ICON - THE MARIUS ERICKSON STORY
A few years back, we put together a story about the portraits of Royal Air Force fighter pilots by the outstanding Second World War artists Cuthbert Orde and Erik Kennington. One of those hundreds of portraits stood out from the rest in that it embodied what I am sure the Royal Air Force perceived to be the essence of the fighter pilot —youth, clarity of purpose, casual demeanour in the face of mortality, the epitome of good looks meant to inspire a nation and make young women swoon. Despite representing the RAF's archetype, it was not the portrait of a man from Great Britain, or even the Commonwealth. It was, rather, the portrait of a Norwegian teenager. Since then, I have searched the Internet for material about the young man from Oslo portrayed by Kennington in 1942. The young man, a boy by today's standards, turned out to be much, much more than a beautiful face and a striking pose.
Everything I managed to find about this man, I found on the Internet. Though there exists an official biography (Marius—Skiløper-Jageress-Krigsfange, Historien om Marius Eriksen by Cato Guhnfeldt) it is in Norwegian and while the book would have helped me put together some missing bits in the young man's life, there is easily enough scattered across the internet to tell a compelling story of a warrior and a sporting man who stood for both family honour and national pride. The story has a strong Canadian connection too, for the young man and his Norwegian comrades were trained in Canada, and many, like him, fought tenaciously in the skies over the small French coastal town of Dieppe on August 19, 1942. Below them, on the stony beaches of that now legendary place, Canadian raiders died by the many hundreds.
This is much more than the story of a dramatic painting of a handsome man. It is the story of a determined Norwegian youth and the future of his country that hinged around him and his camrades, and about his contributions to Norwegian culture that linger to this day. Dave O'Malley
“For King, Country and Honour of the Flag”
War, for any nation caught in its misfortunate grip, can be a fiery forge of national identity. Victory or humiliation in conflict can serve to shape the national consciousness and international persona of countries for generations beyond armistice. Canada traces its unique patriotic identity to the Battle of Vimy Ridge, a witheringly deadly day in the First World War when Canada snapped the last colonial cord that bound her to Great Britain. One just has to look at the emergence of Nazism in the wake of Germany’s humiliation in the First World War to know that victory is not the only sculptor. The fighting forces of nations understand that, in these cataclysmic times of war, they are not just caught up in history but are the navigators of its course. The Royal Air Force, not much more than 20 years old when the Second World War began, fully grasped that history was in the making and that, one day, these events and the people that populated them would fill new halls in old museums and redefine the image of the nation.
To a nation at war, symbols and heroes are the antidote to fear and privation. Stories of duty, courage and victory, even posthumous ones, give hope to a population with little, inject stiffness into the backbone of the common man and create idols before which a nation kneels. In the forging of these great heroic avatars, the Royal Air Force employed everything at their disposal—The London Gazette, news reels, Flying and Victoria Crosses, medal-pinning events at Buckingham Palace, public relations teams and even a number of prominent war artists and portraitists.
The RAF engaged the talents of a number of these artists early in the war to capture the spirit of the aerial fighting man and to build a painterly pantheon of heroes that would inspire the populace and elevate the personas of selected airmen—artists like William Rothenstein, Charles Cundell, Allen Gwynne-Jones, John Mansbridge, Henry Lamb, and the two most prolific and important of them all—Cuthbert Orde and Erik Kennington.
Kennington and Orde were offered full-time and salaried positions with the Air Ministry and travelled the country visiting air bases to sketch and paint aircrew or had them come to their London studios. In most cases, the RAF selected the pilots and aircrew, mostly recent recipients of decorations for courage or combat successes. The RAF made sure that this included the contributions of foreign nationals in the air force—Free French, Poles, Czechs, Canadians, Belgians, Australians, South Africans, New Zealanders and Norwegians. The prolific Orde preferred to sketch in charcoal and white chalks and his large oeuvre of fighter pilot portraits is synonymous with the Battle of Britain and pre-Normandy fighter operations. For my taste though, I prefer the more dramatic chiaroscuro of Erik Kennington's pastel drawings—hints of battle dress blue, flashes of ribbons, oily Mae Wests, and the curiously contradictory auras of strain and serenity, all emerging from the depths of a dramatic atmosphere.
Of Kennington's many fine portraits of this time, one stands out for me more than any other for its portrayal of the archetypal warrior—the iconic portrait of Royal Norwegian Air Force Spitfire fighter ace Sergeant Marius Eriksen Jr. of 332 Squadron, Royal Air Force. Illuminated from the right by some future and better world, Eriksen sits in calm repose, his bright and clear eyes contemplating some distant mortal task. A lock of his hair falls casually yet somehow deliberately across his beatific brow. A stylish red scarf flares at his throat. There is a bare hint of distaste in his countenance, perhaps for the tasks he is asked to carry out, perhaps for the vanity of the sitting. There is also no denying his extreme good looks—some would say that of a Nordic deity, a matinee idol, a fashion model or perhaps a sports hero. In truth, Marius Eriksen was all of this, and much more.
