Gold Run: The Rescue of Norway’s Gold Bullion from the Nazis, 1940

by Pearson, Robert

  With their part of the operation completed Colbjørnsen and Haslund travelled to Washington to begin making arrangements for the storage of the gold. Meanwhile, other shipments followed: M/S Ida Bakke, M/S Bra Kar, M/S San Andres; British liners Duchess of York and the Duchess of Bedford and sister ships Western, Eastern and Northern Prince among others.

  London 10th June 1940

  Dear Sirs,

  Gold consignments for the Royal Norwegian Government

  We have instructed the Bank of England to forward to you in two or more consignments with British liners bullion to the amount of 2.5 million pound sterling, to be kept by you in safe custody for and on behalf of the Royal Norwegian Government.

  Confirming hereby our request to you, we beg to inform you that any two of the following four gentlemen shall be entitled to give orders for the disposal of the gold on behalf of the Royal Norwegian Government: M. Daniel Steen, Norwegian Consul General in Montreal, M Erik Colban, Norwegian Minister in London, M. Øivind Lorentzen, Norwegian Shipping Director in London and M. Ole Colbjørnsen, member of the Norwegian Storting and Special Representative of the Norwegian Ministry of Finance.

  Trusting you will carry out this commission and thanking you in advance, we remain,

  Yours faithfully,

  Erik Colban Øivind Lorentzen

  Norwegian Minister in London Norwegian Shipping Director

  Bank of Canada,

  Montreal.

  Due to facilities not being available in Montreal the gold was held in Ottawa. As the ships arrived in Canada and the boxes counted, Mr Marble of the Bank of Canada sent cables and telegrams confirming safe arrival to Bolton of the Bank of England.

  The final consignment took place on the July 18th when 30 boxes (box Nos. CO.159/188) were loaded onto the Cameronia. The operation was over: Norway’s gold was safe and more importantly for the exiled Norwegian Government in London it could now be seen as an equal partner in the fight against tyranny, a task that it competently met and often exceeded.

  For Haslund became the Social Welfare Officer for Norwegian sailors in America. But it was to be his leadership, resolve and utter persistence in transporting the gold that he would be most remembered for. Oscar Torp had chosen the best man possible.

  19

  The Issue of Gold

  The significance of gold reserves had not been lost on the British, who at that time were desperate for the purchasing of war material. America possessed many of the answers to Britain’s pressing needs, but in return the Americans wanted gold or dollars, despite President Roosevelt’s sympathies. As far as Britain was concerned it didn’t need to look too far for a willing partner and as early as July 1940 Norway was formally requested to present Britain with her complete gold reserves, estimated then at being some £13 million pounds sterling, although this figure was revised several times. Britain’s stance was understandable, but the Norwegians had their own reasons to decline to assist. The exiled government had to remain strong; it couldn’t be seen to be caving in to British demands to hand over state gold to purchase war material even if it would be in their joint interests to do so. For the Norwegians they had their people to consider – not just in Britain but also in occupied Norway and their status and position could have been placed in jeopardy if a nation’s gold was handed over to a foreign power, albeit a friendly one. During one meeting dated November 4th 1940, the Norwegian Foreign Minister replied to Britain’s Chancellor of the Exchequer and stated that:

  …the Norwegian Government were prepared to do for the common cause all that was within their power, but it was their political duty to keep their gold reserves intact as much as possible. Although feelings in Norway were strongly in favour of the King’s Government and hostile to Quisling, it would be a great mistake to under-estimate the possible effects of German propaganda. If the Government were now known to have handed over the gold, which was regarded as a national possession for which the Government were only trustees, great capital would be made of this in Norway and there was reason to fear that, even if the Allies were victorious, the effect on public opinion in Norway would be fatal to the prospect of a restoration of the present Government after the war.

