children, including a number of individuals. These people apparently had been rounded up for living or having arrived in Morocco as refugees without proper papers. There were a few French as well apparently unable to return to France at this time.

The camp consisted of several large, stucco-type, one story buildings. As mentioned before there was a large mess-hall type building where the food was brought, rather than served. Another luxury for the Ringulv crew was a building with a wash room, and running water. The ships Officers were given cabins for two while the regular crew were to sleep on cots in barracks-type buildings, housing about thirty. Again, compared to what the Ringulv crew had been through, Odd and I agreed "to hell with adventure", this was like the Ritz, or something. Two elevated, separate out-houses even, six steps up facing each other, about twelve feet apart, with five foot high Dutch doors; one could almost say hello, across... A French civilian, a former French Army colonel, was in charge generally although there was also a contingent of Senegalese Soldiers providing guard duty under a French first lieutenant. The civilian commander, about fifty, had a young Arab girl as a companion which came as a light shock: something one had read about but never experienced. There was more surprise when the commander’s young daughter, probably around fifteen, visited. But the daughter and her father’s sleeping companion seemed to get along just fine, another surprise.

By the time we arrived at this camp I had lost around 15 lbs, likely due to the different and varied types of foods we were unaccustomed to. The food was generally better at this camp. An Arab type rye bread, round loaves about 8 inch diameter and about 2 inch. thick at the middle, was delivered daily by donkey-cart The cart was about five by four feet, about ten inches deep, the bread seemingly haphazardly placed there. We generally could help ourselves to a loaf or two. Within 4 to 5 weeks I had regained most of the lost poundage. Since that time I have little trouble eating just dry bread, when necessary.

Of course, as we arrived at the camp, the other crews were eager to learn about our experiences and we were sort of basking in recounting the adventures. There were now about 180 to 200 Seamen at this camp; I was surprised, trying to recall the exact number years later, that this somehow had slipped my mind. I supposed the information could be had if this was ever necessary.

The different ships’ crews generally bunked together but this was not kept as an official policy. One of the Officers from the ships at Port Leautey had managed to keep a radio. He also had some maps of the European war ‘theater on the walls of their room and with the news from London, one could follow the progress of the war. It was negative at this time because of the German advance into Russia. We used to gather outside his room to hear the evening news from London. Somehow there was never any interference from the French over this half clandestine operation. Perhaps, I mused, this was because the Germans seemed to be leading at this time.

The compound was about 120 yards square, (or about 100 sq meters), and comprised of about 15 buildings. The quarters for the civilian families and others, were in buildings made up into rooms. Most of the civilians were of Jewish background. One of the men, perhaps 40, was in daily contact with the commander because he was unable to get a room for himself and his younger wife. He would visit her room every morning in his nightgown and robe, sort of parading for everyone to see him in his misery, being separated from his wife; she was boarded with another woman.

The area had a sizable parade ground, or square, which figured in a near uprising, to be noted later. There was a front gate at times guarded by a soldier, later by arrangement by one of the Seamen in rotation, just sort of to note comings and goings, apparently for some protocol. But the rear gate on the opposite side of the camp was always unattended. It was reasoned one could not get very far on foot, nor, as later events will show, not very far without being noticed.

A good size river was flowing by some 300 yards from the rear gate, farm land sloping away downward. The name of the river was -Oued oum el Rbia; (I never found out what the name meant). The Arabs were farming the land around the camp area. Some of the people at the camp also had their own vegetable plots just beyond to the rear camp walls. The Belgian crew had what we thought to be a peculiar pass-time.

They would string a large net up on fifteen foot high poles, the net some 20 ft. wide and anchored at the rear. As small birds gathered under the net for food left there the net was caused to fall trapping the birds. It puzzled us how much food they would glean, so to speak, from sparrow-sized birds, and how many the would need...

One of two younger women, likely around 28 by my estimate, became enamored of one of the young, tall and blond, Seaman about 25 from one of our ships. She was rooming with a woman around 35. His barrack mates would detail how he would come back into the barrack at all hours from visits to the two girls’ room. When asked if the older girl was present when he visited into the night, he would shrug his shoulders and smile. The twosome soon became sort of an open secret and the civilians would smile and nod whenever the two were seen together, even if just meeting casually during the day time.

After some time into this romance Police were called because the young woman was missing some expensive jewelry. It was finally determined that a couple of young Arab handymen were the culprits. But the young Norwegian lover-boy, one might call him with a little envy, was embarrassingly involved as well.