Marius Eriksen was born to a Norwegian family of remarkable accomplishment. His father, Marius the senior, was an Olympic athlete, lifelong outdoorsman, inventor and businessman. He competed for Norway in team gymnastics at the 1912 Olympics in Stockholm, winning a bronze medal. He was also a top competitor in Nordic combined events in Scandinavia, skiing from the Telemark region of Norway, where modern high-speed downhill skiing was invented. Marius Sr. parlayed his Olympic fame into a position as the head of the sporting department at Oslo's famed Gunerius Pettersen department store (still functioning today). From this point forward, Eriksen became known as a ski equipment expert and inventor, soon opening his own shop—Eriksen Sport of Oslo. His fortunes grew with his patents. He was the inventor of the “Eriksen Toeplate”, a revolutionary ski binding that we, who are old enough, remember as the “bear trap” binding. The bear trap binding was standard equipment for soldiers of the US Army's 10th Mountain Division during the Second World War and remained in common use until the 1960s and the arrival of the heel and toe release binding. He and his wife Birgit, nicknamed “Bitten”, also an accomplished ski racer, had two sons —Marius Jr. and Stein. Both of these two sons of the Eriksens would, in time, become heroic and cultural figures for their nation—each in his own way icons of Norwegian courage and prowess. While the story of younger brother Stein is widely known in the Western United States and around the alpine skiing universe, the story of Marius Eriksen Jr., his older brother is more complex and, for a student of aviation history, more compelling.
Related Stories
Click on image
Marius was born December 8 (actually as I am writing this, I realize that today is also December 8, 95 years to the day he was born!), 1922 in the city of Kristiania, Norway. (originally Oslo, the city's name was changed to Kristiania in 1877, but reverted to Oslo in 1925, three years after Marius Eriksen's birth). He grew up in a sporting environment, focused on the growing sport of downhill skiing and achieved considerable success in both slalom and ski-jumping, and competed at the FIS World Championships at Zakopane, Poland in February, 1938—the last word-class European ski meet for the next 8 years. Following the Second World War, he became the Norwegian slalom champion in 1947 and 1948.
Because of his family's strong ties with the German and Austrian skiing community (see above photo), the Eriksen family was under unfounded suspicion of collusion with the Nazis. Six months after Operation Weserübung (the 1940 German Invasion of Norway) young Marius Eriksen got permission from his parents to leave Norway and join the fight against the Nazis in order demonstrate his family's loyalty. He made his way to the small northern seaport of Ålesund, from where he travelled to Scotland. Åselund was known as “Little London” during the Nazi occupation, for the intense level of resistance activity in the area, some of it orchestrated by British agents. Among other activities, the city was central to clandestine flights between Norway and Scotland/England and as one of the launch points for the famed “Shetland Bus” runs. The Shetland Bus was a nickname for a program of clandestine voyages made by Norwegian fishermen and sailors on behalf of the British Secret Intelligence Service (SIS) and Special Operations Executive (SOE). During the war, the Shetland Bus service carried 192 agents and 383 tons of weapons, radios and explosives into Norway and extracted 73 agents and 373 refugees. It is likely that a blond, blue-eyed teenager by the name of Marius Eriksen was one of these refugees. He was just 17, courageous and bold, and he had a plan to become a fighter pilot, clear his family's name and fight for his country against Nazi oppression.
Following the Nazi invasion, the Norwegian government in exile decided that escaped airmen of the Norwegian Army Air Service and the Royal Norwegian Navy Air Service would be kept together to form a unit independent from the Royal Air Force. That is why we do not see their participation in the Battle of Britain as we do Poles, Free French or Belgians. For these already trained pilots and airmen as well as young Norwegian men (boys in the case of Eriksen) who wanted to join the air force at this time, it was necessary first to cross the icy and U-boat infested North Atlantic to Canada, where Norway had set up a independent training facility in Toronto, Ontario for the ab-initio training of pilots, navigators and ground crew. This facility operated from a municipal airport on Centre Island, just a few meters off the north shore of Lake Ontario. This Centre Island facility and its shore-based barracks, administration buildings and classrooms would soon be known as Little Norway—a moniker that would soon extend to a second facility in the Muskoka region north of Toronto. Little Norway, in Ontario, would become the birthplace of the modern Royal Norwegian Air Force when the Army and Navy air services were eventually combined in 1944.
Arriving in Toronto, Eriksen lived with fellow pilot trainees in barracks that had been hastily built along the Lake Ontario shore of Toronto's harbour. Here, in Little Norway's training buildings and, across a short channel known as the Western Passage, at Centre Island's recently completed municipal airport, the now 18-year old Eriksen began an “all-through” program that covered the whole gamut of training—drill, air force code, basic aeronautics, navigation, link trainers and elementary and service flying training. Marius and his fellow Norwegians who came directly from England in late 1940, were to take their advanced flying training and earn their wings at Little Norway. However, sometime in 1941, it was decided that those student pilots destined for fighter aircraft would complete their Service Flying Training at No.32 SFTS Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan. It is not known whether Eriksen finished up his training in Saskatchewan.
Little can be found concerning Eriksen's months in Canada, but I did find a brief piece in a Montréal newspaper that indicated that it was not all flying and study during his stay. It showed young Marius and a larger group of Norwegian alpine athletes changing trains in Montréal on their way to ski in New Hampshire and take in the activities and co-eds of Dartmouth College's annual winter carnival. They all seemed to be wearing matching coats and were possibly representing some sort of national team.
Upon completion of his training and the award of his Norwegian pilot's wings, Marius Eriksen and a large number of newly-minted Norwegian pilots ran the U-boat gauntlet again and returned to England—the growing nucleus of Norway's emerging fighter pilot cadre.
Originally, the Norwegians had planned to have an entirely independent air force (command structure, aircraft and pilots) operating from England. By the time Eriksen and his cohort arrived back in England, the situation had changed somewhat. While the Norwegians would keep their rank structure and insignia, they were now to join Norwegian-staffed squadrons of the Royal Air Force. These were 330 Squadron (a coastal patrol and anti-submarine unit formed at Reykjavik, Iceland in April of 1941), 331 and 332 Squadrons (Spitfire fighter units formed at RAF Catterick in July of 1941 (331) and in January of 1942 (332)). Later, 333 Squadron would form at RAF Leuchars as a Coastal Command attack squadron. The intense feelings of national pride, the determination to extinguish the Nazi occupation of their homeland and their close national and cultural bond can be clearly felt in the choices for the squadrons' mottos—331's: “For Norway”; 333's: “For King, Country and the Honour of the Flag” and 332's: “Together into Battle”.
