The boy in the Pasvik Valley

In his mind , Ernst Sneve keeps an indelible image from childhood – the sight of a young man leaping from an airplane above his family's cabin in Pasvik Valley on the outskirts of Kirkenes. A German soldier stands below, aiming his pistol upward and unleashing a volley of shots. The young boy witnesses the scene with wide, attentive eyes. He’s not afraid, for he has no memories of a time when the only sound from the sky was from thunderbolts. Now, the young boy hears the adults speak of  «bomb weather» whenever the sky is clear.

Ernst’s elder sister, Aud, is noticeably absent. With an instinct sharpened by experience, she swiftly vanishes at the faintest whiff of danger. The parents begin searching deep into the nearby woods, fervently searching for their daughter. This recurring ritual unfolds with clockwork certainty. Eventually, they find her delicate figure huddled and trembling from fear.

"At one point, Aud sought refuge under the shelter of a rock, desperate to evade the relentless hail of gunfire. Being four years older than me, she understood the gravity of the situation. She was terribly frightened," Ernst recounts.

Behind his rectangular steel-framed glasses, Ernst Sneve's unwavering gaze exudes an air of seriousness, contrasting with the numerous smile lines around his clear eyes. Sitting upright in a plastic designer chair in the nearly empty lounge at Thon Hotel Kirkenes, we can't help but wonder if his lively energy may be linked to his role as a guide for tourists visiting Kirkenes. Over the past 15 years since his first retirement, he leads guided tours that include the exploration of the old bomb shelter called Andersgrotta, as well as journeys to the Russian border. This activity has brought him immense joy in his daily life.

"I have an unwavering passion for Northern Norway, especially Kirkenes. When I was offered a job as a guide at Kirkenes Snow Hotel many years ago, I saw it as an opportunity to promote both the municipality and my workplace," he shares.

However, the true appeal of the job lies in its unique nature. Ernst is one of the remaining few living witnesses to the events that unfolded in Kirkenes during World War II.

"I was just six years old when the war ended in 1945. Many of the memories that still linger were beyond my understanding at the time, but I later came to comprehend their significance. And I did understand my mother’s fear..."

Pasvikdalen, 1941: The axe rests on the husband's side of the bed. The woman, young, tall, and fair-haired, feels consumed by unease within the cabin's confines, accompanied only by her two young children, while Mr. Sneve labors under the German regime in Kirkenes.

Just 300 meters away lies the Russian prisoner camp – housing both incarcerated Russian soldiers and the German soldiers guarding them. Amidst this tangled web of uncertainty, Ernst´s mother also harbours a sense of pity for the prisoners, their relentless toil marked by meagre coverings upon their feet and the ceaseless growling of their empty stomachs.

Mrs. Sneve remains acutely aware that her small family has been granted a stroke of fortune amidst the tumult of war.

Still, memories of the early war months bring forth a shudder as she recalls the urgency with which she and her husband would seize their little ones, their youngest still in diapers, in their frantic flight from the confines of their cramped attic apartment in the town centre of Kirkenes. Seeking protection amidst the frigid depths of Andersgrotta, they would huddle alongside their fellow townsfolk, awaiting the cessation of distant bombardment, knowing all too well that the next wave of terror lurked on the horizon.

By now, their apartment in Kirkenes lies in ruins, just like most of the other city buildings. Those who have not sought refuge further south in the country find themselves crowded within the shelter of the Bjørnevatn Tunnel, which the mining company Sydvaranger A/S has transformed into a makeshift sanctuary, along with their pets, sheep, and cows.

Mrs. Sneve leaves the axe undisturbed where it lies and begins her daily tasks. After a while, she calls out to the two children playing near the cabin. "Here", she says, handing them a tray filled with homemade fish cakes. "Take this to the Russian prisoners".

The siblings dutifully follow her instructions, carrying the tray between them as they make their way down to the huts where the young Russian soldiers reside. As the hungry prisoners help themselves to the precious proteins, a German soldier approaches the children with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. The children firmly shake their heads, refusing his silent plea.