The girl, or woman, was married to a Frenchman in Casablanca who, of course, also came from the city for the investigation. To everyone’s surprise he did not seem to make much of the lover-boy’s involvement; it was explained that apparently it was a type of marriage of convenience because the love affair seemed to continue after the investigation was concluded. The two young Arab maintenance men were replaced, of course.

There were no shower facilities at this apparently former military camp. Before our arrival shower facility privilege had been arranged via a march down to a small town, Azimour, about 20 minutes away once a week. The lieutenant would line up all the Seamen in marching format for the march escorted by some of the Senegalese Soldiers with rifles. After our arrival the whole group served a protest that we were not prisoners, demanding to be able to march by ourselves. This, however, was unacceptable to the lieutenant. Apparently we were defying his status in command.

One reason for our demand was that on a previous trip we were made to wait by the roadside, close to the shower facilities area, as two private cars stopped and three or four civilians stepped out and ‘inspected the group. "German Officers", almost as a curse, was passed on through the group. As if on cue we acted as defiantly as one may by just standing there. Whatever was their intent the Germans without more reentered their vehicles and disappeared.

The lieutenant deemed our demand an uprising, issued ammunition to the Senegalese Soldiers to show he intended to force compliance. The eight Soldiers, now with fixed bayonets, faced all of us by now with our hands full of rocks.

The civilian commandant, having observed this, was already on his way on his horse, galloping downtown to the Army colonel in charge. Pretty soon, before the lieutenant issued his final order, the two colonels came galloping into the parade ground area.

We were asked to disperse for the time being, while some of our Officers met with the two colonels. The young lieutenant seemed to be excluded, he had withdrawn with his Soldiers. The French Army colonel apparently agreed our demand was reasonable and that the Seamen could march downtown, as a group, by themselves. A small detachment of Arab Soldiers in French uniforms, under an Arab sergeant, took over the guard duty. From this time also one of our group, in rotation as noted earlier, would record comings and goings as a sort of pro forma protocol, which likely was an unknown expression, that time.

The French lieutenant had built a small regimental insignia with white stones around the flag pole, somewhat of a custom. This was replaced by a flag pole flying the colors of the Arab-French unit. The Arab Soldiers had horses which were stabled outside the camp area. Visiting Soldiers from a nearby area would bring their horses by, all beautiful Arab stallions, I thought, although admittedly I knew very little about horses.

On guard duty during one of these visits I engaged the Arabs by praising their horses and horsemanship. They asked me if he could ride. I dutifully answered in the negative. But when asked if I would like to try I quickly answered affirmatively and next found myself in a Western type saddle on a spirited horse. Leaning slightly forward, I had watched the owners carefully, almost naturally guiding the steed outside the gate for a romp around an adjoining field and back to the gate. The Arabs applauded and said they didn’t believe I had never been on a horse. I was just happy the experience was over.

The deck Officers established training classes for some of the Seamen who were thinking of continuing at sea, classes designed to teach about navigation and other necessary Seamanship for deck Officers. This was not anything I had any interest in whatever. But a lady, apparently a Jewish refugee, had established French classes. I would "do" some of my French lessons while on guard duty, at time pen what I could observe of the comings and goings around the camp area. The teacher, probably around 40, asked me to read aloud what I had observed and commented I had a knack for it; I refrained from mentioning this to my friends lest they would think I was putting on airs. It was enough with the French lesson, already...

An older Estonian engineer, also a refugee, established Spanish classes. His classes were conducted outside a sort of smaller stone building he occupied because of a position as part time maintenance engineer, his class sitting on the ground. He had a white flowing beard and smoked a pipe. Elias and Rudy were among his students. I was introduced to the engineer but I apparently thought taking two foreign classes would be confusing; the engineer was on the quiet side which I took as less than an invitation to join, even as the classes were paid for. Because I already had taken some French classes, why not continue. Perhaps, also, French was primarily being spoken all around us with the opportunity of constant practice.

Many years later I would regret not having taken Spanish because I learned that English and Spanish were just about international in scope. More people were speaking those two languages than any other; most of South America, for example, (Portuguese in Brazil), the Philippines and others in S. Asia. However, years later, when oldest daughter Nora was majoring in French at North Carolina State University my knowledge of French came in handy.