Following a brief time at an Operational Training Unit, Eriksen began his fighter pilot career with 331 Squadron at RAF Catterick in late 1941 on Spitfire Vbs, and then in January of 1942 when 331 moved off to RAF Castletown and Skaebrae in the extreme north of Scotland, he was sent to 332 Squadron which was just then forming up at Catterick. Once the squadron was fully operational, it was transferred to RAF North Weald, where, in March of 1942, it was joined by 331 Squadron to form part of 132 Wing, Royal Air Force.
Beginning in the spring of 1942, Eriksen and the other pilots of 332 Squadron took to the skies from their base at RAF North Weald to the north east of the city of London. From the outset, the pace of operations was ceaseless, with pilots flying whenever the weather permitted, sometimes two and three sorties a day. There were both defensive scrambles to intercept interloping enemy aircraft as well as all types of offensive operations across the North Sea to the littoral regions of the Netherlands and France in squadron and wing strength. The squadron operations record books* (ORBs) record an endless litany of “Rodeos, Rhubarbs, Ramrods, Rangers and Circuses”. Circuses and Ramrods were short-range, daytime bomber operations that were covered or escorted by fighters like the Spitfires of the North Weald wing. Rhubarbs, Rangers and Rodeos were different types of freelance or independent fighter sweeps looking for enemy fighters or targets of opportunity on the ground. Marius Eriksen would grind his way through more than a year of these extremely dangerous sorties, taking the fight to the hated Germans. One-by-one, his friends and mentors would be shot from the sky. He would, over the next year and a bit, become the squadron's highest scoring ace, thought by many in his squadron to be their most talented—this in a wing of high-scoring and aggressive fighter pilots. Reading the ORBs of the next 14 months, we see in Eriksen a gifted pilot with excellent situational awareness and an ability to husband his ammunition to allow himself to stay in the fight longer.
It would be nearly four months after being declared operational before a 332 Squadron Spitfire pilot was able to claim a confirmed victory over an enemy aircraft. That man would be its youngest.
On July 30, 1942, a full complement of twelve 332 Squadron Spitfires, led by Major Mohr, took off from RAF North Weald at 1145 hours for a “Rodeo”—a fighter sweep in force over enemy territory. The weather was clear at North Weald, but visibility was poor over the North Sea with mist up to 5,000 feet. Ten miles from France however, the sky cleared somewhat with 5/10ths cumulus along the coast and inland. The squadron kept low level, crossing the coast at Pevensay Bay at “zero feet” and course to target area was made at sea level. Fifteen miles from the French Coast and over the North Sea, the wing made its operational altitude of 15,000 feet near the port and resort town of Le Touquet, near larger city of Calais. The Spitfires of 332 Squadron orbited briefly off Le Touquet then orbited several more times off the enemy coast a bit farther south near the town of Berck.
Green Section of 332 Squadron was made up of Sergeant Jan Løfsgaard (Green 1) and his 19-year old wingman and best friend Sergeant Marius Eriksen (Green 2) in a Spitfire V (BL314). The two friends had climbed to 18,000 feet during the orbit and were engaged by several “M.E. 109s” in line-abreast coming from directly behind and high (though officially designated Bf 109s, the single-engine Messerschmitt fighters were generally called Me-109s or M.E. 109s by pilots and intelligence officers. We use the official Bf designation (for Bayerische Flugseugwerke (Bavarian Aircraft Works)) from now on).
Løfsgaard and Eriksen made to engage the 109s, but were unable to catch them due to the steep climb of the enemy aircraft as they peeled away. Eriksen was then attacked by four more Bf 109s. He turned hard to port and called up Løfsgaard but got no answer. Turning hard three or four times, flicking from left to right, Eriksen attempted to escape his pursuer who still managed a wide deflection shot that scored hits on the young Norwegian’s tail. Eeriness managed to get in position behind an enemy aircraft, loosing a long burst of machine gun fire that found no hits.
He was soon pursued aggressively by several enemy fighters and dove through the clouds to escape, pulling out alone over the North Sea at about 3,000 feet. Unable to find Løfsgaard or any other aircraft from the squadron or even wing, he set course for North Weald and home. South of Le Tourquet he sighted a pair of Focke Wulf Fw 190s heading due south across the water at “zero feet”. He abandoned his plan to head home and turned to attack the last one, firing a three-second burst from 300-350 yards away. As the enemy aircraft approached the coast, Eriksen remained off shore to avoid coastal flak batteries. Despite not being able to chase them, he witnessed smoke issuing from the Fw 190 and shortly thereafter saw the pilot crash land at high-speed with the wheels up on the sand banks north of Berck. The aircraft bounced violently several times, then dove into the water off the beach.
Eriksen, now low on fuel, made for home, low over the North Sea, and landed at RAF Tangmere where he refuelled and then flew home to North Weald, landing at 1440 hours, nearly three hours after taking off. Eriksen claimed the very first victory of the squadron over an enemy aircraft—verified by his gun camera footage. Løfsgaard was also able to claim one Fw 190 damaged. Eriksen was back in the air three hours later for a second rodeo of the day.