“Many of the Germans were kind to us, they were there simply because they had no choice, but we had somehow been brainwashed to think the worst of them. Moreover, we were overwhelmed by the weight of our relentless surroundings" Ernst recounts.

The propaganda that circulated about the Russians was no better.

"They weren't even considered people, but rather animals and rapists who even ate humans. Yet, mother had more compassion for them".

Father has returned! After yet another week of arduous work, loading and unloading German boats in the town, Mr. Sneve is back with his family in the Pasvik Valley. There is a waft of pipe smoke about him, Ernst notices, a comforting and familiar scent. And it is always exciting to discover what he brings with him! Once, he arrived home with a suitcase full of butter, a treasure to savour. Another time, he carried a sack brimming with coffee, which he carefully concealed in the canopy of a nearby pine tree. Mr. Sneve has become adept at pilfering from the bombed German supply boats, grounded to clear the way for other vessels. These covert operations unfold under the cloak of night, risking life itself. Theft is punishable by death, and the same grim fate awaits those who aid prisoners. And yet...

Before the war, Sydvaranger, a coal mining company, was the lifeblood of Kirkenes, providing employment for the majority of the town's population. However, the merciless impact of the two German air attacks in July 1940 proved to be devastating. The city's power plant was reduced to rubble, cutting off their vital energy supply, as well as to the second-largest sawmill and storage facility in Northern Europe.

Following the devastating air attacks, a force of 75,000 German and Austrian soldiers descended upon the municipality. Their mission was twofold: to fortify "Festung Kirkenes" into an impenetrable coastal stronghold and to protect the vast stockpiles of war materials scattered throughout the municipality and the bustling harbour, which served as a vital channel for shipping iron ore to Germany. However, their presence went beyond mere occupation. Hitler's primary objective involved disrupting the convoy transportation of war supplies from Britain and the United States to the strategically significant port of Murmansk in Russia. The Kirkenes airport, functioning as a pivotal base for the relentless aerial bombardments, served Hitler's audacious vision in his grand campaign, known as "Operation Barbarossa," which unleashed a relentless assault on the Soviet Union on June 22, 1941. The Russian forces swiftly retaliated with unwavering determination, igniting the skies above Kirkenes in frequent and intense bombing raids.

In the winter of 1941/42, the troops in Kirkenes swelled in numbers, both on the German and Russian sides. Amidst the chaos, the innocent local population stood paralyzed by fear and the scarcity of resources. Those who could work had no choice but to labour for the Germans, striving to sustain their own lives and the lives of their families.

Ernest Sneve pauses. Then he asks an intriguing question:

“Have you heard about ‘Skoleveien’ (The School Street) here in Kirkenes? It was built by 641 Norwegian teachers who were sent here to work camps because they refused to comply with the German school system".

The refusal to teach had dire consequences, as the hardworking prisoners had very limited access to food and winter clothing, putting their lives at risk.

"Yet, even amidst the peril faced by the population and the scarcity they endured, the teachers received unwavering support from the residents of Kirkenes, ensuring that no lives were lost despite the frigid embrace of winter or the grip of starvation. As a gesture of profound gratitude for this invaluable aid, Norwegian teachers orchestrated a nationwide fundraising campaign, resulting in our cherished first library in Kirkenes”.

Ernest Snave's countenance gleams with a smile, his eyes now glistening with tears.

"I am prone to being moved, akin to the tender resonance of lingonberries," he jests.

The year is 1944, a time when the war hangs on a precipice. The entire municipality teems with German soldiers. They march ceaselessly, their boots tracing familiar paths towards the eastern frontline.  For the small family residing in Pasvik Valley, this spectacle has become an almost mundane occurrence, barely stirring a reaction from young Ernst. Yet, on one fateful day, the rhythmic cadence of the march is disrupted by a sudden halt. A young German soldier, burdened by exhaustion, collapses to the ground, his pleas of weariness mingling with tearful sobs. Drawing near, an officer, his authority radiating in the air, confronts the soldier who appears scarcely older than a mere boy. With a stern voice, he issues a menacing ultimatum: obey the command or face instantaneous execution. In anguished despair, the soldier weakly replies, "But I can't go on any longer. I give up." The officer pulls the trigger.