We were allowed to wander out around the area to any of the farms to try and augment the camp food. Eggs, for instance, were easy to prepare on small adobe-type, wood-burning, ‘stoves’. We built these stoves from rocks and adobe-type earth. With the extra Arab bread available one could prepare a satisfying snack. Someone mentioned he thought he could taste that the chickens were feeding mostly, if not exclusively, from ‘yard’ food and that the eggs tasted accordingly. There was some information in this remark, I suppose, but we were not on any energy-food kick, just looking for a snack.

A large orange orchard ^was located about a 45 minutes walk away. We would walk there once a week for a supply of oranges or tangerines. The orchard was owned by a French couple who were amused by these young Norwegian Seamen who did not behave like Seamen generally. The two were surprised to learn that this was our group’s third camp and asked me to describe where we had been. Mentioning the incident at the railroad station at Oujda I sensed they became as if on guard and just passed to the next camp; they were civilians... We were greeted cordially each visit. They were quite amused at a visit two days in the row; I explained that I thought the tangerines were so good I finished my week’s supply, about 50, in one day with no ill effects.

On our way to and from the orchard we would try and visit with the Arab farmers, but as most of them did not speak any French it became a guess as to who were amused the most.

The farmers apparently were accustomed to seeing the French Soldiers when the camp was used for that purpose and were uncertain about these young men in civilian clothes speaking a strange tongue, (different than French, too).

Cooking some snacks one day, one of the ships’ cooks asked why we couldn’t try to buy a turkey from one of the Arab farmers. The cooks would prepare. Two, or three of us, were ‘sent’ out to find out, I because of my French. I knew of an Arab living down by the river, a little distance away where we had seen a couple of turkeys and some chickens. Approaching the farmer outside his tent I was able to convey that we wished to buy a turkey. The farmer held up his hand, as if asking me to wait. He entered his tent and came back out leading a young girl by the hand.

We were all dumbfounded when he proceeded make us understand he only wanted to sell a turkey if we also would buy his daughter. The daughter seemed to be about twelve years of age. We just shook our heads and walked away. Flabbergasted, I exploded: "He wanted to sell his daughter to some strangers!" We reported the story back to the camp. Some of the Officers felt it was not advisable to get involved with the Arab population. I really had not expected to come face to face with customs only recently half believable, more second hand. -So, we got no turkey!...

Being able to roam the country side, keeping in mind the adage - when in Rome, oddities allowed for some amusement, nevertheless. For instance, a huge camel and an oxen teamed together pulling a plow appeared comical, at first sight. The plow was made of wood, with just with a piece of steel attached. It would seem that this contraption only could scratch two or three inches of the soil.

The orange grove owner explained that this was all that was necessary in this area and that generally there were two or three crops a year because of the generally favorable climate. When asked why there was a seeming scarcity of potatoes, just about a staple for the Norwegians, we learned that seed potatoes had to be imported. I would explain that I remembered my father saving some of the potatoes, as seed potatoes, from a half acre plot the community allowed anyone for the asking. The orange grove owner stated again that the potatoes grown there were unsuitable as seed potatoes. But vegetables were grown almost in profusion.

Some of the Seamen were avid chess players and I was introduced to a game I only had heard about heretofore, so far as I could remember. Over several weeks two of the younger regular chess players gave lessons to one of the young engine crew lads and me. I learned to play after a fashion but not much more than that. When the engine lad and I were to see who had progressed the most I believe it was a draw. I could generally never sit still long enough to become an effective player; my stratagem, since one is talking about chess?, was generally to attempt to exchange pieces hoping I would come out ahead at the end. I don’t think I ever had more than one opening move, (King’s pawn?), still don’t.

The Officers from the Polish ship seemed to be serious players and would win when friendly ‘tournaments’ were held. I remember one of the Norwegian Firemen who could hold his own against many, he was one of my teachers. At times it seemed his stratagem was to disrupt his adversary’s, even the Polish Officers’ game, more than to win. And more than once an opponent would give up because the Norwegian played for a draw, it seemed, which would disrupt the other player. It seemed that way, but this may have been because of my lack of game understanding.

Poker playing was almost like big time. Some of the civilians would form a pool and select one of their members to play against the several Seamen. The ace player was our old friend ‘ShakyLars’, the Fireman from Ringulv. He seemed to win consistently and had an uncanny way,, it seemed, to be able to play and win with what would hardly be called a good hand. Never a gambler I was fascinated and would spend hours watching.

