Northern Pursuit

Synopsis: Canadian Mountie Steve Wagner captures a German Luftwaffe officer on a spy mission, who later escapes from the prison camp. To catch the spy ring, the Mounties employ a ruse so that the spies, believing Steve to be sympathetic, enlist him in their plans.
Director(s): Raoul Walsh
Production: Warner Bros.
 
IMDB:
6.6
APPROVED
Year:
1943
93 min
38 Views


In the year 1497,

John Cabot reached the shores of Canada.

John Cabot was an Englishman.

In the year 1534,

Jacques Cartier reached the same shores.

Jacques Cartier was a Frenchman.

Since that time, many men of many nations

have come to these shores.

They all found the same thing:

A vast country,

a beautiful country, a rich country.

But what was more important,

they found a way of life...

...in which these people

could live side by side as free men.

In the year 1941, the year of this story...

...other men

came to the shores of Canada.

Thanks.

- Nationality?

- American.

- What's your reason for entering Canada?

- I'm a tourist.

Cold country, Canada.

You think this is cold?

You ought to go up north where I'm going.

Cold country, Canada.

You think this is cold?

You ought to go up north

where I'm going.

How far is it to the place?

A week's travel

if we don't run into a storm.

A week?

Uniform?

Uniform means internment only.

If anything goes wrong.

Otherwise, we would be shot as spies.

What about those Indians?

They handle the dogs, break trail.

We couldn't make it without them.

What about him?

- He drives the other sled.

Well, I'm ready. Let's go.

What are they saying?

They say Deer Mountain Pass no good.

No trail this time of year.

They will not go.

Then we'll get rid of them.

Avalanche!

Whoa!

Look at this, he's traveling alone.

He must be all in,

staggering all over the place.

- He fell to his knees there.

- Uh-huh.

Well, whoever he is,

he's no north woodsman.

Mush, Yukon. Mush.

Whoa.

Mush, Yukon.

Mush.

I'll say he's no north woodsman.

That's a German uniform.

- Those wings?

- Yeah, he's a flyer.

An officer.

A German officer

up here in the North Country.

I don't get it.

Neither do I.

- Who are you?

- We're police.

Royal Canadian Mounted Police.

Police.

I demand to be taken

to the military authorities.

There's a few questions

we wanna ask you first.

I'm sorry, I'm not obliged to answer you.

You found me in uniform,

and under international...

What's your name?

Colonel Hugo von Keller,

German Luftwaffe.

I'm not impressed.

You wanna question him, Steve?

Go ahead.

How did you get here?

Did you fly?

Listen, you. When I talk, answer.

Even if it's only yes or no.

Jim, take it easy.

He's in no condition to talk.

- He looks all right to me.

- Well, he's not.

Just because he's an enemy soldier

doesn't mean he's not human.

Thank you.

You speak German?

Isn't it rather unusual for

a Canadian policeman to speak German?

A lot of people in Canada

are German descent.

Yeah, just so you don't get

any wrong ideas in your head...

...they hate your kind of German so hard...

- Jim.

He's a prisoner of war.

This cabin...

...is it very far from a town?

- Speak in German if it's easier.

No, no, thank you.

I just as well speak your tongue.

Well, from here it's about three days' travel

to the nearest town.

Oh.

That's a long trip.

I'm rather exhausted.

Getting cold in here.

I think we'll light a fire.

Why don't you go get some wood?

What's the matter, you in a trance?

Go get some wood.

Bring that brandy in too, will you?

Off the pack.

All right.

So you're of German descent?

That's right.

Both my parents were born in Germany.

- Are they still over there?

- No.

Dead a long time.

Well, how do you feel about it?

- What?

- The war.

I mean, this country

being at war with Germany.

- I'm a Canadian.

- Yes, but of German descent.

Well, I don't think

I've given the matter much thought.

That's hard to believe.

You look like an intelligent man.

Tell me, when you heard about

our glorious victories...

...in Poland, in the Netherlands,

in France...

...how did you feel about that?

My partner's coming back.

- Get the brandy?

Yeah.

I suppose you will be

taking me to headquarters immediately.

That's right.

If I could stay here and rest for a while,

perhaps a few days?

No, we've gotta take you in.

I give you my word as a German officer.

Looks like a storm coming out.

You know, he's in bad shape

to make a trip over a rough trail.

Yeah.

You're sticking your neck out

by not bringing that Jerry in.

That's your job.

Square it for me with the inspector.

- Well, I'll do my best.

- Good enough for me, pal.

- On your way.

- You watch out for that guy.

Jim.

Jim.

- Jim.

- Oh, hello, Laura.

- Why are you alone? Where's Steve?

- He'll be along.

- What do you mean? When?

- Couple of days.

- Couple of days?

- Yeah.

See you later, Laura.

I'm in a hurry, gotta report to the post.

- What are you keeping from me?

- Nothing.

