“Unfortunately I cannot tell you why this mission is so important but if you succeed, you will live forever in Norwegian history, so good luck and be strong.“

After these words, on Feb. 16, 1943, 6 Norwegian commandos left for the drop zone in the Hardangervidda, Norway.

Assignment: “Defuse the heavy water plant in Vemork.”

The men of Lichting 93/12 had to do with less heroic words. With a simple but oh so clear “Forward march,” the start of ECO was a fact.

Mission: “Do not drop out and achieve the green beret”

That “not falling out” was no easy task. But about 30 men finally walked under the gate of tears on Feb. 25, 1994.

25 years since that beret was put on. 25 years since a common experience was formed. 25 Years have passed since giving up together. So it’s high time for new experiences and reeling again.

8 men from lichting 93/12 decided to retrace World War II Operation Gunnerside in March 2019. During this operation, Norwegian commandos defused the Heavy Water Plant in Vemork. This factory was a key component in Hitler’s atomic program. At the time, the commandos were put down with a para deployment on the Hardangervidda. After spending several weeks on the altitude plateau, they carried out the sabotage action on the heavy water plant in the last days of February ’43.

Our efforts went a little differently. Early on, the KLM plane left Schiphol Airport for the airport in Oslo where a cab bus was waiting for us. During this ride, memories were recalled from ECO. Many names came up again. Many anecdotes were told. And if I am to believe everything we went through in ECO, that whole period must have been at least twice as long. Wonderful to hear that stories are not forgotten, sometimes turned on a bit but always entertaining. We laughed hard. The characters of the time have not changed much.

After a drive of over four hours, we were dropped off at the edge of the Hardangervidda. Even as we got off the bus, the wind cut straight into our faces. A little uncomfortably we looked at each other. Are we really going to do it? It was an alternation of excitement and enthusiasm.

We were next to a mountain hut and took the opportunity to properly attach all our equipment to the sleds there. Each of the 8 men had a sled to carry his food, clothing, sleeping bag and some of the group equipment in it. Everything was arranged by me in advance. I have made it my profession to take groups into Arctic territory. So there is no shortage of experience and material.

Just before sunset, we were ready to leave. The last rays of sunlight illuminated the surroundings and slowly but surely a column of eight commandos slid into the white landscape.

The first move would be a short one. At least we wanted to be out of sight of the cabin. After about half an hour we reached a flat spot that could function perfectly well as a camp spot for the night. The first steps of our own “Heroes of Telemark” trek were a fact.

But then you’re not there yet. An expedition in the snow means being completely self-sufficient. So moving gave way to making camp. Flatten snow, pitch tent, melt snow, make food. All in all, a daily ritual that takes a few hours. We used two tents. Steffen had brought his Hilleberg tent and I brought a 6-person expedition tent. An extended Hilleberg tent that stands like a house in 5 minutes. After dinner we rolled out the sleeping bags and by about ten o’clock the fun was over. Sleeping. Tomorrow would be a long day. On to the 1943 drop zone. Lake Skrykken.

Sunday, March 10

At 7:00 a.m. the alarm clock rang mercilessly. The morning ritual. Plan was to leave at 09:00. But before it did, much had to be done. Filling thermoses with hot water is especially important. The bottles that had been filled the night before were used in the morning for breakfast, for tea and coffee or just to drink from. And before the 16 thermos were completely capped with boiling water again, it was almost two hours later.

In the meantime, the tent was packed up and the last of the breakfasts consumed. Last to go were the gasoline burners. What peace of mind once those things are off. A little past nine o’clock, the group was ready to begin the day. On to the northwest. Marc first.

The Hardangervidda is an altitude plateau. For us, that meant climbing quite a few meters on the first day. That wasn’t easy with a heavy sled behind everyone. Unaccustomed skis plodded through the snow. But slowly but surely we were making meters. Meters through the immeasurably beautiful landscape. To our left were rocks that separated the high plateau from us, to our right a shallow valley and in front of us a landscape slowly sloping upward.

Around noon, we reached the first lake. Wonderfully flat and a welcome change after the 300 meters we had ascended. Here we made a faint but sure turn to the west. A few more hours and we would have had the final ascent.

We passed the lake on the side. Here and there we saw some cabins. Deep under the snow with sometimes only the roof visible. Gert, meanwhile, had taken a fancy to it and was making a deep track through the snow. As the front man, he soon left the group a good hundred meters behind. In a long line, we followed his trail.

By the end of the afternoon, we walked over the last elevation. We were at an altitude of 1194 meters and before us stretched a rolling landscape of white blankets. And there it lay. Three kilometers to the west, we saw a white plain. The frozen Skrykken Lake. A three-by-five-kilometer lake hidden among the hills and far from civilization. After not too long, we had bridged the small drop that separated us from the lake and slid onto the lake as one team. I looked at Steffen. We both understood that this was a memorable moment. That this lake so many years ago was the scene of the beginning of Operation Gunnerside and that we now have the privilege of enjoying it in peace and quiet. The overwhelming nature. The eventful history and we, veterans, becoming one team again here. Pretty special.

Slowly we make our trail across the lake. Diagonally to our left, the sun is slowly setting and on the horizon our goal appears. The Jansbu hut. The hut the commandos used as shelter. After 21.4 kilometers, we tap the cabin’s front door. Closed. But so nice to be here. We are already looking for a place to put up the tent when Marc suddenly comes walking by with a key. “Found it on the toilet “he says. And yes, the key fits. We take advantage of Norwegian hospitality and see a bill in the cabin from other guests. It seems there are more people who want to recreate this trip as truthfully as possible. We leave a bottle of whiskey the next morning for the services enjoyed. And after the hut is swept, the key put back, we continue on our way. Southbound. On to Vemork.