The poker playing would come to a screeching halt when Lars would take a break, as if to consolidate his winnings. He generally would buy new dungaree jacket and pants, his ‘dress’ suit. As if he had no will he would lend out his money to the other Seamen just to attempt to ‘salt’ some away, as the saying goes. He seemed to know he was bound for a binge and generally would demand his money back before the binge was over. The others felt he didn’t hurt anyone. He was generally kindness itself, his partly toothless smile was almost fixed. one almost felt sorry for him because his demeanor seemed to say: "this is who I am, I don’t hurt nobody’ but myself"‘; a -take it or leave it attitude- did not appear a part of it.

He was also one of three or four who somehow managed to pick up lice because of lack of personal hygiene. Visiting in the other barracks, sitting on their bunks during their binges, they managed to spread the vermin around. A call went out to the Ship-Chandler in Casablanca and the Captains living there. Pretty soon a supply of delousing powder arrived. One of the Officers hailed one of the ‘lousy’ group sitting in the court yard, one of the ‘un-kempt’ ones, asking him to produce some lice to test the efficacy of the powder. The Seaman just reached back under his shirt collar, below his neck, and dropped a couple of lice onto a small mirror held by the Officer.

The powder worked beautifully. Soon the louse problem was history for the rest of the crew members even as it remained with the un-kempt’ group because of their habits. They were, however, thereafter not welcomed to visit the others or come near their bunks; but this did not seem to bother them too much. It was even amusing to them that those sleeping in the same areas would secure some extra powder in order to form a ‘safety zone border on the floor around their bunks.

The poker playing and the chess games generally took place in a large day-room type building, also used as the mess hall. Some socializing between the refugee-status people and the Seamen materialized, if this is a valid expression pertaining to people. There were some younger women we could dance with at a social, now and then. One of the French couples hailed from Paris where he had been a violin player in an orchestra. He would play for the group on occasions but kept mostly to himself. His wife, on the other hand, would not keep it a secret that there was trouble in the marriage, he wishing to return to Paris and she, for some untold reason, wishing not to return. I found him sitting in the cantina with a glass of wine one day, crying. He just waved me away when I tried to talk to him. A few days later he bid his good-byes to his friends at the camp and traveled to Casablanca to return to Paris.

Both before and after the violinist made his return to Paris his wife, more or less openly, had made sort of a play for one of the Norwegian Seamen around her own age, probably around 45, (twice my age, was a considerable age for anybody). She was to complain that these Norwegians must have ‘du sang froid’, cold blood in their veins, because of the Seaman’s inattention to her advances.

To be sure, there was socializing; it probably would have been the exception were this not so. The Radio Officer on the Danish ship, for instance, made no secret of his arrangement with one of the young unattached women. He would sort of boast it was his ‘sleeping’ companion. In fact, when the time came to leave for another camp, this young woman was pregnant. The ‘perpetrator’ just shrugged his shoulders when queried about this, meaning it was just as much her ‘fault’ as his. The incident bothered me, equanimity-wise. Just the thought of fathering a child, whose future I could not likely contribute to.... I was quite aware this was not that unusual. I had already been introduced to this mind-set when the young German camp record-keeper averred that one does not have to be married to have children, which, while true enough, one does not have to accept as a truism. It ran counter to the mores we carried with us.

A young woman, possibly French/Arab, from the small town of Azemour where the showers were, worked at the camp and established a relationship with Willy, one of the engine crew of the Tana. I would interpret for them ‘though she learned some English and Willy became more and more attuned to her French. But there seemed to be a real fondness between them. She would visit Willy and sit on his bunk and knit when he was ailing.

Some of the Seamen’s’ seeming inattention to female company may have been from practiced celibacy by some, the fact that the older Seamen were married in Norway, or just the fact that this was much an open environment. Anything that happened became general knowledge, immediately.

Probably some twenty years later, when I was situated in America, I found an interesting book written by an American who had studied life among whaling crews from Norway, back when whaling was still acceptable. He had accompanied a whaling factory, or ‘mother, ship on a usual whaling tour of about 7 months in the Antarctic. His conclusions were that the whaling people generally did not mind, perhaps even sought, being alone. For some it may have been an economic necessity. I do remember someone mention that our Uncle Louie likely was one who preferred being alone...