Three weeks later, on the bight sunny morning of August 19, 1942, as Canadian Army infantrymen and British commandos were fighting and dying on the stony beach of the small coastal town of Dieppe, 332 Squadron launched at 0630 from RAF Manston along with other elements of the North Weald wing to provide air cover for ships and the Canadians of Operation Jubilee. Eriksen, in Spitfire V BL634 was patrolling at 6-7000 feet along with the other pilots of 332 Squadron, when the Norwegians sighted enemy aircraft coming in from the north in sections of three and four aircraft. After chasing off the enemy, the squadron continued to circle the town of Dieppe all the while fending off continuous attacks by German Fw 190s. During the give-and-take fight the squadron lost two aircraft (Per Bergsland and Jan Staubo, both of whom were captured) but scored three victories including Fw 190s shot down by Eriksen and Løfsgaard.
Those who survived the Dieppe fight waited at Manston until their Spitfires were patched, fuelled and re-armed and were off again shortly after 1100 hrs and for the next two hours were heavily involved in aerial combat with Dornier Do 217s and other aircraft. At one point in the fight, Marius Eriksen was diving though cloud chasing enemy aircraft when he saw two Do 217s going in the opposite and southerly direction. He turned to attack them, firing long bursts in several attacks. He saw one of the crew bail out but his chute did not open. The Dornier then rolled onto its back and dived into the sea from 2,000 feet, trailing black oily smoke. He overflew the site of the crash and saw only oil and wrecked bits of the aircraft, but no survivors. Eriksen’s’ friend Løfsgaard was shot down but was picked up by RAF rescue launch. The men landed back at Manston at 1310 hrs and took lunch while their aircraft were refuelled and rearmed. An hour later, at 1415, Eriksen and his squadron mates took off for the third time and headed back to Dieppe.
On the way, a sad event happened when pilot Løytnant (Lieutenant) Kristiansen shot down what he thought was an enemy aircraft that turned out to be a Hawker Typhoon. The wing shape of the Typhoon and the Fw 190 were very similar and it was such a problem that Typhoons often flew with D-Day-style wing stripes to help friendly pilots tell them apart. The Typhoon pilot did not survive. The squadron flew on to their position over Dieppe and again engaged in running gun battles, inflicting damage on the enemy and taking damage themselves. They landed again at Manston at 4 pm, exhausted and numb. Eriksen and some of the men were changed out for fresh pilots and, after tea and a rest, the squadron was back in the air for a fourth time at 18:50 hrs, bound for air cover duty over the retreating convoy from the failed Dieppe Raid. They arrived over the convoy at 19:10 and departed for home 35 minutes later without contacting the enemy. It was a terrible day for the Canadians on the beaches of Dieppe, but the squadron Operations Record Book summed up 332’s day on a more positive note: “At 2125 hrs, Sgt. Pilots had a Rendezvous with the Officers at Doon-House, and an attack was launched in the bar. It had been a hard day but everybody were [sic] happy. We had been able to hit back with success on those who brought our country into the war.” Eriksen's’ score now stood at three.
Eriksen continued on steady combat operations throughout the rest of 1942, but did not score another aerial victory or damaged enemy aircraft until mid-February of 1943. By this time, he was a 2nd Lieutenant (Fenrik—He had been commissioned in December of 1942) and had a Distinguished Flying Medal, US Silver Star and Norwegian War Cross with Swords. On the 3rd, he had a probable against a Focke Wulf Fw 190 over the Dieppe-Caveux area of the French coast. Finally, on the 15th, his luck changed for the better. During his second sortie of the day, Eriksen launched with other 332 Squadron Spitfires at 1505 hrs in Spitfire IX BS249, bound for the Dunkirk area to assist 20 B-24 Liberator bombers attacking an armed merchant ship. While escorting the bombers home, 332 Squadron pilots engaged the enemy and Eriksen shot down his fourth enemy aircraft—a Focke Wulk Fw 190.
This battle resulted in all aircraft being split up, including some of the bombers. Each made their own way home. Eriksen was following a damaged Liberator home, making sure it was safe, when he spotted an Fw 190 down on the deck and attacked it. He was unable to close the distance, but gave the enemy aircraft an eight-second burst of machine gun fire from dead astern. The result was that the enemy aircraft dived in the sea and disappeared without a trace. Turning his attention back to the Liberator, he saw it belly into the sea off the Kentish coast near Manston. He circled the spot covering the men in their life rafts until a high-speed launch arrived on scene. He landed alone at North Weald by 1640 hrs. His score now tallied five, making him a “jageress” or fighter ace, the squadron's first.
March 12, 1943 was warm and fair when twelve 332 Squadron Spitfires including Eriksen in Spitfire BS248 were scrambled at 0700 hrs from RAF North Weald to intercept raiders possibly making for the London area. Despite aggressively following the vectors they were given, they never saw the enemy aircraft and landed back home at 0840 hrs. Just before noon, they were in the air again, this time escorting B-17 Fortresses over France at 22,000 feet to a target near Rouen. The target was reached without incident, but as they left the area, they were attacked by enemy fighters — both Bf 109s and Fw 190s. A mile west of Rouen, Marius Eriksen (Blue 3) shot down one of the Fw 190s that was attacking his Blue Section leader. The squadron brought the Fortresses home to the English coast and landed safely at 1350 hrs. Before the day was over, they were in the air once again over Belgium and France.
