Countrymen

by Bo Lidegaard

  Despite the skepticism of the Freedom Council, on May 5, 1945, Buhl was appointed prime minister of the liberation government, formed with the equal participation of former politicians and resistance fighters, and backed by the Allies.

  Arbejdermuseet

  International Interests

  On Wednesday, the Swedish minister to Copenhagen, Gustav Dardel, sent a telegram containing the main elements of Duckwitz’s warning to Stockholm. Shortly thereafter the minister personally summoned C. B. Henriques to the Swedish legation, partly to ensure that the warning had reached him, partly to announce that “Sweden is open. Many have already fled to Sweden. Sweden is open to them all.” Dardel offered to make a boat available for Henriques himself, but the leader of the Jewish community refused. He still had a lot to do, including spreading the message that Sweden would open its coast to the Danish Jews. Dardel hardly had a mass flight in mind, however, which was entirely outside the scope of current imagination. Yet the Swedish gesture was important because it encouraged the Jewish representatives to spread the word that anyone taking resolute action had a chance to escape the fate that was intended for them.

  In Stockholm the telegram presented the government with the dilemma of what Sweden could and should do. It was obvious that they should raise the issue in Berlin through a diplomatic démarche, and this had already been prepared. Besides the urgent protest, the planned démarche contained a proposal that Sweden would undertake to intern all Danish Jews—in Sweden. But as the relationship between Sweden and Germany had deteriorated rapidly over recent months, and Swedish words had lost weight in Berlin, the Swedish minister there, Arvid Richert, warned that a Swedish intervention would not lead to anything good, precisely because the Germans already perceived Swedish public opinion and press as being so hostile it hardly could get worse.

  Richert discussed the issue with his Danish colleague in Berlin, Otto Carl Mohr, who was slightly out of the loop in Danish-German relations, which were being handled mainly in Copenhagen directly by Werner Best and his Danish counterparts. Thus Mohr misunderstood the whole situation, and he saw the rumors of the pending action as part of the Nazi effort to force a new, pro-German government upon Denmark. To Mohr the lifting of martial law was the main concern, and he was afraid that a Swedish démarche in regard to the Jews would only serve to complicate matters and further irritate the Germans. Therefore Mohr supported Richert in his rejection of the démarche. The strong reservations on the part of the ministers in Berlin made an impression back in Stockholm, and the planned démarche was shelved for the time being.14

  Rumors of the impending raid against the Danish Jews also reached the United States. On the same day the permanent secretaries met in Copenhagen to discuss a possible Danish action, James Waterman Wise, on behalf of the World Jewish Congress in Washington, sought out the independent Danish envoy there, Henrik Kauffmann. They had first made contact to discuss how to help the Danish Jews as early as September 9. Kauffmann now told Wise that he had decided to provide financial support to all political refugees from Denmark who arrived in Sweden, and who did not have the means to get by. He also made it clear that he would readily consider all Danish Jews who fled to Sweden to be political refugees—and thus eligible for help. On the same day Henrik Kauffmann also informed the U.S. secretary of state that he would commit himself to cover all costs that any government incurred as part of their efforts to rescue Danish Jews and other victims of Nazi persecution.

  In a conversation with the Swedish minister in Washington, Kauffmann proposed that Sweden present a special offer to Berlin in regard to detention of the Danish Jews in Sweden—very much in line with the démarche the Swedish government already was about to undertake there. Kauffmann also stated that he was willing to bear all costs Sweden would incur if this plan was to unfold—an offer similar to a pledge made by the Norwegian government in exile to cover costs on behalf of Norwegians fleeing into Sweden, including Norwegian Jews.