The writer also made a comparison with men and women seeking celibacy through religious orders. I could remember the Seamen talking about jobs at sea during the depression years. Engine and deck Officers and Captains would sign on Norwegian ships, with Chinese crews, in the China trade, i.e. ships sailing exclusively in that area, for a period of five years. After this time period they would get free travel back to Norway for one month’s vacation then back to the ship. There were the usual stories about children spaced five years apart, and some wives who had gotten into trouble in between.

Some of the ladies at the camp were teachers and took care of the schooling for the children. My French teacher asked me to translate any children’s songs from Norwegian to French. I appealed to our group to help me dig up songs and children’s plays from childhood. After some time a sort of little show was put on by the teachers and the children using the songs and plays translated from Norwegian. It was great experience and I became a known figure to everyone in the camp; the children would gather around, with their parents nearby, and try to converse with this tall individual speaking broken French.

One noteworthy event was the Christmas celebration 1941 which was held in the mess-hall area in order to accommodate the civilians who wished to take part. The affair was arranged mostly for children, as entertainment for some, and celebration for others according to religious preferences, I thought. There was a small tree and lights but I could never recall any exchanges of gifts, this was not the typical family gathering. In addition, those of Arab and Jewish persuasion likely attended for the commonality, the necessity of just being together during a difficult time. The children, as noted earlier, had been taught songs and plays translated from Norwegian. I seem to recall that the civilian camp commandant attended with his daughter and Arab companion and applauded the children’s performance. This was also the first time I had been away from my family at Christmas time. But I was in company of Seamen who were wont to this separation and accepted the condition. Of course, no present Norwegian Seaman had ever been away from his family in Norway during any war-time condition...

The town of Mazagan had a small harbor. Three of the younger Seamen had reconnoitered and found an available sailboat. The three attempted to make a get-away with this sailboat without contacting the more experienced sailors. They burned out the small motor trying to get outside the harbor into the open sea, were caught and trundled off to jail. But when the Norwegian agent at Casablanca compensated the owner for the loss or damage to the sailboat the charges were dropped. They were returned to camp quite chastened for having made fools of themselves by not getting advice from more experienced, older Seamen. Their failure perhaps brought some loss of prestige to the Norwegians, as Seamen, as well.

The three likely had taken their cue from some of the other Seamen who had made successful get-aways from Port Leuatey when the ships were laid up there. On two of these ships some of the crew members constructed long-boats, (about 14 feet), using wooden keels, ribbing, and seating, then water-proofing canvas for the outside skin. Three boats were successfully rowed and sailed to Gibraltar some 100 miles away.

This was a substantial feat in as much as the fact the ships were moored in the river maybe a mile or so from the ocean, the river mouth also guarded by a fort. There were investigations after the get-aways. The indication was that those among the investigators who were knowledgeable purposely, apparently, overlooked the likely materials left behind on the middle deck in the holds where the longboats were constructed and built. Some of these officials tacitly acknowledged the crews had accomplished a remarkable feat. Our Captain of the Ringulv and the Second Mate were among the escapees which we learned much later.

Another remarkable feat had taken place, we learned later, with another interned Norwegian ship anchored up at Dakar, West Africa; her name may have been "Livard", diesel motor ship. The French had removed certain engine parts, (the starting tubes,) to prevent any escape attempt. The engine crew machined generally true copies in the machine shop, but not good enough for substitutes. On the pretext of needing to test the engine the French agreed to return these parts, remaining onboard as the engine was tested. Apparently, inattention of the French guards allowed the crew to substitute the real parts with the copies they had made, returning the ‘home-made part to the French. Before the French could check out the parts, if they bothered or had the knowledge, the Livard made good a harrowing escape over the cable holding the steel nets blocking the harbor. We learned later that she had been fired on by the coastal forces as well as being pursued by an auxiliary patrol boat, making her way to (English) Freetown, Sierra Leone.

Escape Attempts:

The failure of the three on the sailboat at Mazagan did not deter me from trying to get something going escape-wise... On the contrary; the story told about the successful attempts at Port Leautey fired my imagination to the extent that I became involved in trying to escape, three times. These attempts, likely doomed before they started due to problems with adequate preparation, may show a measure of underlying frustration, especially so with a roamer like me, including the others who were ever so willing to try.

It boggled my mind, as the saying goes, that the preparations and the construction of the boats could have been kept under cloak, so to speak. The two boats, on separate occasions were then rowed down the river and out to sea. While discussing and dreaming one day, it fairly dawned on me: "Why not try to find a boat, "borrow" it and do the same thing?" one of the guys who had come from the ships at Port Leautey, and filled us in on the escapes, thought he already knew about a beautiful boat anchored in the river. It belonged to a small rowing club and was built almost like a small lifeboat with relatively high bow and stern; it had two sets of oar-locks and two sets of oars with space, in the front seat, for a mast and a sail. The die was cast...

