THE LOST VIKING SAGA

In the war room deep rumbling sounds could be heard as from a distance. Following the resounding booms, the room shook ever so slightly. With each sound the volume grew much like the thunder as a storm creeps nearer. As the volume increased so did the shaking. In some instances, dust drifted down from above coating everything and everyone with a fine film. The Norsemen sat stiffly, their eyes drifting toward the ceiling with each booming tremor, expecting to see the roof collapse upon them. They sat this way for nearly half an hour until finally the explosions tapered off and a calmer mood arose within the war room.

Colonel Brundige entered the room with his aide and spoke rapidly to those gathered. At once, people were set into motion, seeing to the execution of the words spoken by their leader. The Colonel strode to where Olaf sat with his men. He spoke a few words to John who nodded and turned to Olaf.

“The Colonel would like to know if you would join him above ground to assess the damage from the Nazi bombs.”

“I would be honored to accompany him.”

With that settled Olaf rose, walked down the hallway, and ascended the stairs behind the Colonel and his aide. John followed close behind to allow communication between the two men. When they exited onto the street Olaf’s breath caught in his throat. Everywhere there were fires and chaos. The pandemonium was compounded by a high pitch, shrill whistle that seemed to come from all directions at once.

“This is exactly how I imagined Ragnorak as a boy. What is that ghastly clamor, John?”

“Those are sirens. They are a signal of sorts, alerting rescue teams to the fires and warning people to remaining in their shelters. Some of them should change to a different tone soon to let the villagers know that it is safe to come outside.”

“When I saw the rubble from Nazi bombs earlier today, I had no notion of what the immediate aftermath would look like. This is so much more troubling.”

The Colonel waited for John to briefly inform him Olaf’s reaction to the carnage. He looked upon Olaf with respect and kindness, seeming to understand his response such flagrant destruction.

“I never will be able to not be overwhelmed with deep sadness when I see such uncompromising havoc. Perhaps a conscience seared and desensitized can look upon these things and not react. I would pity such a person deeply,” said Brundige softly. “This is not the sort of thing a rational man should ever get used to.”

Olaf listened to John’s translation. “Only a man whose heart has shriveled to a black, empty shell could not be moved by what we see before us,” he replied. “There would seem to be much work to do here and people to assist. Let us help you. We can move debris, put out fires, and search for any survivors among the rubble.”

A thin smile broke the grim line of the Colonel’s mouth. “My men are already stretched beyond what they are capable of. My inclination is that you are trustworthy. I can usually trust my first impression of a man and my first impression of you, Olaf Sigmund’s son is that you have no motive other than to help. I accept your offer,” Brundige said before addressing John. “Professor, have you any ailment or physical handicap that may keep you from working with our Norse allies? It would be well to have someone with them who knows their language.”

“There is nothing that would keep me from coming to the aid of my countrymen, Colonel. I will gladly work alongside Olaf and his men. I may even be able to coax one or two of my colleagues who understand the language to venture out as well.”

“Very good,” said the Colonel. “I will see to it that someone meets you at this spot in fifteen minutes with two lorries and some tools. I am afraid we cannot spare much in the way of transport so you will have to cram in.”

As he finished his sentence a small cart like the one Olaf had ridden to this place in, came rather noisily to a stop before them. Brundige and his aide climbed in.

“Thank you, John. And please express my gratitude to Olaf. I will speak to you again on the morrow. For now, I have pressing matters to attend to. Driver, please try to avoid rattling every organ in my body to jelly.”

The driver worked a shaft between the two front seats, manipulated some pedals with his feet, and then pulled slowly away, hastening to deliver the Colonel to where he was needed next. Olaf and John returned to the war room, where Olaf gathered his men around to inform them of what they would be doing, while John spoke to his colleagues. He returned to the Norsemen with not two, but three of the drably dressed men, who looked eager to work alongside their new acquaintances. The group returned to the surface where they found the two promised lorries already waiting for them. In the bed of the lead lorry, two young soldiers sat gravely, one of them being the young man from the beach. He locked eyes with John and spoke.

