Royal Norwegian Navy Band has been a significant supporter of the war sailors’ cause for many years. “War Sailor's Requiem” was commissioned for The Royal Norwegian Navy Band 's 200th anniversary in 2020. The anniversary coincides with the 75th anniversary of the truce in 1945.

I have composed the Libretto based on many different sources. Most of the text is the war sailor’s own words taken from letters, diaries, memoirs, or interviews. Naturally, I have had to shorten and adjust the texts to adapt for song.

I have also incorporated some poems and songs that have been significant in war sailor history. This includes an excerpt from Herman Wildenvey's poem written for the opening of the Memorial Hall in Stavern for the fallen sailors of World War I. Furthermore, I have included the hymn "Who knows how near my end is to me?" recommended for burials at sea by the Altar Book from 1945. Then I have included an adaptation of Nordahl Grieg's poem "It was home we Norwegian sailors were destined to," and finally the shanty "Rolling Home," which has German origins, probably from the 1870s.

Next, I have put it all together in the context of the traditional Catholic requiem. Music history has a rich requiem tradition. During the work, I realized that there is also a significant war requiem tradition that extends far beyond Benjamin Britten's iconic work. Excerpts from the requiem text are sung in both Latin and Norwegian. I hope that this will tie the work closely to the requiem tradition while also highlighting the striking similarities with the sailors' accounts. At times, they almost seamlessly blend into each other.

The development mostly follows that of the requiem, meaning that I let the sailors' stories reflect and actualize the requiem. This is not one continuous story from 1939 onwards, nor is it a single sailor's story.

The premiere was due to November 8th 2020 at the Norwegian Opera’s main stage. It was, however cancelled during the general rehearsal due to a covid outbreak. Finaly, the work was premiered in Oslo Concert Hall May 31th 2022 with great success.

Norwegian original libretto

I. INTROITUS: REST IN PEACE

Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine et lux perpetua luceat eis.

Light,
the whole convoy lay bathed in light.
Heavens and sea were transformed to fire.
They fight their final battle
and enter the final rest.
Shall also we die like they die?

Rest in peace each soldier of peace
in your sunken grave.
Silent you sank, the memory climbs
like sun from the sea.
As day ascends, so too
all the sea did take.

Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine et lux perpetua luceat eis.

II. KYRIE: HAND OF DEATH

It’s coming, the torpedo.

Kyrie eleison.

I feel the hold on my throat,
weariness in my knees.

Lord, show mercy unto us.

The boat throws violently.
The sea is vast.
In the lifeboat,
we row so the sweat gushes,
but the hands perish from the frost.
The snow lashes the face.

Christe eleison.
The face in the lifeboat.
Kyrie eleison.

Hand of Death,
mountain of waves
coming toward us,
reaching after us
the foamy crest gushing in front.

The face in the lifeboat

Tears are my bread day and night,
while they incessantly ask meg:
Where is your God?


III. GRADUALE: SHANTY

As day ascends, so too
all the sea did take.

Et lux perpetua luceat eis.

Light,
the whole convoy lay bathed in light.
Heavens and sea were transformed to fire.
Onboard on the burning ship
they fight their final battle.
Shall also we die like they die?

IV. DIES IRAE: WE CARRY ON

Dear Selma,
what do you feel?
Perhaps the same as me?
You feel it in your heart,
I feel it in my stomach,
as I have no heart at all.

I'm very dissapointed about myself,
never made up to be a hero.
Not a coward, I hope.
We carry on sailing.

Then, suddenly there was a heavy crash.
We carry on sailing.

Yes, suddenly there was a heavy crash.
We carry on sailing.
Another follows, yet another blast.
We carry on sailing.

But everything is quiet,
there is nothing to see.
We carry on sailing.

1. Day of wrath and doom impending,
Heaven and Earth in ashes ending,
David’s word with Sibyl’s blending.

2. Oh, what fear man’s bosom rendeth,
when from heaven the judge descendeth,
On whose sentence all dependeth.

It is a strain to go for days and nights,
We carry on sailing.
expecting to be blown up by a terrible blast. We carry on sailing.

Who knows if or when or where?
We carry on.
Will she float or will we go straight down?

The sea stands in flames around the boat,
the heat is gruesome.

Dies irae, dies illa,
solvet saeclum in favilla:
teste David cum Sibylla.

We carry on.

We rowed
with a wave of burning fuel after us.
The sea of flames engulfed the others.
The heat, the warmth!
Some remained on deck
and they knew.

We carry on sailing.
I confess I'm afraid to die.
We carry on.
I admire the others,
admire them.
So there it is again,
a door slammed, something fell on deck. Will you be killed or wounded?
Will you freeze to death?
Get into a lifeboat or cling to a raft?
Will it last long?
We carry on.

V. TUBA MIRUM I: ...AND CARRY ON...

Dies irae, dies illa,
solvet saeclum in favilla:

teste David cum Sibylla.

Tuba mirum spargens sonum
per sepulchra regionum,
coget omnes ante thronum.

We carry on.