The three of us wangled permission to go to Casablanca, continuing on to Port Leautey. Reidar already knew a Czech working legally there but anxious to get away. He had a relative with a repair and plumbing shop. We did some reconnoitering near the pier area. We tried to act casually so as not to direct any attention to ourselves. We certainly were not tourists, young able-bodied guys in civics, no tourist season this. Reidar could have been recognized as a member of one of the ship’s crews...

The boat looked beautiful, we felt we were already on the beckoning big blue... Crossing the bridge to the other side of the river we decided it would be easy to secure the boat. It was surprising no one wanted to know what we were doing there. The Czech fellow decided he would come along. During the next couple of days his relative prepared a water-tank with a tap. We managed to obtain a couple of sacks of Arab bread, some figs and dates, moved it over the bridge. We cached these provisions among the high grass not too far from the river. The Arabs still actively used an old crossing area below the piers, running boats back and forth. But, optimistically, we figured that as this traffic slowed down during the hours after midnight this would be OK.

We had not, however, figured with Mother Nature. Elias and I stripped to our bathing trunks and swam out to the boat after dark. The moonlit night and the phosphorescence in the water caused by our bodies aroused some Arab’s attention before we could prepare to undo the locked boat. Two small Arab crafts came toward the area to investigate. We hastily made for the shore and managed to hide in the grass till the Arab boats, finding nothing, returned. That broke the attempt for that night.

But the next day the Czech learned that our supply cache had been discovered. He took a risk just to come to tell us, said good bye, and the three of us boarded the train for Casablanca, figuring ourselves lucky to get away, -we thought.

The train stopped briefly at Fedala. As the train started moving again Reidar motioned to two Frenchmen approaching, mentioning quickly he knew one to be a Policeman. Sure enough, the train was stopped again and we were asked to follow. One of the Policeman spoke English and knew Reidar from the time he was at Port Leautey; this Policeman had an English mother. At the station we were asked about the cache found in the field, seeming provisions for a trip of some kind. We of course feigned ignorance even as this act was met with obvious disbelief.

While we were being questioned word apparently came from Casablanca that we should be sent there. The English speaking detective accompanied us. He seemed quite casual about professing not to know what was in store for us. We had some advantage being able to converse outside his understanding, seemingly to his slight annoyance. But he was like the ‘enemy’.

Once at the Police station, ominously, we were relieved of our passports. We wondered about the seriousness as we were being interrogated again and had to go through an identification procedure with a contraption akin to a torture implement. We had asked to be able to contact the Norwegian agent and made it clear we thought we were being handled as criminals, after just having been on an excursion trip. Reidar thought perhaps the to-do were after-effects from the people having made good their escape in the two home-made boats..

I was asking questions and the Frenchman was obliging as he fixed a wire cage, about a foot square and a foot high, over my head. I had to shut up for a while as the man adjusted several set-screws to touch several points on my head, chin, jawbones on both sides, the point of my nose, the top of my head in several places and the same for both sides of my head. This provided a numbering system and the man explained this was their way of identifying an individual, by creating a model, so to speak, of the cranium. He was familiar with the Norwegian ships that had been in the harbor last year but only laughed as I tried to query him about our future. After completions of the ‘cranium printing’ we were escorted to an apparent holding area, two large rooms, with about 40 people, a dozen different nationalities. It seemed all these individuals had been picked up for lack of proper papers, having lived at Casablanca illegally.

A young Czech was singled out by the guards one evening for interrogation. They, we were advised by someone, wanted to find out with whom he had been staying illegally. He was brought back the next day; his beautiful front teeth were knocked out! (I specifically remember his teeth since the time back in Odda when I worked as a dental technician). During the first night I remember mostly the problem of going to the ‘bathroom’ during the night with people sleeping on the floor like canned sardines. But I remember most of all, many years later, that I could have met my death there.

I caught yellow jaundice, hepatitis, with the tell-tale, rust-colored, urine and yellow eye-whites. Encouraged by the other jailees to notify the guards and be taken to the infirmary I was afraid, likely, to be separated from my pals. Ignorance is bliss?... Not realizing how sick I actually was we received just the kind of food that would not harm me, I was told later, bread and water and some thin vegetable soup. Apparently too, I thought later, my constitution carried me through, -that a non-medical thought, though. After several days I was OK. And as the jaundice disappeared we were shipped back to good old Sidi el Ayachi. Passports would go to the agent.