The Hardangervidda is a vast nature reserve in southern Norway. One of the last wildernesses in Europe. A beautiful rolling altitude plateau that is about 1,000 meters above sea level. Here are vast vistas. Herds of wild reindeer. Gorgeous orange, red, yellow sunsets that set the entire area in color. This is the area where many a South Pole expedition has completed its training. Amundsen, Norway’s most famous polar explorer, did his training here. But this same Amundsen also nearly died here. Because besides being beautiful and peaceful, Hardangervidda can also be turbulent, wild and cold. Temperatures of 30 are no exception. Storms that can crush your tent occur. And then those white-outs. Fog in the snow. White everywhere. Terrible for your orientation and sense of balance.

And exactly that is what happened to us on the third day of the trek. A total white-out. I decided to leave with the group that day, though. We would travel over 11 kilometers across a frozen lake. No chance of precipices and canyons. The first few meters were difficult because we had to reach the edge of the lake. On the 20-meter slope to the lake, about half the men fell into the snow. Unable to estimate depth, unable to see the ground. After that, things got better. Walking two by two to keep the group as small as possible. Steffen and I in the lead. Wandering like a drunken couple looking for the right course. With the wind directly from the front, the Hardangervidda here showed that this is an area you should tread with respect. And we did. Respect for nature, respect for those men from ’43 and also respect for each other. That after 25 years we are still working together focused on the task. Each has moved on after the service and built time to build their own lives. But here we were and in no time it was a team. We worked together, with each other and for each other. Was baggage taken over, encouraging words spoken and laughter together rock hard. Behind, I hear singing. “…One lump of scum. We won’t let the courage go to waste…” While singing, we reached the other side of the lake. We too are of illustrious lineage.

The worst of the white out is over and in the evening we pitch our tent next to an abandoned hunting cabin. That night just a little less deserted. 17.4 kilometers indicates the GPS. Not bad under these circumstances.

The move through the snow will continue for a total of 5 days. The commandos of the time spent weeks on the Hardangervidda. With every step I take, I gain more respect for their achievement. With our GPS navigation, a good map, a strong tent, good food and an expedition sleeping bag, it is quite manageable.

The last day, however, was a challenge. We had ended the night before at the upper edge of the valley on which Vemork lies. Our goal. A drop of over 700 altimeters over a distance of 1 kilometer. In the evening we were already looking for a route that would lead us into this valley in one piece. But unceremoniously we returned to our bivouac. We looked at each other. What should we do? Going back is not an option. Too steep to do that with our sleds. Traversing is not an option. Then we would have to trek 4 kilometers through dense forest. Through hip-deep snow. Impossible. The only option we saw was to descend directly anyway. Skis on the sled. Sled out in front of us and carefully follow it.

There we went. Gert ahead to scout the trail. I right after that to use the GPS to tell Gert the right direction. Behind them, the rest. Foot by foot, we began the descent. Soon the weight of the sled was pulling me upside down. I head first into the snow. Releasing the rope to which the sled was attached. Fortunately, the sled comes to a stop against a tree a few meters later. I knock the snow off me and just barely manage to dodge Marc’s sled, which plunges down at speed. “OK. Is it going to be such a day,” I say to myself.

Gently and with 104% focus we headed down the slope. After an hour and a half, we did 500 meters and were halfway there. From now on, the countdown is on.

Sometimes I go down in front of the sled only to have it carefully come up behind me. Sometimes I stand beside the sled to restrain it with all my strength. It is agonizingly slow. But we are moving forward. This is another worthy conclusion to this week. Command worthy. Sweat on the back, snow up to my waist. By noon, we reach our goal exactly. A hairpin turn in road 37. Miland highway to the west.

Here we put the sleds and equipment out of sight on the shoulder of the road. The last three kilometers we walk along the road to the Heavy Water Plant. We can now see these well across the valley.

The heavy water plant is no longer in use as a factory. Since the 1980s, operations have ceased and for several years it has now housed the Norsk Industriarbeidermuseum. Here we arranged a private tour. An older man precedes us and tells us about the factory, the history of Vemork and its surroundings and, of course, the sabotage action. We are shown a half-hour movie and then comes the climax. The man takes us to the basement. This is where the barrels of heavy water used to be. Finally, after more than a week, we are in the room where the sabotage action actually took place. There is not much more to see than a few walls with the paint falling off and an empty room with some debris on the ground. Since the closure of the plant, the machines have been removed. But the space together with the stories of our museum guide create a beautiful and impressive picture.

At 4 o’clock sharp Nils is in front of the museum with his car. With him we have booked accommodation for the last night. He takes us to the bend in the road to pick up our stuff. As we arrive here he asks where we came from. I point up and say, “Up there and we came down here” He looks at me in disbelief and says in a Norwegian accent, “That is impossible. You guys are crazy.” I look at him, smile and think to myself, “No, we are not crazy, we are still commandos after 25 years.”

We spent the night at the Rjukan Fjellstue, drinking beer, reflecting on the trip and what happened to us. We have beautiful words for each other. One by one, we take the floor to share what we experienced and what will stay with us. Goosebumps. I listen with a lump in my throat to Paul, Stijn, Steffen, Marc, Rumo, Gert and Robert. 25 Years older and 25 years wiser.

Early in the morning, the cab is already waiting and takes us back to Olso with snow chains on. It snowed hard that night. In the cab, we recount another hundred. During this ride, memories were made from the past week. New anecdotes were told. Lovely to hear new stories being told. Again, a bit turned on at times but always entertaining. The characters back then have not changed much. Men of steel with hearts of gold.