VI. KJÆRE LUCY

Dearest Lucy!
Or was it Margaret?
No, Nadya it was.
She with the glittering black hair
and those small pert breasts
under her black dress.
Yes, it was her.
Yes, she knows what happened.
Something went wrong, Nadya!

I lay in the sea again.
Wanted to scream,
but all that came out was a sob.

There you were,
crouching and stroked my back.
I tried to laugh,
but I couldn’t.

You said you were my mother,
madre mia,
and we laughed about your pert breasts.
I think I was very drunk, Nadya!

In the morning you took me with you to church,
to church to light a candle,
for me!
So that the holy virgin should bring me safely
over the sea.

Dearest Nadya…
Or was it Miriam?

Dearest Lucy,
I have no heart at all!

VI. TUBA MIRUM II: WHO KNOWS HOW NEAR MY END MAY BE?

Forgive me,
Dearest Amy, forgive me.
I do not know
how we can go on.
I am surely finished
and so are the others.
Forgive me,
dearest Amy, forgive me.
I have done no wrong.

It came, Amy.
The blast,
and I thought that it was us
that they had hit,
but it was “Biarritz”.

Oh God, oh God,
it sank in half a minute.

Forgive us,
we have done no wrong.

Tuba mirum spargens sonum
per sepulchra regionum,
coget omnes ante thronum.

Wondrous sound the trumpet flingeth
Through earth’s sepulchres it ringeth
All before the throne it bringeth.

My heart beats violently.
I thought I was ready to die,
but to be burned alive would seem too cruel.

And then the depth charge blew.
The tremor should wake the dead.

Death is struck, and nature quaking:
All creation is awaking,
To its Judge an answer making.

Oh, look, a giant bomber lurks on the starboard!
Then it disappears.
Now it’s coming again
flying very low.

A life means nothing.
But I have an unending thirst to live.

Dearest Amy,
forgive me.
I am surely finished.

Oh, how they cried.
We have done no wrong.
I can still hear the cries.
How can we go on?

Who knows how near my end may be?
Time speeds away and death comes on;
How swiftly, ah! How suddenly,
may death be here and life be gone!
My God, for Jesus’ sake I pray
Thy Peace may bless my dying day.

A life means nothing.
But I have an unending thirst to live.
So absurd, so bitter
to leave
those at home forever, and friends out there,
to be with them no more.

I worked so hard to live.
Arms and legs in constant motion
for eleven days,
while luminous luxury steamers
sailed in to every torn fantasy.

The world that smiled when morn was come
May change for me ere close of eve;
So long as earth is still my home
In peril of my death I live.
My God, for Jesus’ sake I pray
Thy peace may bless my dying day.

VIII OFFERTORIUM: WHEN WE BRING FREEDOM HOME

Home, we were to come home
with freedom, home.

It was home we were to come
every time we headed out.
We came in from the sea
with presents for our loved ones
Now we shall bring
freedom home.

We offer sacrifices.
Receive them for those souls
whom today we remember.

Hostias et preces, tibi, Domine,
laudis offerimus.

It was home we were to come,
home with freedom.

Sacrifices, we offer sacrifices.

Sacrifices and prayers?
Strange.
None of my comrades
gave their life for the fatherland!
It was the bloody war
that took it.

They carried a burning desire
to save the only life they had.

Hostias et preces, tibi, Domine,
laudis offerimus.

Not even the slightest thing have they understood
of the fear of dying when you are only eighteen years.

Rex gloriae, rex potus.

King Alcohol,
glorious king.

Save all the souls
from the deep
and from the lion’s mouth.

Just because it’s war,
makes it no easier to die,
and you die only once.

IX. LIBERA ME: HAVE YOU SLEPT WELL?
Lux aeterna luceat eis, Domine.

Light,
bright spheres of light hang in the air
and light up the sea
with beautiful light red colors.
The night was glorious.

Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine
et lux perpetua luceat eis.

Loud shooting,
infernal noise.
Even so, the night
was glorious.

Let the eternal light shine for them.

Light,
a blueish light fills the room.
No one is to be found.
It is quiet.

Libera me.

Have you slept well, my boy?

In sleep come the tormenting dreams.
A blueish light, intense light fills the room.
No one is to be found.
Sunken in the floor, cases of glass,
hundreds of them.

Have you slept well, my boy?

Cases that are filled with liquid,
in them lie human bodies.
Fragmented bodies.
Rows of teeth grimace at me
from empty skulls.
Above me the dark.

Light,
the dazzling light comes from the cases.
Ceiling and the walls are dark, as if they do not exist.
Only the dazzling light from the glass cases and bodies.
I must wander on the edge and look down.

Have you slept well?

Requiem aeternam,
et lux perpetua luceat eis.

Rolling home, rolling home,
rolling home across the sea.
Rolling home to dear old Norway.
Rolling home, dear land to thee.

Do you sleep well, my boy?

Who can understand?
No one wants to understand.
I must manage alone.

Rolling home, rolling home,
rolling home across the sea.
Rolling home to dear old Norway.
Rolling home, rolling home!

Translated by Peter Edwards

Read Helge Iberg’s review from Ballade here

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