Rather than being stigmatized for our attempt to get away we were sort of reluctantly told that there had been a badly botched, in a sense, attempt to ship the three of us to Portugal. When the passports surrendered at the jail were returned to us at the camp we saw that they had been stamped for transfer to Portugal while we were in jail. We were told that the Norwegian Ship-Chandler, through friendly officials, successfully had pushed for our transfer to Portugal as a precursor to transferring all the Seamen there. Tickets were already purchased on a regular steamer to Lisbon that Saturday we were to be released from jail. But a couple of the Captains apparently held out for all to be leaving together, which action apparently came to the attention of other officials, with the result that no one could leave. I was trying to act philosophically, (probably not easy at that age); "there were no torpedoes in the camps"... Philosophy aside, I thought, some Captain goofed and throttled a new adventure!.

The river passing by near the camp soon became a source of enjoyment for the younger crowd now that spring was here. It was around 70 ft. wide, really flowing. We would swim the river but it was moving so fast that in order to cross it, we would have to walk about 100 yards up on one side to be able to land where we wanted to on the other side. It became a great sport and the older Seamen would gather and just shake their heads at the carryings on.

We were allowed to use small forest area down by the river for special events. One such event was the celebration of the Norwegian Constitution day, May 17, (in 1942). The Chief Mate on the Ringulv was the main speaker, following the custom of every May 17 celebration in Norway with parades and speeches.

I was translating the Chief’s speech to the French Canadian, extemporaneously he said, and the Latvian Firemen. The French-Canadian asked why the Chief was given the talk, and, sort of tongue in cheek, if it was because of his hyphenated surname. I recalled that the Chief, in a lighter moment, had mentioned that he had to pay extra for the hyphenated surname when sending a telegram, which information I passed on in the same vein.

(The Norwegian Constitution was adopted on may 17, 1814. A Norwegian who had emigrated to the U.S. had sent a copy of the American constitution to one of the writers of the constitution in Norway. One result apparently is reflected in their judicial system. Norway, with England, are the only countries in Europe with the similar system of grand and superior court and jury systems. Norway also has a supreme court.)

I do not remember much about the type food we were served. It seems I recall that we had lentil soup quite often and that the meat mainly was brazed mutton. There was some complaint about lack of good coffee but I was not a avid coffee fan, at that time. (Concerning food, even now, whenever I visit "the old country", being asked about types of food are eaten in Norway, I seem to have no particular recollection, once returned home.)

I had a problem of a very personal nature which I thought could be corrected at Casablanca with modern hospital facilities. It was in the nature of a circumcision, only more so. (The home doctor’s apparent disinterest in the condition had puzzled me. He seemed to make light about my concern). I asked our Captain’s advise on a visit to Casablanca and was referred to a French doctor attached to the hospital. The doctor advised I should be admitted to the hospital for further study and was placed in award with fifteen other men.

The hospital doctor came by with three interns and proceeded to discuss the problem in detail. I tried to ask about the procedure but the doctor seemed to ignore my self-interest in what was about to take place. In addition, I found out from the other patients that the ward I had been placed in was for men with venereal conditions, this apparently because I was considered a political prisoner.

The situation became more offensive to me during the night. Not being really advised about the intended procedure I sort of panicked, called the head nurse in the morning and demanded to be released. She complied, possibly because I indicated I was upset about being in a ward with people with venereal diseases. I returned to the camp without notifying our Captain and found out that the our Second Mate was in Casablanca to visit me at the hospital. I advised I decided to leave because of the uncertainty over the procedure etc.; end of story.

Some of the guys wanted to know if I had been thinking of taking out on another escape of my own but with our Second Mate on my side the latest incident became part news about ion. I had to relate about the venereal ward, which became an almost, "you trying to kid us?", to the unresponsive doctor and the understanding nurse; at least I thought she was. Perhaps she was moved, somehow, because I took offense being placed in that ward, a foreign Seaman at that, who had taken the trouble to learn to express himself in her language.

Among different attempts to be occupied was one to aid the Arab fishermen fishing out of the small city of Mazagan.

