The Spy Who - The Spy Who Gave London its Christmas Tree | 1

Episode Date: December 19, 2024

Each Christmas, a giant tree lights up London’s Trafalgar Square. Behind the custom: 007 author Ian Fleming and a secret mission to Norway. This is the story of how wartime espionage gave Britain its most spectacular festive tradition.Have you got a spy story you’d like us to tell? Email your ideas to [e-mail] to The Spy Who on the Wondery App or wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen early and ad-free on Wondery+. Join Wondery+ in the Wondery App, Apple Podcasts or Spotify. Start your free trial by visiting https://wondery.com/links/the-spy-who/ now.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Wondery Plus subscribers can binge full seasons of The Spy Who early and ad-free on Apple Podcasts or the Wondery app. June 1940, the far north of Norway. In a remote wood cabin deep within a dense conifer forest, King Hawken VII listens as one of his ministers urges him to flee. Your Majesty, Hitler wants you captured dead or alive. You cannot remain in Norway. There's no hope of repelling the German invasion.

Please, leave with the British. The 67-year-old king's handlebar moustache twitches slightly. He's been on the run from the Nazis for almost two months, but the thought of leaving Norway horrifies him. You ask me to abandon our nation? The liberty and independence of the Norwegian people are my duty. To leave is to fail in that duty. No, Your Majesty. I beg you to leave so you can

continue the fight. How? How can I continue to fight if I abandon the country in its hour of need? Sir, from the safety of Britain, the people can still take comfort and strength from your radio broadcasts. Your words can keep hope alive. The king nods in understanding. He rises from his seat. Very well. May God bless Norway. A few hours later, the king stands on the deck of a British Royal Navy cruiser bound for Scotland. As the Norwegian mountains disappear over the horizon, he dabs the tears from his eyes. Two and a half years later,

November 1942. The North Sea, just east of the Shetland Islands. Torpedo operator Mons Klubben smiles as ocean spray and cold wind blasts his face. He's 23, fair-haired, and about to go behind enemy lines. Before the war, he was a fisherman. Now he's in the Norwegian Navy and one of 22 sailors, commandos and spies heading to Nazi-occupied Norway for a secret reconnaissance mission. To get there, they're using a new kind of British Royal Navy motor torpedo boat. The British call them the Spitfires

of the Sea. They're fast, narrow and armed to the teeth with a gun turret and torpedo launchers on each side. And they're designed for covert operations and hit-and-run attacks. The crew's mission is to slip through the maze of islands and inlets of southwest Norway undetected. Then, they must gather intelligence on how to sabotage a mine that's producing pyrite for making ammunition. Klubben leans out into the wind and cries out with glee. Norway, here we come! But then he spots the Scottish commandos further up the deck.

They report to a man called Ian Fleming in British Naval Intelligence, and their stony faces remind him this secret mission isn't a game. The war's not going well for the Allies. Most of Europe is in the grip of fascists. The Soviet Union's battling for its survival. Japan is rampaging across East Asia. Kluben fears this year will deliver another bleak Christmas, but he's determined to return from his mission to Norway

with something to cheer his exiled king. From Wondery, I'm Raza Jafri, and this is The Spy Who. Every year, Norway gives the British people a Christmas tree to display in London's Trafalgar Square. And in this special, festive episode, we reveal how a covert mission to Norway, a homesick king, and 007 creator Ian Fleming, conspired to instigate this long-standing tradition. What you're about to hear are dramatized reconstructions of events,

based on the information that's been made public. But remember, in the shadowy realm of The Spy, the full story is rarely clear. This is The Spy Who Gave London Its Christmas Tree. November 27th, 1942. Southwest Norway. Under the cover of darkness, the motor torpedo boat moves quietly towards a remote cove on the island of Bømle. On the deck, torpedo man Måns Glubben checks the surrounding hilltop to make sure no one's watching.

