On Sundays I often tune in the Thomas Jefferson Hour on public radio. A creation of Clay Jenkinson, he assumes the character of Jefferson about whom he knows a great deal from his lifelong study of the man and his period of US history. In the second half of the show he sheds the Jefferson persona and steps back into present day reality to banter about a variety of topics with his co-host.
A recent program caught my attention when he talked of his experiences in Kansas on his then father-in-law’s farm. Jenkinson admitted that as a farmhand things didn’t go well for him with his assigned jobs. When he discussed the irrigation set-up on the farm, I knew full well what he meant. He rode along with his father-in-law to the head of the irrigation system where even today he expressed amazement at the memory of it. There, pumping water from deep in the Ogallala Aquifer sat two large engines running at high revolutions per minute while emitting a thunderous noise.
My own erstwhile experience in the irrigation business came to mind. Some years back I took a job with a dealer selling irrigation equipment because I wished for a change of occupations. While that never panned out, I remember one time when I accompanied the company’s irrigation specialist to a site he had designed and was very proud of. As we drove along he related how he applied formulas from the field of physics to design the system, especially those of hydraulics. When we arrived at the head, I saw the same thing Jenkinson saw: two large stationary engines sat side by side running full throttle while emitting an ear-rending thunderous roar that wailed from the power they generated. The very ground around them vibrated. The designer considered many factors: distance for water to be drawn, circumference of pipe, acreage to be irrigated, amount of horsepower needed, and more. It was an impressive layout.
Readers of this article might wonder how a transition can be made from irrigation power in the present day to a description of a World War II demolition raid, but there is a dam and water and a designer involved, so we’ll go for it. A recent Time magazine article made me aware of the life of a Norwegian commando Joachim Ronneberg who died recently at the age of 99. Unquestionably, he was a man who fits the mold of a true hero. History turned on the action he and his men took in World War II.
The Allies feared a Nazi development program might provide them with a weapon of enormous power for which they had no match - the atom bomb. An ingredient necessary to the manufacture of an atom bomb was a product called “heavy water.” Spies told the Allies that Nazis had begun to manufacture it at a dam site in occupied Norway. Because many Norwegian citizens had been conscripted to work there, the decision-makers did not want to endanger their lives by dropping bombs indiscriminately on the dam.
Ronneberg and a small group of commandos were trained in England to parachute into Norway in the dead of winter, plant explosives, and destroy the facility. A series of strong blizzards paralyzed their movement for several days but they finally reached the target on the night of February 27, 1943. Luck followed them because they found the cavernous area used as a factory and set their charges. A quick escape in the dark went unnoticed. As they ran they could hear the explosions destroying the facility. With their head start they eluded capture by the awakened garrison even while being hunted by 2,800 German soldiers. Skiing, they traveled over 200 miles through forests and across mountains to reach neutral Sweden and safety.
Ronneberg and his men went on to perform other exploits in the war effort and received medals and recognition for their service. In later years he lectured widely telling of their resistance to the Nazis, especially wanting young people to know about it. He is quoted as saying, “There is a lot of talk about never again, but this is impossible if we don’t remember what happened back then.”
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