A couple of the older Seamen in the camp obtained line suitable for tying fishing nets, which the Arabs seemingly were not familiar with. Several lengths of nets were tied, probably around 60ft. long and about 8ft. deep. Whoever wanted to were invited to learn this handicraft. But it seemed only the older Seamen, those who were boatswains and carpenters likely in their forties, had the drive to stay with this tedious work. The several nets were made available to the Arabs. I could not remember, however, if this were a successful undertaking of craft export on our part. It seems we were removed to another camp before the fruit of our labors could be ascertained. Fishing with nets was an old craft in Norway and I was sure this could not have been unknown at least to the French. Perhaps there was an absence of schooling type fish, for which successful net fishing would be required.

Trying Again:

About two or three weeks later Elias and I were able to go to Casablanca, "to see a dentist". We had an idea that we possibly could walk from Port Lyautey to the Spanish Morocco border, (about 60 miles), then try to make our way to Tangier to find the Norwegian Consulate there. The Norwegian agent at Casablanca gave a hand planning our route indicating he was really was just interested. (Officially he didn’t know anything. We wondered later why we hadn’t considered buying a couple of bicycles at Port Lyautey).

It was our intention to walk mostly at night, within sight of, or near to the railroad tracks trying to sleep during the days. We had obtained an Arab hooded burnoose each, covering most of our length; we had a little trouble finding Arab shoes. We intended to use the hoods to cover, or hide, our blue eyes and old socks to hide our lighter skin. Youthful abandon to get away and back to sea seemingly made this a worth while second try. Perhaps, too, it was kind of a desperation action. The camp was just a camp. Confining even with the ability to move around some.

I don’t remember what kind of maps we had, but we decided to proceed along a road not too far from the railroad track, at least part of the way. We passed a small type building where two fellows were talking, their voices easily carried to us. They sounded like Army-type fellows. The light from the building shone onto the road. We just sneaked by as best we could; too early to get caught, we had just started. The idea with the Arab shoes didn’t work, our feet seemed different. So much for preparation. But we trudged on as long as it was dark. As daylight broke we thought it wisest to leave the road and settled down not too far from the railroad tracks, yet well hidden, to try and get some sleep. The burnooses were a good idea, anyway.

We had planned to visit any small town to obtain water and food. The idea of carrying some with us likely would arouse suspicion... We had observed that the Arabs were not too keen on the French and surmised we could stop and buy food from the farmers. But our endeavor came to a screeching halt at our very first attempt to visit a farmer, stopping to buy some food. We felt good that he was ever so kind taking our money and setting us down to eat in a sort of arbor. I remember there were grapevines overhead which we could sample, the grapes, that is.

As we were finishing eating two French Policemen showed up, praising the Arab for having notified them. The farmer apparently had sent one of his helpers to fetch the Police. The Police let us finish our meal while questioning why we were where we where, and just shook their heads over the story that we were just out for a walk away from camp life. We were accompanied back to Casablanca and jail again. This time in a small cell with just two other transients. The sanitary facilities were the barest minimum, jail type...

We were not really happy about the company. It occurred to me this was almost humorous in itself, because one of the two transients explained they were "transients". But he was noncommittal about explaining further and I mentioned to Elias we could be in the company of some type of crooks. It was almost like I was talking French out of one side of my mouth and Norwegian on the other side. I was not proficient enough in French to detect this individuals nationality, nor did he offer to tell me. It occurred to us he was familiar with jail life when I wanted to call the guard to get some more water. He showed us how he could get water from the latrine flusher so as not to bother the guards, which we disregarded.

The guard appeared to be a former soldier, in or near retirement. I tried to engage him in conversation, explaining our status was different than that of the other two, in an attempt to find out if the guard knew anything about our near future condition. The guard listened politely and with seeming interest to this Norwegian Seaman, he even recalled the foreign ships’ sojourn at Casablanca, commenting on my ability to speak French. And, as if to politely end the conversation, made a comment I had not heard since history class in high school. The comment was a paraphrase from the history about Alexander the Great. A conquered former king was walking alongside a wagon, in chains, observing the turning wheel with the comment, as restated by the old French prison guard: "Ah oui, la roue se tourne tojours"; indicating the turning the wheel was like shifting fortunes. The next day, not even questioned, we were unceremoniously shipped back to Ayachi, almost like a mere nuisance...

One remaining memory from this jail is the little barred window up on the wall letting some day light in. From that time, I believe, there is always a preference to have windows wherever I sit, not with my back to a window, and ample light when I eat.