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By now everyone was in a more cheerful mood, thoughts of being captured by the enemy had gone and some organisation was in hand. We were to make our way to Ballanger which was about 24 kilometres distant following the coast road. Norwegians with vehicles had volunteered to transport the wounded but for those uninjured and able to walk it was "shanks' pony"

We set off in small groups along the snowbound road, the top layer becoming quite slushy due to the spring thaw setting in. Our group consisted of torpedomen in various rigs of attire which included items of female clothes and a variety of footwear, one poor devil struggling along with his feet bound in old newspapers. One of the heroines of the whole episode, the good lady, Mrs Christiansen, was at the door of her house with her husband and daughter waving goodbye and good luck to the motley throng of ship-wrecked mariners who had so suddenly descended on them that morning.

Tired and hungry we traipsed on, occasionally being overtaken by vehicles carrying the wounded, their tyres wrapped in chains. It was sometime before I remembered the Ensign left behind hidden in the snow. It was too late to go back, but I was certainly peeved after all the trouble I had gone to bringing it off the ship!

At one point where the road neared the edge of the fjord we stopped to look at a huge blackened crater on the shore line and came to the conclusion that a torpedo (probably an enemy one)had tore into the beach and exploded.

After a while we sighted what seemed like a small farmstead just off the road. We were determined to try our luck for a mouthful to eat. We knocked on the door and were immediately taken inside and sat down while the farmers wife set to to make hot coffee. A few minutes later we were feasting on hard boiled eggs and bread and butter. Some of the lads were having a twiddle on a small radio to see if they could pick up any English broadcasts but not having much luck.

It was soon time to continue our journey but before we went we had a whip round for the householder. We did not know what he could do with English money but out came the recently paid out two shilling pieces; there was a look of surprise on his face when we made him accept them. At the door he noticed the lad with the shredded newspaper around his feet and pointing down he immediately whipped off his own shoes indicating that he should put them on which he did. Just one of the gestures of the kindly Norwegiens.

Late that afternoon we were within a few kilometers of our destination in Ballanger- a wooden school building.We passed two girls by a gateway, well and truely muffled up in their winter outfits and wearing skis. We did a friendly grin and amazingly one of them, a young fair girl, called out in perfect English - "That's where you are going!" and pointed out the school on some high ground. We chatted for a few minutes and asked her what she thought of the Germans invading her country and our intrusion at Narvik, but we didn't think she fully understood the situation then.

The haven of the school at last, we were the last to arrive. There was nothing much left in the way of food and the sleeping blankets had been long taken. A nurse came over to ask if we had any injuries and I suddenly thought of the blow I had received when abandoning ship. I went to pull my trousers down and she said I had better see the doctor! I had a good look myself and saw that I had received a nasty smack just inside my left knee, no skin was broken but from my knee downwards to my ankle was one huge bruise. I came to the conclusion I had been hit by a flat piece of metal, probably shrapnel, but funnily enough it had not bothered me. Although dead tired and lying on bare boards I couldn't sleep. I just went over the events of the past few days and wondered about the future,here we were trapped in Norway inside the Artic circle. I wondered what was going to happen next.

Next morning we were told to make our way down to a local Community Hall to get a meal- boiled potatoes and boiled white fish.It was satisfying but nowhere near enough to appease our starving pangs of hunger. We lived on this fare, more or less, during our stay in Ballanger. The Norwegiens were at their wits end as to how to feed us and to increase the problem, a large number of British Merchantmen had joined up with us making a total of over 200 men.

Before the attack on Narvik the Germans had rounded up several crews of British merchant ships, one was the North Cornwall. The crews were locked up in their supply ships, but when Warbuton-Lee's Destroyers caused such havoc, the Germans were so confused not knowing who or what was attacking them, they released their prisoners and told them to get the hell out of it as quick as they could. Consequently the men made their way to Ballanger and joined up with Hardy's crowd. During our time there we were told to keep to small numbers as at one time a formation of aircraft flew over and no-one was certain whether they were the enemy or not.

As my wellintons were drawing my feet badly and other lads needed items of clothing, several of us visited the local shops. I managed to purchase a heavy pair of ski boots and was quite taken aback when the young lady assistant accepted my last ten shilling note as payment! The boots were eventually given away by my mother to a chap named Tom Swannick in the village where I was born! Other men were kitted up in Norwegian ski suits complete with cap, my mate Joe Sweetland was extremely proud of his new outfit. I did not need any change of clothes as my smart ex T.L's outfit would pass anywhere. The whole idea was disguise as no-one was certain where the Germans were but by the end of the first day in Ballanger we resembled and could pass for any of the locals, that is until we were spoken to in Norwegien! I met the girl again who spoke English to us on our way in, she said she had been evacuated from Narvik and was staying with her Grandfather. She rooted around for any of his old clothes and handed them to us.

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