  Kauffmann could make such financial guarantees because, with formal recognition by President Roosevelt, he had been provided with full power over frozen Danish government assets in the United States and thus was single-handedly able to dispose of significant resources. Kauffmann sought to use this leverage to demonstrate to the free world that, unlike the authorities in Copenhagen, cooperating with the occupying power, he was free and thus the true representative of “free Denmark.” Contrary to his colleagues in Copenhagen—and the Danish minister in London—Henrik Kauffmann fully realized that the war was permanently changing the American role. Henceforth the balance of power among the old nations of Europe would be impacted by a newly emerging player: the United States. No matter the outcome of the war and the arrangements in postwar Europe, the United States had come to stay. Therefore, in Kauffmann’s eyes, it was strongly in Denmark’s interest to balance its traditional ties with Berlin—and with London—with an equally strong transatlantic relationship. Here the perception of Denmark among the American public was of crucial importance. The fact that Denmark had not put up a proper fight against the German invasion on April 9, 1940, was no help in this regard. Nor was the seemingly smooth cooperation between the Danish government and German authorities in the occupied country. Kauffmann’s Greenland treaty with President Roosevelt in April 1941 had helped a lot, as had the fact that Danish sailors continued to man the Danish merchant fleet, volunteering to sail for the Allies. More than six thousand Danish seamen contributed to maintaining the vital transportation links in Allied convoys—and close to one thousand never returned. Now a determined effort to save the Danish Jews would be another important token that despite the ongoing policy of cooperation, Denmark was not on the side of Nazi Germany but very much aspired to become once again part of the free world.

  Things, however, did not work out the way Kauffmann planned. Neutral Sweden also had considerable political interests in helping the Danish Jews—and the Swedes rejected Kauffmann’s offer courteously but adamantly. Sweden needed all the goodwill its efforts for the Danish Jews could generate. In addition the Social Democratic government in Stockholm was concerned with cooperating directly with the leading Danish Social Democratic politicians. They shared with their Danish comrades a fundamental skepticism in regard to militant resistance groups, in particular those with Communist leanings. The advance of the Red Army was encouraging to the extent that it broke the neck of Nazi Germany. But it was frightening for the Nordic democracies to the extent that it could connect to Communists as part of an armed resistance within occupied Denmark and Norway. The Social Democrats together with other democratic political parties wanted to return to parliamentary democracy and not to a sort of Communist-backed “people’s democracy.” This implied that while the Swedish government was eager to help, Prime Minister Albin wanted to direct the help to the victims—or if possible to channel it through his party colleagues in occupied Denmark. The leading Social Democrats fundamentally suspected that a strong Communist armed resistance might not be on the side of restoring parliamentary democracy at the end of the war.15

  London felt roughly the same way, even if there the crucial alliance with the Soviet Union inspired more subtle tactics in regard to the armed resistance in Denmark. Undeniably, Communist groupings continued to play a crucial role in the armed resistance encouraged by London. At the same time even the Special Operations Executive, the British World War II body in charge of sabotage in occupied Europe, wanted “the old politicians” to dominate the endgame in Denmark in order to curb Communist infiltration in the occupied country.

  Bad Omens

  Permanent Secretary Einar Cohn had a nephew, a thirty-seven-year-old lawyer, Bernhard Cohn, who also kept a diary during the critical days from September 29 to October 5. A few hours before the department secretaries’ Wednesday meeting the nephew visited his uncle, to see if he had any updates about the swirling rumors: “But Einar was Einar. He didn’t know a damned thing.… He was going to a meeting in the afternoon and promised to call m
e around 4 p.m. Of course he didn’t call. I then turned to make a new call and was referred to a secretary, who informed me that he had greetings from Einar who said that he had nothing he could convey. So I was aware that it was for real.… I rushed home to find it in wild disarray.… 7:15 by car to the Mission Hotel in Colbjørnsensgade, where we went to bed very early.—I promised Ella that if something happened—the Germans would never get me alive. I do not think she understood what I meant. At night, the air-raid sirens, which didn’t add to the enjoyment.”16

  Poul Hannover also describes extensively in his diary for Wednesday, September 29, the many worries and the trial and error that filled the day, as he desperately tried to find a way to get to Sweden with his family. His diary also touches on a theme that was an inevitable part of the refugees’ concerns: money. It was clear that illegal transport to Sweden would cost money, and that there could be a need for a large amount of cash for the whole family to get out. How much was not known. But getting hold of cash was urgent.