Autumn 1944 has settled upon Pasvik Valley, and on the veranda of their small cabin, young Ernst, soon to turn six, stands alongside his father, captivated by the mesmerizing display of explosive fire on the distant horizon. A few days later, at nightfall, German military vehicles arrive, invading their courtyard. An officer barks orders, demanding the family's immediate departure from their cabin. "But we have young children..." protests Mr. Sneve. After much pleading and persuasion, he manages to secure permission to stay for one last night. Hastily, the parents gather a handful of belongings, snatching fragments of their life before being herded into the confinements of the kitchen. Meanwhile, soldiers labour to conceal the cabin into the surrounding forest, its very presence vanishing from view. The family’s humble dwelling is transformed into a covert communication hub for the German army.

The following morning, the parents, accompanied by their two children and their loyal companion, Bamse the dog, are expelled from their home. They set course in their rowboat, heading towards a small islet where they carefully hide their meagre possessions. It is there that their eyes catch sight of a Russian fighter plane. Flying at a remarkably low altitude, the pilot's face becomes visible, and a fleeting moment of connection is shared as he waves from the cockpit. Then, in the blink of an eye, the pilot redirects his attention towards the German trucks stationed near the cabin, unleashing a thunderous cacophony of machine gun fire upon the vehicles.

As the family moves further away from Pasvik Valley, they encounter fellow civilians on foot, making their way towards the Bjørnevatn Tunnel.

"Our progress was limited on the first day, so we sought refuge in the mining tunnel at Kjellmannsåsen, about halfway from our destination, for the night," Ernst recounts.  

When they wake up, they realise that Bamse the dog is missing. The grief of losing their cherished pet weighs heavily on the children, surpassing even the sorrow of being uprooted from their Pasvik Valley home.

On their way to the tunnel, the group of refugees pass by many buildings engulfed in flames. The Germans have begun their retreat, following Hitler's explicit command: "Leave nothing behind!" Only the liquor warehouses remain untouched, in the hope of tempting the enemy to indulge and slowing down the Russian advance.

At a certain point, the refugees come to a standstill. Barracks on both sides of the road are ablaze. Is it safe to traverse through the inferno? "No, the flames are too fierce," someone remarks, and they decide to take a detour through the woods on the opposite side of the row of buildings.

“As we made our way through, one of the barracks collapsed. If we had been on the road, we most likely would not have survived," says Ernst.

The Bjørnevatn Tunnel is eerie, Ernst thinks, with its dim lighting and crisscrossing strings everywhere, holding woollen blankets serving as makeshift dividers among the countless neighbours. One section has been transformed into an improvised hospital and maternity ward. Even the animals have their own designated area, allowing a few drops of cow’s milk to be shared with the youngest children. The sanitation facilities are almost non-existent, yet miraculously, not a single serious epidemic has erupted.

Mr. and Mrs. Sneve are assigned a "string square", consisting of three bunk beds stacked one above the other. With only three sleeping spaces available, the family of four must make do with what they have.

On the 25th of October 1944, darkness descends upon the mining tunnel. A wave of panic sweeps through, fuelled by rumours that the Germans intend to destroy the entire tunnel, along with its inhabitants, before their retreat. Is this dreadful fate about to unfold? Thankfully, the lights swiftly return, casting a feeble glow from the yellow bulbs. It is then that Ernst catches sight of two young Russian soldiers marching into the tunnel.

A strange stillness settles among the refugees — until suddenly everyone understands. The Germans are gone. There is an eruption of joyous celebration. Laughter, tears, and eventually song fill the air. The melodies of the national anthem, "Ja, vi elsker” (“Yes, We Love") and “Kongens sang” (The King’s Song”) reverberate against the cold stone walls as thousands of weary souls embark on a long-awaited journey out of the tunnel, and into the fresh air.