  Norway though, did want to be seen as an equal partner in the fight against the Germans. It was a difficult dilemma which required tact and diplomacy if the Norwegians, and Britain for that matter, were not to lose face. In late September further meetings were held and it was put to Norway that they ‘pool their resources of gold and foreign currency’ with Britain’s.185 The idea was for Norway to put the whole of their resources of gold and currency, whether owned by the Government or privately, at the disposal of Britain. In return Britain would undertake to supply the exiled Government with military and other supplies as well as currency if required. The British knew there was little chance of the Norwegians agreeing to this, but the seemingly endless meetings wore on. It was even suggested at one point that ‘the Norges Bank be treated as “resident” and thus be subject to surrendering its foreign exchange’ … to Britain’s Exchange Control.186

  The Norwegian Government sensibly decided to withhold their gold holdings and the Norwegian Minister of Finance, Oscar Torp firmly resisted the persistent heavy overtures of His Majesty’s Treasury; the rebuff was taken by the British as rather unfriendly and for a time the relationship between the two countries was difficult. Britain was currently running down its own gold reserves in America and Canada as it sought to purchase war material and urgently needed to obtain more gold. Finally in March 1941 the British entered into an agreement with the Americans that became more commonly known as ‘Lend-Lease’ whereby material was obtained with the premise that it would be paid for after the war. The pressure was now off Norway. Such was the cost that Lend-Lease has only recently just reached its conclusion when the last payment to the Americans was made on 29th December 2006.

  Norway also had its merchant fleet and this brought in welcome revenue under the NOTRASHIP agreement. Britain looked enviously at the dollar receipts the Norwegians were earning and despite some educated guesswork the Norwegian Government were cautious in advising Britain about how much they were receiving. But it should be pointed out that Britain received a favourable rate for the use of the Norwegian ships, in fact below the accepted merchant hire rate. With the income from NOTRASHIP, Norway was more than able to pay its way throughout the remainder of the war, but there was a heavy price to pay and like the UK the loss of ships and merchant marine-men was high. Nearly 600 ships and approximately 4500 sailors were lost to the ravages of war. In Britain there were murmurs of discontent at the amount of money the Norwegians were receiving from their merchant fleet, but this was hard won currency, earned in often tragic circumstances. What was not so well known was that in return the Norwegians paid significant figures for their armed forces in the UK; for the bases they flew from and the ports they sailed from, all without complaint. Norway was more than just an ally she was also an equal partner and one that sought no favours and certainly no credit.

  On May 8th 1945 Norwegian and British troops landed in Norway bringing to an end hostilities in that country. On May 13th Crown Prince Olav and representatives of the Norwegian government returned to Norway followed by King Haakon on June 7th 1945 – exactly five years to the day after he left the country – returning to great scenes of jubilation throughout the country. But as the festivities gradually diminished so began the investigations into the role and participation of the various civilian administrations and armed forces that were involved throughout the war and as a result committees were formed to carry out those investigations. It wasn’t just the Norwegian authorities that were asking questions – so were the British when they realised that Norges Bank was moving back to Norway.187

  With the bank duly returned to Norway, a semblance of normality resumed once more as the country slowly began to rebuild itself. During the autumn of 1947 a committee was established and tasked by parliament to investigate the role of the
bank whilst in exile in the UK as well as under occupation in Norway. Some, including various officials in the UK saw Norges Bank’s role as trading with the enemy. But by 1948 the investigations were concluded that prior to the invasion the bank had prepared adequately, in fact probably better than most. Nicolai Rygg was a visionary and he had been absolutely correct in his actions. After the war, Rygg and his colleagues received recognition for their actions with the gold and for the manner in which they conducted the bank’s business whilst under occupation. For its part the bank had acted properly at all times and had actively sought to protect the monetary system that had been forced upon them. With complete sincerity and integrity the bank came through, paving the way for a peacetime economy.

  Author archive

  It was not until December 1st 1987 that the Norwegian Government finally brought home the remaining gold that had been residing in the Federal Reserve Bank since 1940. SAS, Norway’s principal airline was tasked with the job of transporting the remaining bullion back to Norway. The occasion was made even auspicious with the King of Norway, King Olav accompanying the bullion on the non-stop flight to Oslo landing at Fornebu airport (now closed). The following day a second flight arrived carrying bullion, but this time from Ottawa in Canada. After 47 years of being cared for abroad the gold of Norway was finally home.