But the falling snow makes it hard to be sure. It's 15 hours since they left Shetland. Now, after navigating the Norwegian coast's labyrinth of inlets and rocky islands, they've found a suitable hiding place. At the helm, the cruise commander, Lieutenant Knut Bergerberg, signals for the engines to be cut. A few seconds later, the boat gently nudges against the white-gray rock of the shore. Kluben and the other crew members move swiftly.

They lash ropes, tie knots, and lower the anchor to moor the boat. Next, they carry provisions and equipment ashore. Two of the Scottish commandos on the boat grab flashlights and head inland. Their priority is to establish a lookout post on high ground, where they can watch for German patrols. As the commandos disappear into the murk of the nighttime snowstorm, Klüben helps pull a large sheet of tarpaulin over the boat to camouflage it from passing planes and boats. Tarpaulin in place, Klüben takes a moment to savor his return to home soil.

He looks down the inlet and towards the nearby island of Hisoya. Unlike the other islands here, Hisoya's covered with a forest of noble fir trees. And with its fresh dusting of snow, it looks magical in the moonlight. But Kluben's thoughts are interrupted by Lieutenant Bergerberg calling his name. Klüben, come here. Klüben hurries to where the lieutenant is hunched over a map with a man he knows only as Harry. No one's quite sure what his role in this mission is. Some of the sailors think he's a British spy.

Harry falls silent as soon as Klübin approaches and leaves the lieutenant to do the talking. Klübin, you know this area well, yes? Yes, lieutenant. I'm from Uragsvog, a few miles south of here, and I fished these waters before the war. Perfect. We need to reach this mine near Sagvog. This channel is the only route there, but given what you've seen of the German patrols, how likely do you think it is that we can reach it unseen? The channel's wide enough to be able to give other vessels a wide berth. There's also plenty of small islands and inlets we can use for cover, but this place is a problem. Klubben points to a small coastal village on the map. The village is called Rube Star Nesse, and it sits roughly halfway between their position and the mine. There's

an engine factory there, so lots of boats go there. An engine factory? I imagine the Germans will be making use of that. Maybe we should attack it on the way back. The following morning, two hours before dawn. In the torpedo boat, Lieutenant Bergerbach answers the buzzing phone. It's connected by a cable to the hilltop lookout post. Yes? There's a mail boat heading your way. The lieutenant hangs up.

There's no reason for a mail boat to come here. There are no settlements or houses near this inlet. Men, incoming boat. Be prepared. As the crew prepare to defend their position, the lieutenant hurries to the bow. Soon after, a mailboat comes into view. It's a small fishing boat with a cabin on the deck. On seeing the crew with their guns at the ready,

the mailboat skipper emerges from behind his steering wheel and puts his hands up. Don't shoot! Don't shoot! You're Norwegian Navy, yes? I can tell from your uniforms. I am Norwegian, too. What do you want? Nothing. I'm just a mailman. I saw your boat and thought you might be stuck or in need of help. The lieutenant signals for his men to lower their guns.

I see. Sorry for the unfriendly welcome. We have to be careful. Please, come aboard. The mailboat skipper spends the next 20 minutes sharing everything he knows about German patrols and defenses in the area. The lieutenant explains that they need to reach Sargvog undetected. That will be hard, especially if you want a close look.

Your boat will stand out. Not many fishing boats have torpedo chiefs. The lieutenant paces the deck, absorbing the bad news. Then he glances at the mail boat and notices it has a large icebox. And it's big enough to fit a couple of men inside. Are you carrying any fish in your icebox? Well, no. It's empty. Why? Would you be willing to transport two of my men to Sargvog?

They could dress as civilians and hide inside the icebox so as not to attract attention. The mailboat skipper nods. Yes. I will do that. I'd also like them to take a look at the engine workshop on Hubersternesse. Would that be possible as well? It's on my route, so... Yes, thank you.