“He requested to work with us,” John explained. “He feels duty-bound to help you in any way he can.”

“He is an honorable man. I am sorry I thought him so cowardly before. We will be glad to have him join us,” Olaf climbed into the back of the lorry, speaking to the young soldier as he sat next to him. “I am Olaf. You honor us with your presence.”

The soldier listened as John interpreted and replied.

“He greets you in return, Olaf, and would like you to call him by his Christian name, David.”

“Hail to you, David. You bear the name of a great and powerful king. I am often comforted by your namesake’s words from the Psalms.”

David gave Olaf a shy smile as he listened to John. Olaf squeezed his shoulder warmly.

The lorries were loaded with their passengers cramped together in the confining space. With a roar of the engines they started out to carry the Norsemen to where they could be the most helpful. They travelled no more than two or three miles, but the journey was lengthened by the necessity of the lorries to navigate around piles of debris and still burning fires. Olaf could not imagination that Barrow-in-Furness would soon recover from the utter ruin of their village. It would be some time before they would have the heart or the resources to rebuild.

Their first assignment was to search the collapsed remnant of a school to make certain no one had been trapped inside when the bombs fell upon it. Books, shattered desks, and assorted other wreckage lay scattered among the masonry. At first, it appeared no one had been in the building, but as they prepared to move on to where they were needed next, Kalf’s keen ears caught the faint sound of a woman crying out for help near a mound of timber and stone they had already sifted through. At once, the men began to carefully move the detritus away piece by piece. Before long, they had exposed a hole in the floor that opened up into a basement or small cellar. At the bottom of the hole, lay a woman pinned under a large beam that had previously supported the floor.

David shouted down to the woman to calm her, while Olaf, Kalf, and Ebbn were lowered into the gaping breach. Olaf and Ebbn grabbed hold and lifted the oaken support. When it was sufficiently raised, Kalf delicately pulled the woman free. He lifted her above his head effortlessly toward the hole where the others were able to lift her to safety. John and one of his colleagues examined her for injuries, speaking softly to her as they did so. A short time later, another lorry appeared, adorned with a large red cross on its sides. The woman was laid upon a canvas litter and carried to the rear of the red cross lorry. As she was being placed inside, she called out to John who quickly ran to her side. John patted her hand as she spoke and smiling returned to the group of grime covered men.

“She is very grateful to you all,” he said. “She is hoping she may be able to attend whatever pantomime you were preforming in after she gets out of hospital.” John laughed at the confused looks from the Norsemen. He explained as best as he could that the woman thought they were bards putting on a play. This was still met with consternation on the part of Olaf and his men. John chuckled all the more. “Let us just say that it may be a good idea to find you some more current clothing once we are finished tonight. The clothes you are wearing proclaim loudly that you are not from around here.”

“Perhaps with the coating of ash and dust we will be less obvious,” suggested Olaf.

“I would imagine we are all quite a sight at this point,” returned John.

David approached them from the lorries and had a brief exchange with John. He nodded to Olaf and waited while John translated.

“We are needed elsewhere I am afraid. The Nazis were a bit more generous with their bombs this time around. There is a group of homes on fire and we are needed to keep the flames from reaching other houses.”

Thus continued a long night of labor for the Norsemen as they moved from crisis to crisis, and began to forge an unshakeable bond with their new found allies. In all, they were able to rescue over two dozen people and save even more homes by halting the spread of the fires. Along the way, many of them picked up some English phrases they could use to communicate more effectively with the Englanders. The English soldiers they worked close beside even began to understand some of the Old Norse language as they labored through the long hours together. When dawn began to break over Barrow-in-Furness the group returned bone-weary to the underground structure, collapsing into an exhausted sleep in one of the many rooms along the hallway that led to the war room.