  The obverse and reverse of King Oscar II – King of Norway and Sweden.

  On January 28th 2004 Norges Bank issued a press release confirming that the bank had sold its shares of gold reserves amounting to some 16 tons. Further sales of gold bars were planned, but added that seven gold bars would be withheld from sale along with a substantial amount of coins that were part of the gold transport. The bars and coins would become part of an exhibition.

  The sale of the gold brought about an income of 1½ billion Krone that was in turn given over to Norges Bank’s foreign exchange reserves. At the end of 2003 Norges Bank’s gold reserves totaled some 37 tons and were made up of 3½ tons of coins and 33½ tons of gold bars. The gold was eventually sold on the international gold market in London.

  APPENDIX

  Per Prag’s Diary

  During the research for this book an article in ‘Aftenposten’ concerning the gold transport was written by the journalist Hilde Harbo asking people to come forward with their stories on the gold transport. As a direct result, Mr Muus Falk whose father was a friend of Per Prag’s, via the Norwegian Resistance Museum, Oslo, has kindly donated the following story.

  When the Germans invaded in 1940, I was stationed in Molde on the west coast as regional secretary of the Conservative Party, and I was 29 years old. I took my car to drive southwards so I could report for duty, and arrived in Lillehammer, famous tourist resort, 120 miles north of Oslo. I got a room at the Victoria Hotel, and soon realised that it was full of diplomats, government officials and military big shots.

  In the evening I was approached by a senior civil servant, who asked whether I could drive a Frenchman to Ålesund on the west coast. I said I had already covered most of the way, and would do the job provided it would help the war effort. Shortly afterwards I was introduced to the French Ambassador, who gave me a pass signed by the Prime Minister, Johan Nygaardsvold. I told him I would have to go through the military roadblocks, and I did not think that the military would take kindly to a pass signed by a socialist prime minister.

  After midnight I woke up by a knock on my door, and it was the French Ambassador who handed me a new pass. I believe I must be the only person who has received an ambassador in long johns! The pass was signed by General Otto Ruge, Commander-in-Chief of the Norwegian Armed Forces. Then I realised my task was highly important.

  I met my French passenger, Monsieur Charles Gobinot, early in the morning. He was a pleasant man in his sixties. He had been wounded twice during the First World War. He brought a suitcase and two small bags, like those used by the doctors. I put his suitcase in the boot, but he sat himself in the rear seat with a black bag on either side.

  At Otta I was flagged down by 25 year old Asbjørn Flatøy, who had been stranded on his way to Trondheim. I gave him a lift, but realised at the next stop that Gobinot was uneasy about accepting a passenger who had not gone through security. As events turned out, it proved to be a stroke of luck to have Asbjørn with us.

  Having reached Rosten Bridge on top of the Gudbrandsdal Valley, we were stopped by three men, who told us that German parachutists had just landed north of us at Dovre. To my surprise, Charles Gobinot knew two of the men – Arne Sunde,188 later to become Norway’s first ambassador to the UN, and Benjamin Vogt, son of the Norwegian Minister in London.

  Arne Sunde asked me to return to Otta with a message for the telegraph manager, who would relay it to the War Council in Lillehammer. At Otta, I had just read the message on the phone, when I met Birger Ljunberg, the Minister of Defence. I told him about the German parachutists, and he asked me to return to Rosten Bridge and to tell Arne Sunde that Norwegian troops would be on their way shortly. When he heard that I was travelling with Charles Gobinot – and he obviously knew about our mission – he said it would be too dangerous for Gobinot to remain where he was. He promised to ask the telegraph manager to arrange for a safe place for us until the Germans were captured. So I took Gobinot and Asbjørn with me back to Otta, where we were directed to an old but comfortable farm in the Ottadal Valley.