- Jim.

- Oh, now, don't start that.

I'll start screaming

in the middle of the street.

You win, you win.

You, uh...

- You swear you won't tell a soul?

- Don't you trust me?

I'd feel a lot better if you swore.

All right, I swear.

Well, I...

I think Steve and I

are in line for promotion.

We captured a German flyer.

A German flyer?

- Well, so long, Jim.

- So long, Laura.

Mush.

Mush.

Mush.

You have something to tell me?

Well, I'm not gonna ask you what it is.

I'm not interested.

It's probably another one

of your tall stories.

I didn't ask

when you ran out of here like a blizzard.

And I'm not gonna ask you now,

so you can stop your whistling.

I'm your father.

And a daughter has no right

to keep things from her father.

Now I'm mad.

Out with it.

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Frank Gruber

Frank Gruber (born February 2, 1904, Elmer, Minnesota, died December 9, 1969, Santa Monica, California) was an American writer. He was an author of stories for pulp fiction magazines. He also wrote dozens of novels, mostly Westerns and detective stories. Gruber wrote many scripts for Hollywood movies and television shows, and was the creator of three TV series. He sometimes wrote under the pen names Stephen Acre, Charles K. Boston and John K. Vedder. Gruber said that as a 9-year-old newsboy, he read his first book, "Luke Walton, the Chicago Newsboy" by Horatio Alger. During the next seven years he read a hundred more Alger books and said they influenced him professionally more than anything else in his life. They told how poor boys became rich, but what they instilled in Gruber was an ambition at age nine or 10, to be an author. He had written his first book before age 11, using a pencil on wrapping paper. Age 13 or 14, his ambition died for a while but several years later it rose again and he started submitting stories to various magazines, like Smart Set and Atlantic Monthly. Getting rejected, he lowered his sights to The Saturday Evening Post and Colliers, with no more success. The pulps were getting noticed and Gruber tried those but with no success. As a story came back with a rejection slip, he would post it off again to someone else, so he could have as many as forty stories going back and forth at different times, costing him about a third of his earnings in postage. Erle Stanley Gardner called him the fighter who licked his weight in rejection slips. February 1927, he finally sold a story. It was bought by The United Brethren Publishing House of Dayton. It was called "The Two Dollar Raise" and he got a cheque through for three dollars and fifty cents. Answering an ad in the Chicago Tribune, he got a job editing a small farm paper. In September he got a better paid job in Iowa and soon found himself editing five farm papers. He had lots of money and even wrote some articles for the papers but found he had no time to write the stories he wanted to write. In 1932 the Depression hit, and he lost his job. 1932 to 1934 were his bad years. He wrote and wrote, many stories typed out on an old "Remington" but of the Sunday School stories, the spicy sex stories, the detective stories, the sports stories, the love stories, very few sold, with some companies paying him as little as a quarter of a cent per word. He had a few successes and remained in Mt. Morris, Illinois for 14 months before deciding to head to New York on July 1, 1934. There were numerous publishing houses in New York and he could save money on postage but this led to him walking miles to deliver manuscripts as he had so little money, not even enough for food most of the time. He stayed in a room in the Forty Fourth Street Hotel ($10.50 per week). In his book, The Pulp Jungle (1967), Gruber details the struggles (for a long time, at least once a day he had tomato soup, which was free hot water in a bowl, with free crackers crumbled in and half a bottle of tomato sauce added) he had for a few years and numerous fellow authors he became friendly with, many of whom were famous or later became famous. Early December 1934 and with endless rejection slips, he got a phone call from Rogers Terrill. Could he do a 5,500 word filler story for Operator #5 pulp magazine by next day? He did and got paid. Even better, they wanted another one next month, and another. He was then asked to do a filler for Ace Sports pulp, which sold. Gruber's income from writing in 1934 was under $400. In 1935, his stories were suddenly wanted and he earned $10,000 that year. His wife came to live with him (she had been living with relatives) and he lived the good life, moving into a big apartment and buying a Buick ($750). January 1942, Gruber decided to try Hollywood, having heard about the huge sums some stories sold for and stayed there till 1946. Gruber—who stated that only seven types of Westerns existed—wrote more than 300 stories for over 40 pulp magazines, as well as more than sixty novels, which had sold more than ninety million copies in 24 countries, sixty five screenplays, and a hundred television scripts. Twenty five of his books have sold to motion pictures, and he created three TV series: Tales of Wells Fargo, The Texan and Shotgun Slade. His first novel, The Peace Marshall, which was rejected by every agent in New York at the time, became a film called "The Kansan", starting Richard Dix. The book has been reprinted many times with total sales of over one million copies. He bragged that he could write a complete mystery novel in 16 days and then use the other 14 days of the month to knock out a historical serial for a magazine. His mystery novels included The French Key (for which he sold the motion picture rights for $14,000 in 1945) and The Laughing Fox. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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