But I must warn you that if the Germans catch you with my men, they might kill you. The mailboat skipper looks unmoved. I know this. I am the one still living here. I'm not afraid. A few minutes later, the mail boat heads out of the inlet with two commandos stowed in its icebox. It's a few hours later and on board the motor torpedo boat, Klurben and some of the other Norwegian crew members are shielding from the snowstorm outside. And their return to their homeland has made them all nostalgic for Christmases of old.

The crew's cook leans back in his chair. All I want for Christmas is to eat some lutefisk. It's not Christmas without lutefisk. Klubben nods along. He too misses traditional Norwegian Christmas dinners, with their lye-cured dried whitefish and potatoes washed down with aquavit. I miss having a tree. Christmas is so sad without a proper tree like those on

Hisoya. One of the sailors sits up. We should get one. What do you mean? We're not doing anything here, are we? Let's ask for permission to go to the island to get a tree and bring it back. It could go in the mess hall. It'd cheer everyone up. But we can't use an axe to chop it down. It'd be too noisy. If there were Germans there, they'd hear us using it. The cook stands up. I have a meat saw. We could use that. But we have to get two trees. Two trees? Why? One for the mess hall. Another for the king. The king keeps all of our spirits up. But who is keeping up his spirits?

Wouldn't a Christmas tree from Norwegian soil be the perfect way to thank him? Oh, that's great. Just then, Lieutenant Bergerberg steps onto the boat. Klubben stands. Lieutenant, we have a request. What is it? We wish to row over to the island of Hisoya to get two Christmas trees to take back with us. One for the mess hall on Shetland, and another as a gift to His Majesty, King Hawken. Do we have your permission, sir?

That is an excellent idea. You have my permission. Just make it quick and be careful. Keep an eye out for German patrols. Delighted, the crew gather their gear and the cooks meet Saw, ready to go get their Christmas trees. 45 minutes later, Klubben kneels in the deep snow. Sweat drips from his brow as he uses the chef's meat saw to cut through the bark and wood of a small fir tree.

Nearby, another Norwegian sailor readies a cigarette while keeping watch We still need a tree for the king That one's only fit for the mess I've not seen a better one yet Gloobin pauses and wipes the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his thick wool jumper The two men freeze as they hear a twig crack somewhere in the forest.

Klüben and the other sailor exchange glances. They're thinking the same thing. Germans. Klüben's colleague stashes his unlit cigarette behind his ear and reaches for his pistol. Sagvog, Norway.

Around the same time as the team are cutting down the Christmas tree. On a forested and snowy hilltop, the two commandos who went with the mailboat train their binoculars on the defenses at the pyrite mine. I'm glad to be out of that icebox. You're always that windy. Concentrate on the mission. I count 18 guards. Oh, actually it's 19. And an officer. Still, a surprise attack with enough force should do it, but we'll need to disable those cannons quick.

The decoy attack further along the coast at Lajovic should draw some of these guards away. That'll make it easier to deal with the cannons. You see anything else? No, I think that's all we need. Let's get back before anyone starts asking why the mailman's running late. The commandos grab their packs and head back down the hill towards the mail boat. They've got the intelligence the crew came for.

They just need to check on the engine factory in Lübbersternesse, and then they'll be returning to base. And all without the Germans even knowing they were ever there. Back at Böhmlo, torpedo man Mons Klöben marches ashore with a four-foot-tall Christmas tree slung over his shoulder. Behind him, the sailors who went with him to Hisoya drag their dinghy towards cover. As Klüben heads up shore, his commander, Lieutenant Bürgerberg, emerges from behind a nearby rock. Ah, Klüben. Any trouble?

No, sir. We thought we heard something in the forest, but it turned out to be nothing. Bürgerberg nods, then peers at the Christmas tree. I hope the other tree is better than this one. We can't present the king with such a sorry specimen. This is the only tree we have, sir, and it was the best we found. Well, it's not good enough. The commandos who went with the mail boat aren't back yet, so there's still time. Get back in that dinghy and find a tree fit for a king.