The pace of operations was staggering with up to three sorties a day, but the morale of the squadron was high. The next day, Eriksen was up twice, but his day’s highlight was his award of the St. Olav’s Medal from the Royal Norwegian Air Force for “Bravery and personal skill in combat with the enemy on January 22, 1943 and also for long distinguished service against the enemy.” St. Olav's Medal with Oak Branch is a Norwegian military award, which was instituted by King Haakon VII of Norway on 6 February 1942. Of Norwegian war medals, it is ranked second only to the War Cross. The date of January 22, 1943, while, mentioned specifically in the medal citation quoted in the March ORB, is strange in that the January ORB clearly shows that Eriksen did not fly on operations between January 15 and the 29th. Though the fighting was continuous, Eriksen's score remained at six for nearly a month.
On April 4th, Eriksen increased his tally by one confirmed Messerschmitt Bf 109 shot down and another damaged in one of the squadron’s favourite hunting grounds—the skies around the coastal town of Dieppe. The squadron was returning from a Ramrod—supporting short-range bomber attacks on coastal targets. The weather was fine and clear. Eriksen was flying BS255, a Mk IX Spitfire. At ten minutes to 3 PM, the fight started and five minutes later it was all over.
Eriksen’s signed combat report states: “I was flying as Blue 3 and as we were about 15 miles outside the French Coast on the way back, the whole of Blue section turned round to attack about 8-10 Me-109’s behind us at about 5-6,000 feet below. We each picked out a single aircraft but were interrupted in the attack by four Me-109’s coming in from 4 o’clock and I gave the order to break to starboard. I met one of these e/a [enemy aircraft] head-on 20 degrees deflection and fired a 3-4 seconds burst. I saw strikes and a hole in front of the tail, but we missed each other. I was now at 18-20,000 feet and I dived down on two more Me-109’s about 10,000 feet below me. One appeared to see my attack and broke away but the other went straight on and I gave him a 2-3 seconds burst closing in from 300-100 yards. I saw some strikes but no smoke or flames. He went over on his back and down into the sea without the pilot baling out. The other e/a went home”
Two weeks later on a clear and sunny April 20 (Hitler’s 54th birthday), Fenrik Eriksen in Spitfire IX EN177 and other pilots of 332 Squadron were scrambled after 1100 hrs from RAF North Weald to intercept interloping Luftwaffe bombers coming in over the North Sea. They were ordered to proceed to a high perch at 30,000 feet over Clacton-on-Sea on the south coast of Essex on the Tendring Peninsula. Once there, they were vectored due east 10 miles to 34,000 feet over the North Sea to find the enemy. Eriksen’s own words tell us what happened next: “We did this and followed the smoke trails [vapour trails] of an aircraft. We went up into the sun as the aircraft turned to port and went S.E. and then I saw it was a Ju.88. My No.2 was then about 500 yards behind me. I was about 350 yards away when I got on his tail and closed in easily to 250 yards. I gave 1 burst (1 Sec.) and the port engine caught fire. After the second burst, bits flew off and I just managed to give a third burst but the e/a went over on his its back and exploded. At this time smoke and flames came out and one of the crew bailed out. I led my section back and landed at base”.
The Junkers, a Ju 88T prototype, was flown by 31-year old test-pilot Leutnant Hans-Joachim Bäumer of the special operation unit Versuchsversband Oberbefehlshaber der Luftwaffe (VOdL), on a photo recce operation originating in Orly, France with a refuelling stop at Amsterdam's Schiphol Airport. Bäumer and his crew (observer/navigator Leutnant Paul Hunold and radio operator Oberfeldwebel Hermann Dietz) were to take photos of the Marconi Works in Chelmsford. They never got there, Bäumer aborting the mission when he spotted the attacking aircraft. The only member of the three-man crew who managed to bail out was Bäumer himself. He was picked up in his dinghy, unconscious and with facial burns, by Air-Sea Rescue Boat No.7 out of Brightlingsea. Parts of Bäumer's Ju 88 have been recovered from the bottom of the Thames estuary—unearthed by a dredging rig in 2011.
The combat records for 332 Squadron are extremely detailed—down to the number of rounds expended from each cannon or machine gun, broken down into port and starboard weapons, and including those of his wingman Sergeant Kare Herfjord. On this particular day, Eriksen's three short bursts used up 100 rounds from each of his two 20 mm cannons and 250 rounds from each of his four Browning .303 machine guns.
As detailed as these ORBs and Combat records are, the entire combat record for Eriksen's next victory on May 2, 1943 is missing from the aggregated 332 Squadron combat record. It was a memorable day for the squadron and Eriksen, but for very different reasons. It was during Eriksen’s and the squadron’s second op of the day. The first was an uneventful mission to Barrow Deep, one of the three main shipping channels through the shoals of the Thames Estuary, on a relatively fair day, with clouds increasing as the afternoon progressed. They were in the air just after 1500 hrs and had landed back 45 minutes later. At 1745 hrs, the squadron met in the briefing room again to go over plans for a 12 Group operation called Ramrod 51, the short-range bombing of targets in the Walcheren Island area of the Scheldt Estuary. The Spitfires of 332 Squadron were to carry out a covering sweep of the Flushing area at the southwest end of the island.
At 1830 hrs, 11 Spitfires from 332 Squadron, led by Major Finn Thorsager, took off from their home base at North Weald, in the company of a similar group from 331 Squadron, the other Norwegian Spitfire unit. The entire North Weald Wing, led by Wing Commander Patrick G. Jameson, DSO, DFC flew at wave-top level across the North Sea until shortly after 1900 hrs, when the group climbed rapidly for altitude, helped by a strong headwind. The entire Wing passed the northern tip of Walcheren, sweeping out to the east as far as Tholen Island in the Oosterschelde channel. Today would be a difficult day for the pilots of the North Weald Wing, shooting six enemy aircraft down, but for the unacceptable price of the loss of four of its own pilots (Nils Fuglesang, Rolf Engelsen, Frederik Eitzen and Eriksen, the top Norwegian ace at the time). Eriksen, who was flying in Spitfire BS225 (AH-T), managed to shoot down another Focke Wulf Fw 190—this one flown by experienced Luftwaffe fighter pilot Hauptmann Deitrich Wickop. Wickop executed a wheels-up landing with no injuries and little damage to his Fw 190. Though Wickop would soon return to combat operations, Eriksen counted his 9th victory but would end his combat career here.