"But as we emerged outside, a heart-breaking scene awaited us," Ernst recalls. "Everything lay in ruins."

In that moment, gallows humour, which had carried them through the war, resurfaces as an elderly man quippes, "In truth, we haven't lost much, for we had next to nothing before the war as well".

It will take another 20 days before the German soldiers are completely driven out of the region, and eight months before the rest of Europe sees an end to the war. However, in the tunnel of Bjornevatn, a glimmer of justice has finally prevailed.

During the first afternoon of their newfound freedom, the family is given a car ride back to their cabin in Pasvik Valley. With anticipation and relief, they approach the cabin and find it untouched. The driver parks a short distance away, and Mr. Sneve steps out, instructing his family to wait momentarily.

As he makes his way towards the cabin, he is halted by a Russian officer. Perplexed, he wonders about the reason for the interruption.

"You should know that on the property, there was a small shed we had never entered due to its secured door with iron fittings," Ernst explains.

Curiously, the Russian soldiers have forcibly entered the shed, discovering stacks of "Solkorset," a Nazi newspaper subscribed to by some Norwegians tracking events in Germany. Mr. Sneve explains to the Russian officer that the newspapers belong to the owner of the cabin. "We have never set foot in that shed. Had we done so, we would have unlocked it. As you could see, there were iron fittings and a padlock". Thankfully, his words are accepted.

"How they managed to communicate, I don't know. Perhaps there was an interpreter present? Nonetheless, my father said to the soldier, 'Before the children step out of the car, could you kindly remove the bodies scattered on the road?' You see, there were corpses strewn about, belonging to both German and Russian soldiers”, says Ernst.

Instead of leaving Mrs. Sneve and the two children in the car, the Russian officer escorts them to a nearby tent. There, they are provided with nourishment, and Ernst is given the opportunity to enjoy his first-ever film experience. "Can you imagine, I had never seen a film before, and there I drifted off to sleep".

Ernst Sneve has much more to say about how people gradually rebuilt their lives after the war. For many, the Bjørnevatn Tunnel became a prolonged refuge as they had no homes to return to. Others made homes in destroyed buildings lacking windows and roofs or sought shelter beneath the curved hulls of boats.

Upon liberation, Ernst´s father voluntarily enlisted in the Norwegian forces and took up the duty of guarding German prisoners of war in the west of the Finnmark county. It was there that he crossed paths with a farmer who generously provided him with timber free of charge. With this precious resource, Mr. Sneve built an improvised dwelling adjacent to Kirkenes' largest remaining standing staircase, which was formerly part of a building that had housed German soldiers but now lay in ruins. The windows were veiled by canvas. Remarkably, that petite abode still stands today.

Life moved forward. Ernst Sneve pursued his studies, met a delightful young woman, found employment, married, and welcomed two sons and a daughter into his life. Additionally, he maintained a steadfast political involvement while managing a driving school and a bustling grocery store with many employees. As retirement approached, he offered his expertise to the security company, Securitas, at Kirkenes Airport. Then, at the age of 67, he once again changed his uniform, embarking on a new venture with SAS Airlines, serving the same airport that had become a familiar backdrop.

"It was during my tenure there that Kirkenes Snow Hotel reached out, offering me an opportunity to work as a guide," Ernst recalls. "At first, I had a bit of hesitation, but as positive feedback poured in, the role transformed into a source of delight. I find immense joy in engaging with people and relishing the chance to impart my wisdom about Kirkenes and the war that unfolded in these northern lands”.

Ernst Sneve's wartime stories are educating whole new generations about a world war that ended nearly eighty years ago. After getting a taste of his experiences, it is obvious that he is not only helping to preserve our history but also serving as a shining example of a truly productive retirement.

Tip: Join the "Russian Border" excursion to meet Ernst Sneve and learn about his personal experiences and the impact of the war between Germany and Russia on the northernmost front of World War II.