I'll take this one from here. With that, the lieutenant heaves the tree over his shoulder and marches towards the boat. Klubben sighs and heads over to where the other men are taking the dinghy. The lieutenant said our tree isn't good enough. We have to go back and find a better one. One of the sailors smirks. He sounds like my father every Christmas, always chasing the perfect tree.

Klubben's about to laugh when the sailor holds up a hand. Klüben and the others fall silent. Then they hear it. There's a motorboat approaching. The sailors grab the dinghy and quickly drag it out of sight. A few moments later, they see a German patrol boat buzz past. That was too close. Yes, let's hurry.

If we're going to get this tree, we need to reach the island before that patrol boat circles back around. Two hours later, Lieutenant Bergerberg raises his binoculars to his eyes and scans the shore of Hisoya. But there's still no sign of Kluben and the other men. He passes the binoculars to one of the icebox commandos. They've just returned from checking out the pyrite mine, and that means they should be heading back to Shetland soon. Still no sign of them. We need to consider the possibility they've been captured.

If they have, we can't wait around. We have the intelligence we came for. The mission comes first. I'm not abandoning them. Not yet, at least. I'm the one who sent them back. We can give them time. The commando hands back the binoculars. Fine. We also need to talk about Rubestan Esa. We scouted it out, like you asked. Klubben was right.

There is an engine factory there. It's guarded, but vulnerable. We could go in fast, torpedo it, and be gone. But if we're seen coming in, it'd be high risk. Understood. In that case, let's try and take it out. But we abort the mission at the first sign of trouble. Much as I'd like to see some action, getting the intelligence about the mine back to Shetland takes priority. Decision made, the lieutenant raises the binoculars once more.

Yet he sees nothing but snow, rocks and fir trees. But then he sees something strange. There's a tree with no snow on it, and it's moving towards the shore. A smile breaks on the lieutenant's face. Klubben and the others have found a tree fit for a king. It's a few hours later and the motor torpedo boat is on the move. The two small Christmas trees are stowed safely below deck. Now the crew are speeding towards the village of Rubestarnesse to take out its engine factory.

As the boat cuts through the water, Klüben's heart races. It's down to him to fire the torpedoes and make sure they hit the factory. But then, the sailor keeping watch, the German patrols, shouts. Enemy sighted! Cut engines! Lieutenant Burgerbarg raises his binoculars as the boat's engines stop. Klüben peers at the murky gray horizon. The ongoing snowstorm makes it hard to see, but there's a speck moving in the distance.

Everyone on board looks at the lieutenant, waiting for orders. After a moment, he lowers his binoculars. Restart engines and turn around. The attack is off. We return to Shetland now and at speed. Gunners, keep that patrol boat in your sights. If they give chase, I want them sunk fast. Klurben, ready the torpedoes. We may need them if they radio for support.

Yes, sir. The engines restart and the boat begins to turn around. Klüben hurries to load the torpedo tubes. As he does, he steals a quick glance toward the German patrol boat. It's changed course too, and it's headed their way. The Admiralty, London. In an office overlooking Trafalgar Square, Admiral Norman Denning leans forward and lets Ian Fleming light his cigarette. Then he leans back in his chair. Denning is the head of British Naval Intelligence,

and Fleming's boss. I have good news, Commander Fleming. Our reconnaissance operation in Norway the other week went almost without a hitch. Fleming arches an eyebrow. Almost? Apparently they had quite an adventure. They hoped to take out a boat engine factory before returning, give the Jerries a kick in the balls on the way out, so to speak. Apparently they had quite an adventure. They hoped to take out a boat engine factory before returning,

give the Jerrys a kick in the balls on the way out, so to speak. Unfortunately, a German patrol boat spotted them, so they had to hightail it out of the area. Thankfully, our new boats were too good for them, and they were able to make a quick getaway, with a little help from the murky weather. Glad to hear it. So they collected the intelligence we needed to sabotage the mine in Saargvog. Yes,