The 332 Squadron ORB for May of 1943 states: “Just east of Walcheren Blue section of this squadron dived to attack two F.W. 190's some 1500 feet below to port. Blue 2, 2/Lt. Isachsen followed his No.1, 2/Lt. Eriksen, and reports that Blue 1 [Eriksen] destroyed one of the F.W. 190's—seeing it dive down and catch fire. At this point Blue 1 and Blue 2 were attacked by 5 F.W. 190's from starboard quarter and slightly above. Blue 2 had to take violent evasive action, and when he was able to look in the direction of his No.1, 2/Lt. Eriksen, he saw no Spitfire, but a pilot descending by parachute some 2000 feet below over Walcheren Island. Yellow 1, Lieut. Ulstein E. [Egil Ultsein, who went on to a stellar diplomatic career -Ed.], reports having seen Blue Section diving to attack and later saw a Spitfire explode—this was probably the aircraft of Blue 1, 2/Lt. Eriksen, D.F.M. who is missing from this operation.”
Eriksen, Norway's highest scoring ace and 332 Squadron's most gifted pilot, was about to face two long years of deprivation in Stalag Luft III, the famed German camp for air force Prisoners of War in Poland. The camp is famous for a mass breakout of Allied airmen on the cold late winter night of March 24, 1944, known as the Great Escape. I could not find information about Eriksen's time at Stalag Luft III, but there is no doubt in my mind that he had some important part in day-to-day subterfuge and resistance and the planning of the Great Escape (which involved 600 inmates). Perhaps he was waiting in line to escape when the tunnel was discovered. The plan was to get 200 men out through the tunnel overnight in two groups of 100. The 77th man emerging from the tunnel was discovered and it is my opinion that Eriksen, a determined Norwegian if there ever was one, was one of those remaining 123 men who did not make it out. Only three men made good their escape—a Dutchman (Bram van der Stok) and two Norwegians, Per Bergsland of Eriksen's 332 Squadron and Jens Müller of 331 Squadron, both of whom were shot down a year before Eriksen. Two other Norwegians, Nils Jørgen Fuglesang (332 Squadron) and Halldor Espelid (331 Squadron) managed to escape but were soon captured and were among the 50 recaptured Allied escapees who were murdered by the Gestapo. Given four Norwegian Spitfire pilots were among the 77 who got out, it is likely Eriksen was scheduled to join them. Bergsland and Müller made it to Sweden via the port of Stettin, while van der Stok made his way south to Spain and was the only man from the Great Escape to make it back to his squadron and to eventually continue the fight against the Nazis.
In January of 1945, nearly a year after the glory and the tragedy of the Great Escape, with the Red Army only a few miles away from Stalag Luft III, Eriksen and 11,000 other Allied prisoners of war were forced by their German guards to march west, in brutal sub-zero temperatures, towards Spremberg on the Spree River. The prisoners had little food or warm clothing, and many died along the route. The remaining prisoners were then dispersed to other PoW camps. Eriksen was eventually liberated by British Army soldiers advancing westward through Germany.
So ended the Second World War experience of Marius Eriksen Jr..
Business man and film actor
Marius Eriksen had left Norway a determined teenaged-boy and had come home a national icon and legend. All the Little Norway pilots and aircrews were the heroes of a nation that had endured five long years of Nazi occupation and general deprivation. Marius' fellow Norwegian pilots, their Spitfire aircraft, RAF Squadron numbers and their powerful and glorious history also returned to Norway to form the nucleus of the modern Royal Norwegian Air Force.
Marius, still a young man at this point, picked up where he had left his career as a competitive downhill ski racer. During the 1948 Winter Olympics at St. Moritz, Switzerland, Eriksen competed for Norway in the men's downhill, slalom and men's combined, but he had lost his edge somewhat with a 20th place showing in the downhill and even lower in slalom. His younger brother Stein also competed and ranked even lower, but he was a man in the rise. By the 1952 Winter Olympics in Oslo four years later, Stein Eriksen was Olympic Champion in Men's Giant Slalom, the first true superstar skier, known around the world.
While Marius was at Stalag Luft III, his mother, who designed knitting patterns for the famed Norwegian knitwear company Dale (named after the small town of Dale where the sweater manufacturer is based) after the war, had knit a sweater for her son based on one she had designed for her husband Marius Sr. years before. Upon his return, Bitten presented it to him as a token of her love and respect for what he had done for the family name. That sweater design, which later became known throughout Norway as the “Mariusgenser”, would forever be associated with the young fighter pilot and the country he fought to free, but it would not be without controversy. Both Bitten Eriksen and a friend, Unn Søyland, laid claim to the design, Eriksen claiming she had designed the iconic pattern in the 1920s for her husband and Søyland claiming that she had designed in the early 1950s, selling the rights to the pattern to a company her family still runs.
Eline Oftedal in the book Knit Nordic, wrote about the acrimony that arose from a dispute over Bitten Eriksen's sweater design for her husband and son. She writes:
“The birth of the Marius pattern is alike a dram from the knitting world, with some handsome downhill skiers and an Olympic gold medal thrown in for good measure.