  After a couple of days at the farm, the telegraph manager informed us that Norwegian forces would rush the Germans that evening, and we should be able to proceed the next morning. We motored up to Kirkestuen Hotel at Dovre, where we got rooms for the night. The small hotel was chocker-block full of 50 men from the local Red Cross ambulance, mostly sleeping on the floors.

  I woke up about 5 in the morning, when somebody called my name. I rushed to the window, and saw Trygve Lie outside. He shouted to me to open the door, and I registered that this was the second time I presented myself to a big shot dressed only in long johns.

  It transpired that the only guests left at the hotel were Gobinot, Asbjørn and myself. The 50-strong ambulance team had fled – along with the hotel’s staff. There had been some considerable shooting, but we had not heard it.

  Trygve Lie189 asked if I could make some coffee in the kitchen, and by that time we were joined by the Foreign Minister, Halvdan Koht,190 who proved to be a great friend of Gobinot. I invaded the empty kitchen, and made coffee – which was the best coffee I have tasted at five in the morning, as the Foreign Minister complimented me.

  The position between the Germans and the Norse was not quite clear that morning, and Trygve Lie asked me to take him northwards to a safe point. I did, and we returned to Dovre church, where Trygve Lie took up a stand at the porch. I remained in my car, when I heard shots, and I thought that Trygve Lie had been hit, but he shouted to me “start up the car”. I tried, but the car would not start, and Trygve Lie shouted, “switch on the ignition”! Which I did, and then he flung himself into my car and I accelerated beyond the reach of the Germans.

  On the way back to Kirkestuen Hotel, we were stopped by two men – and to my surprise they were Crown Prince Olav and Arne Sunde. I gave them a lift in my car and wondered whether anybody had ever given a lift to the Crown Prince of Norway. Further down the road we were halted by a number of cars, whose passengers were changing into snow-white deceptive clothing. I could see King Haakon among them.

  Charles Gobinot then had some serious meetings with members of the government and afterwards he told Asbjørn and I that he had decided to drive through the German lines – because “Germans don’t shoot civilians”! And this was in 1940!

  We set out in the morning, and passed the point where Norwegian troops had fired at the Germans, and the ground was littered with spent cartridges. I believe some Norwegians had been killed there.

  Further on, we saw the farmhouse where the Germans had sought refuge. Some of them came out, carrying machine guns at the ready. I was driving very slowly, and when I looked back
at the rear seat, I saw that Gobinot had opened both black bags and held a hand firmly inside both of them. Then we were stopped by a truck, which had blocked the road.

  ‘Get out of the car and move the truck’ said Gobinot. ‘But I have never driven a truck’, I said. ‘Do it now’, replied Gobinot. I clambered over the snowdrifts and approached the truck from its left-hand side. What I saw made me vomit. Blood was splattered everywhere and it was obvious that no amateur could move the truck. The Germans – about half a dozen of them – were now standing on the other side of the fence. I returned to my car, and without a word being said, I started to back out of there, until I found a spot where I could turn and start on the way back. Going downhill I stopped at a point where I knew the Germans could no longer see us, and I lit a cigarette. ‘Donnez moi un cigarette aussi’, said Gobinot and I handed him the pack with a match box, and I had the personal pleasure of seeing that his hands shivered just as much as mine.

  Back at the telegraph office in Otta, the manager told us that the government now wanted us to proceed across the mountain plateau on skis to Geiranger, and every effort would be made by his friends to speed up the journey. He certainly did fulfill his promise. Our feet were measured for ski boots, and we started the drive up the Ottadal Valley. At one spot we were flagged down by a young boy whose name was Per (I met him 12 years later), and he gave us boots and skis, which fitted admirably. We followed instructions and drove on to Pollfross where we were met by a young boy with a reindeer and sledge. This was where we put on our skis. Gobinot had never been skiing, but it only took a few strides on the snow before he got the idea. That Frenchmen had guts! Our luggage was loaded on to the sledge, but before Gobinot released his two black bags I had to get the boy to promise that he would never get out of eyesight of Gobinot.