three of the Norwegians involved are on their way to London as we speak. We can get a full briefing then, but I believe they gathered all the information we need to go ahead with Operation Cartoon. Fleming smiles. Operation Cartoon is the mission to destroy the mine in Saargvog. The plan is to send a joint British-Norwegian force in the new year. But the news that some of those involved in the mission to Norway are coming to London has also caught his attention. Fleming's work is mainly to direct operations from afar, but he always thrills at the tales of bravery he hears

from those he sends into the field. So he's not going to miss hearing the stories from the men who've just carried out an operation behind enemy lines. You said some of the men are coming here? Yes, they're due to arrive tomorrow. Our agents, of course, plus the boat's second in command and a torpedo man called Mons. We should mark their success somehow.

Dinner at the Savoy seems appropriate. Yes, good idea, Fleming. A proper slap-up meal for a job well done. Well, I know the maitre d'. I'm sure I could get him to fix us something special. In fact, I have two brace of pheasants from hunting over the weekend. I'm sure the Savoy might make something special with them. Wonderful. I will, of course, join you. Also, you need to invite Eric Welsh, too. Welsh? He's Secret Intelligence Service. He heads up their new Norwegian branch.

He's very keen to learn what he can about the situation there. The more, the merrier. Leave the reservation to me. A couple of hours later, the Savoy Hotel, London. Ian Fleming slips into the kitchen, carrying a gunny sack. Inside, the hotel's chefs are busy getting ready for the dinner service. Fleming sees the maitre d' chatting with another hotel employee and makes his way past the chefs towards him.

Excuse me., awfully sorry. Major D notices Fleming heading towards him. Ah, Commander Fleming. Pleasure to see you as always, but I'm afraid this area is for staff only, I'm aware. But I need a reservation for tomorrow. Well, you could just book like anyone else. Yes, but I have a special request and a gift. A gift? Fleming opens his sack to reveal four pheasants. One's yours if you make good use of the others for our party of six. The maitre d' smiles.

Wartime rationing means meat is in short supply. In that case, consider your special reservation arranged. Late the following evening, Ian Fleming staggers out of the Savoy, closely followed by Norwegian torpedo man Måns Klubben. Admiral Denning, MI6 officer Eric Welsh, and two other Norwegian sailors follow just behind. They've spent the past few hours drinking fine wine and dining on pheasant. Now their heads are woozy and their bellies bloated. Fleming saunters up to the army jeep the Norwegians are using,

with his hands in his trouser pockets. He appears at the two Christmas trees in the back of the vehicle. I thought you said one of the trees was put in the mess wall in Shetland and the other one is going to the king, but they're both here. Klurben looks offended and points at the smallest of the tree. You think I would cut down a tree as sorry as that one? It's more shrub than tree. No, my first tree is in the mess hall. Believe it or not, another Norwegian boat on a completely separate mission had the exact same idea. And this was their so-called tree. Yeah, not even fit for a mess hall, let alone a king, exactly.

We're not sure what to do with it. It seems wrong just to turn it into firewood when it's come all the way from Norway. Fleming looks at the tree for a moment, and then down the street towards Trafalgar Square. I have an idea. A few minutes later, Flurben and Fleming and the other merry men are in Trafalgar Square. As they watch, Admiral Denning uses some rope to tie the tree to some railings.

See? I still know how to tie a bowline. Rope work done. The Admiral steps back and the six men stand and stare at the small Christmas tree. MI6 officer Eric Welsh sighs. Shame we have no fairy lights. Klurben nods and then has an idea. He rushes over to the jeep, rummages through a rucksack and pulls out two flares.

We don't have fairy lights, but we do have flares. Hoi! Hoi! Oh, thank you. The men cheer. But then, Klubben pulls something else out of the rucksack. A hip flask. And Aquavit.

Oh, perfect. Oh, yes! Fleming attaches the flares to the railings and lights them. As red and green light and smoke illuminate the Christmas tree and Trafalgar Square, the men gather in a semicircle. Klubben takes a swig of Aquabit

and raises it in a toast. Merry Christmas to all. He passes the flask to Welsh, who takes a heavy swig. One of the other Norwegian sailors looks aghast. No, no, no, this is Norwegian aquavit, not Swedish. It's for sipping. Fleming takes the flask, sniffs it, and then takes a sip. Not too bad, but Danish aquavit is superior. What? No, you are talking utter nonsense.