“Handknit sweaters were the height of fashion in the postwar era, and many designers shared their creativity in knitting magazines and booklets published by yarn producers. Bitten Eriksen was a knitwear designer who created designs for a wool mill. She was also the mother of the well-known skiers Stein and Marius Eriksen; Stein won the gold medal at the Oslo Winter Olympics in 1952. The Marius pattern is a variety of the Setesdal pattern [a traditional Norwegian pattern-Ed.] rendered in the Norwegian flag colours of red, white and blue, and Bitten's published designs, modelled by her famous sons, became very popular and sold well. Another knitwear designer, Unn Søyland Dale, happened to work for the Eriksen's sports store in Oslo; she sold a pattern very similar to the Marius design to a rival wool mill [Sandnes Garn], thus triggering a dispute over property rights for what remains the most popular knitting pattern in Norway to this day.”
The Wikipedia page for the Mariusgenser has a slightly different story:
“The origin of the sweater has been subject to dispute in media. Designer Unn Søiland Dale said she designed the pattern in 1953, influenced by traditional Norwegian knitting patterns found in the 1929 book Norske Strikkemønstre (Norwegian knitting patterns) by Annichen Sibbern. She sold the legal rights to distribute the hand-knit pattern the same year to Sandnes Uldvarefabrik for 100 Norwegian kroner. Designer Bitten Eriksen said she designed the pattern in the later 1920s, also inspired by the book by Sibbern, and that she in the beginning of 1950s had hired women who hand-knitted the sweater for sale in her shop. Eriksen's daughter-in-law Bente Eriksen has said she was present when Dale visited Bitten Eriksen to learn the pattern. Dale strongly disputed Bitten Eriksen's version, as does Dale's daughter, Vigdis Yran Dale, who currently holds the rights to the pattern for most commercial use.”
And of course, in any dispute you have the other view. The following is part of a 1,500 word pro-Dale essay on the history of the Marius sweater on the Marius.no website (the company that owns the rights to the design and is managed by Dale's daughter) that makes no mention of Bitten Eriksen whatsoever, but includes 8 photos of Eriksen's sons wearing the design:
“The designer Unn Søiland sold her handknit pattern to Sandnes Wool factory in 1953, but retained the production rights as currently administered by Marius of Norway AS. The picture of Marius Eriksen, the Norwegian actor, warhero and skiier, promoted the front of the pattern in 1954.”
The story of the Mariusgenser (Marius Sweater) is a major part of Eriksen's story, and vice versa. Eriksen would become an actor in the early 1950s, appearing in three Norwegian language feature films—Trol i ord, Kasserer Jensen and Slålom under Himmelen. In his first film, a farce called Trol i ord, Marius wore several versions of the sweater. It was his role in the film and his national popularity as a skiing hero and a Second World War fighter ace that kicked off massive popularity of the Mariusgenser, a National design icon that continues to fuel the Norwegian clothing industry and inspire knitting enthusiasts worldwide.
Though Eriksen's downhill ski career peaked in 1948 at the Olympics, he made his life around the business of skiing and sports. He also followed in his father's footsteps; first working at the senior Marius' sporting goods store while he pursued his skiing career, then later, opening his own sporting goods store in Oslo. His involvement in downhill skiing moved from competitive racer to instructor and coach.
Marius married Bente Ording Eriksen and they had five children, one of whom, Beate, followed in her father's acting footsteps and became a film actress and director of some note.
Marius' older brother Stein gained worldwide fame in 1952 following his gold medal win at the Olympics in Oslo. It was shortly after this that he moved to the United States, where he lived until his death in 2015 at the age of 88.
Marius Eriksen remained in Norway, where his business interests, acting career and family kept him busy. He died in 2009 in Oslo (Kristiania), the same city he was born in, at the age of 86. His life and his legacy are those of an icon—of Norwegian youth, courage, determination, nationalism, culture and sport.
The Story of “Little Norway”
Prior to the Nazi invasion of France, the Netherlands and Belgium, the Nazis secured by invasion in early April of 1940 what they hoped would be the sympathetic Nordic countries of Denmark and Norway. Once ensconced in Norway, the Nazis put in place a puppet regime headed by the pro-fascist former Norwegian foreign minister Vidkun Quisling, a man whose very name would enter the English language as a synonym for traitor and insidious collaborator.
While they may have controlled the government, they failed to win the support of the Norwegian military or the proud and independent Norwegian populace. Norway had never surrendered to the Germans and the Royal family had not been captured, which rendered the Quisling government illegal and turned Norway into an Ally in the war rather than a conquered state.
At the time of the invasion, the two Norwegian military air services, the Norwegian Army Air Services and the Royal Norwegian Navy Air Service, in the throes of expansion and upgrading aircraft, could not mount a sustained defense. Two months after the invasion, the Royal Family, along with members of the legitimate government and high-ranking military leaders, left Norway for England aboard the Royal Navy heavy cruiser HMS Devonshire, there to begin offensive operations against the hated Nazis.
To truly contribute to the war effort with a 100% Norwegian response, the two Norwegian air services made two key decisions. First, they kept all existing Norwegian pilots and airmen as an independent group and dissuaded them from joining the Royal Air Force. That is why, that summer, when Free French, Czech, Polish and Belgian fighter pilots took to English skies to fight the Luftwaffe in the Battle of Britain, there were no Norwegians present. Secondly, expecting the possibility of Nazi aggression as early as 1939, they had made overtures in Canada to set up a training base where existing Norwegian airmen and new recruits could be sent to safely train for future and independent Norwegian offensive operations.
An arrangement had been made to make use of the new airport facilities** built on Centre Island, the largest of the Toronto Islands just a hundred meters off Toronto’s Lake Ontario waterfront. Facilities were quickly constructed on shore and on the island to house, feed, supply and train young pilots, navigators, gunners and ground crews and the base was officially called Flyvåpnenes Treningsleir (Air Force Training Camp). Canadians, as previously mentioned, soon dubbed it Little Norway — a name that was immediately and fully embraced by the Norwegians. Fittingly, the base was officially opened for training the day before Remembrance Day 1940. At the opening ceremonies, Norwegian Army Major General William Steffens, fresh from fighting the Nazis in the home country, said: “We Norwegians who are present have no more homes—our dear ones whom we left behind in Norway live under tyrants. But we stand here today resolved to play our part in liberating Norway”.
From the outset, the plan had been to feed new pilots and airmen into a separate Norwegian air force operating from Great Britain on operations against the Germans, but as 1940 came to a close and the base was opened, the plan changed to manning all-Norwegian squadrons of the Royal Air Force and under British overall command. In the years to come, these all-Norwegian squadrons would suffer terrible losses while covering themselves in glory and achievement. Two Spitfire squadrons, 331 and 332, were stood up at RAF Catterick and another, 330 Squadron, a coastal patrol and anti-submarine squadron was stood up and operated from RAF Reykjavik, Iceland. 331 Squadron would become the highest scoring RAF unit employed in the defense of London during the Second World War. At the outset, 330 Squadron operated the only Northrop N-3PB float planes in the RAF, but by 1942, had transitioned to the much larger and more effective Consolidated PBY-5A Catalina. Another, 333 Squadron was stood up from a 210 Squadron detachment in early 1942, flying both de Havilland Mosquitos (Shipping recce) and Catalinas (anti-shipping) in the cold waters between Scotland and Norway. The Mosquitos operated from RAF Leuchars while the Catalinas flew out of the flying boat station at Woodhaven. Eventually, the Mosquito detachment joined the famed Banff Strike Wing and became 334 Squadron, while 333 Squadron operated only the Catalina. Such was the Norwegian emotional attachment to these squadrons that the five squadron numbers (330, 331, 332, 333, and 334) were transferred to the new Royal Norwegian Air Force in November of 1944.
Today, all five squadrons continue to operate from bases in Norway—330 in the maritime role on Sea King Helicopters; 331 and 332 Squadron still fighter squadrons flying the F-16; 333 Squadron on Lockheed P3-C Orions and 334 on NH90 Helicopters.
A number of different and unique aircraft were acquired by the Norwegian air services to train fighter pilots as well as navigators and other operational pilots—these included PT-19 and PT-26 Cornells for elementary flying training, Douglas Model 8A-5s for advanced and other flying, Curtiss Hawk 75-A8s for operational fighter pilot training and Northrop N-3PBs for advanced operational floatplane training. A year or so of continuous training operations at Toronto's Little Norway served to highlight the drawbacks of high-intensity flight training in a dense urban environment. At the end of 1941, it was decided to seek out a new, more remote, location from which to conduct continuing training.
Several locations were scouted north of Toronto and the Norwegians settled on a very Norwegian-like environment—the airfield at Gravenhurst, Ontario at the southern end of the lake-country known as Muskoka. The surrounding lakes, hills and forests must have felt like home to the young men coming from Norway. Starting in May, construction began on improved facilities—better runways, a new hangar and a collection of Norwegian-like log structures to house, feed and train airmen. The money to build this new facility was supported in part by donations from the Norwgeian Merchant Marine service, which was then participating in the delivery of war materiel across the Atlantic.
Incoming Norwegian trainee airmen were first brought to another facility about 70 km farther north near the town of Huntsville. This camp-like facility, originally known as Interlaken, was purchased by the Norwegians as a sort of induction centre, where basic military training was conducted and men were physically toughened with hiking and physical training. The nature of the place, known to the Norwgeians as Vesla Skaugum (the name of King Haakon VII's retreat in Norway—literally Home in the Woods), was such that the young men would come to think of it as a place of respite, a home away from home. The forested country surrounding was ideal for hiking, survival training and cross-country skiing in winter. Part of the Norwegian training program in wingter included a thirty-seven kilometre cross-country ski race with airmen loaded down with military packsacks.
As the war wound down, it was decided to move the entire operation closer to the action. Goodbyes to their Canadian hosts were made at a hangar ceremony in Muskoka and the aircraft and equipment were crated and shipped to RAF Winkleigh in Devon, England along with Norwegian training staff. In England, AirSpeed Oxfords and Harvards were acquired to supplement the Cornell aircraft from Canada and training started again. At the end of the war, the Cornells and staff moved one more time—this time home.
The following set of images and captions tell only a bit of the story of the training operations at Little Norway (first at Centre Island, then at Gravenhurst), but the imagery is compelling indeed. These images, including many rare-for-the time colour photographs, depict the intense pace of training, two unique locales and the pride of the Norwegian people. Enjoy the flight.
Dave O'Malley, Vintage Wings of Canada
Muskoka — A Home Away from Home
* Whenever squadron ORBs (Operational Record Books) are quoted in this story, grammar, spelling and aircraft designations are not corrected. We have left the document as it was written by the squadron at the time)
** (In 1939, the newly-built airport was called Port George VI Island Airport in honour of the upcoming visit to Toronto by the King of England, but until 2009, it was known to Ontarians as simply the Toronto Island Airport. In 2009 it was renamed Billy Bishop Airport after William Avery Bishop, VC, a Canadian ace of the First World War.)