Fleming, stop winding up our guests. It's true. Danish is definitely superior. Philistine. Personally, I can't taste much difference. Now, Admiral, it is you who is talking nonsense. Not true. Definitely the Swedish. Norwegian Aquabit. And as the traditional Christmas argument fills the air,

passers-by stop and smile at the Norwegian tree, lit with flares and surrounded by the spies and sailors who've just planted the seeds of a new festive tradition. The next day, Berkshire, England. In his temporary residence, King Hawken VII is at his desk, working on his Christmas radio address to the people of Norway, when his butler enters the room. Your Majesty, there is a visitor for you,

an officer from the Norwegian Navy who has just returned from a mission to Norway. He is waiting in the hallway. The king stiffly rises from his chair, eager to hear news about home. But on entering the hallway, he's surprised to find not just a smiling sailor, but a beautiful Christmas tree. The sailor bows his head. Your Majesty, this tree is from Hisoya. We cut it down during our mission there a few days ago as a gift for you. It is a thank you from us, the people of Norway, to you for keeping the hope of a free Norway alive. Merry Christmas, Your Majesty The surprised king stares at the fine fur in front of him Fond memories of home and Christmases past surge forth Ignited by the woody citrus smell of the tree

And as he remembers those happier days He smiles and tears well in his eyes Thank you for this most heartwarming and thoughtful gift. And thank you and your men for their service and their bravery. And a very Merry Christmas to you as well. Goe Jul.

In January 1943, the British and Norwegians used the intelligence gathered during Kløben's mission to successfully sabotage the Pyrite mine near Saugvog, disrupting the Nazis' production of ammunition. In both 1943 and 1944, the Norwegian Navy sailors continued the tradition of returning from motor torpedo boat missions into occupied Norway with a Christmas tree for King Håkon. Norway was finally liberated on May 8th, 1945. King Håkon returned home on June 7th that year, after exactly five years in exile. In 1947, Norway began sending the UK a large Christmas tree to place in Trafalgar Square

every year, as a thank you to the British people for their support during World War II. And these days, it's lit with fairy lights instead of flares. The stump of the original Trafalgar Square Christmas tree that Klubben cut the top off has since regrown. It's now known as the Kongergranne, or the Royal Fir, and remains on the island of Hisoya to this day. In the next season of The Spy Who, we revisit the file of Eamon Dean, the spy who betrayed bin Laden. And we hear from the former al-Qaeda member himself to understand how he went from teen jihadist to British spy. can binge full seasons of The Spy Who early and ad-free on Apple Podcasts or the Wondery app. Have you got a spy story you'd like us to tell? Email your ideas to thespywho at wondery.com.

From Wondery, this is our Christmas special episode, The Spy Who Gave London Its Christmas Tree. A quick note about our dialogue. We can't know everything that was said or done behind closed doors, particularly far back in history. But our scenes are written using the best available sources. So even if a scene or conversation has been recreated for dramatic effect, it's still based on biographical research. The Spy Who is hosted by me, Raza Jafri. Our show is produced by Vespucci,

with writing and story editing by Yellow Ant for Wondery. For Yellow Ant, this episode was researched by Louise Byrne, with special thanks to Clara Ellefson, Maureen Ergland and Susan Scott. Our managing producer is Jay Priest. Thank you. supervisor is Scott Velasquez for Fris and Sink. Executive producers for Vespucci are Johnny Galvin and Daniel Turcan. Executive producer for Yellow Ant is Tristan Donovan. Our producer for Wondery is Theodora Louloudis and our managing producer is Rachel Sibley. Executive producers for Wondery are Estelle Doyle, Chris Bourne, Morgan Jones and Marshall Louis.