  For the wealthy another consideration was how best to cope with companies, investments, and personal assets. How could one protect, in haste, the family’s valuables? How much should be cashed in, and how much was transferable? To whom? And who should be authorized as caretaker during an absence of unknown length? How could one fulfill obligations and personal commitments in order not to default on future demands? The future was suddenly completely unpredictable, and it was vital to ensure the necessary liquidity—without resorting to a fire sale of anything that was easily marketable. Poul Hannover articulates these concerns, which in turn reflect the fact that the refugees remained responsible citizens: “Again off to the office—I deposited money to pay my bills—even to pay my taxes—agreed to meet Erik Birger [a friend] again on Østerbrogade, where he came by car with his brother, sister, and his mother. Again an address—that maybe could be used—so I went to the place Ludvig’s contact had recommended. It was more than amazing. The lady I spoke with was afraid that all places were already taken on the first night—and the price, which had previously been 500 kroner per person, had risen today to 3,000 kroner. I thanked her but dared not accept. So I went home.”

  This first offer for the crossing, in total twelve thousand kroner for the four members of the family, was no small sum. The monthly salary of a skilled worker was approximately four hundred kroner, and nearly half of the Danish Jews had income levels corresponding to those of the working class. A new fishing boat cost between fifteen and thirty thousand kroner. The crossing was considered extremely risky, even for helpers, but a single trip could earn a new boat in hand, and still more.

  Poul Hannover continues: “When I came home, Inger had sent the silverware away. We had already brought some clothes to our friends—but only very little.… We packed up cigars and cigarettes, so they could be removed. We were having roast goose—I could barely eat anything—I had literally not slept for several nights, and the day had been horrible. Suddenly Gunnar came with his friend Erik Nyegaard—he had stayed with him the last nights. Since we had parted, Gunnar had called the agreed phone number in Gentofte every quarter hour … and had finally gotten through. He had rushed over there with Erik Nyegaard and was told that it was likely to be possible—we were to leave the next day for Nykøbing Falster on the express train.”

  It may seem surprising that the family decides to head for Falster, a southern island close to the German coast, and anything but the shortest route to Sweden. But this was, for the first time, a concrete possibility that seemed worth trusting. And what else could they do? The hours were passing, and they could not stay much longer. If there was a prospect of leaving by way of Nykøbing Falster, that was where they would go. They had to take the chance: “Erik went in to buy tickets—I went down and picked a bottle of our best wine—we had to have something to strengthen our spirits.… Erik came again. He had not been able to get us all tickets on the express, and had even been told that he should provide names and addresses to get the tickets. So he had taken tickets for the slow train. That suited me better—I thought we were less exposed. For safety’s sake, he had even bought return tickets—though he had taken an express ticket for himself.

  “We had been told that the trip cost 1,500 kroner per person. Gunnar had about this amount—I did not—During the day I had deposited no less than 27,000 kroner—with different people, so now there was not much left. I wrote Erik a check for 6,000 kroner—which fortunately was still available … and we agreed that he would cash it and come down and meet us in Nykøbing.”

  Apparently Poul Hanover had mobilized his available funds, which together amounted to just about 33,000 kroner. He had entrusted 27,000 to various contacts and business associates—probably to spread the risk. When he had to raise 6,000 kroner to pay for the crossing, he pulled out the last free capital he owned. Erik Nyegaard was mandated to collect this sum in Copenhagen the following day and follow the family to Nykøbing Falster. Gunnar Marcus had apparently already raised an equivalent sum in cash, so the two families together had at least 12,000 kroner. The question was whether it would be enough. Hannover continues his description of the day: “The Swedish professor—our old family doctor’s son, called to invite us to stay at his hospital, our friend Esther, who wanted to put her house outside Tisvilde at our disposal. Herbert Jerichow had also been to our house to offer advice. We gave the maids a last message, said good-bye to our faithful Pless [their maid], and went to stay with our friends.”

  Hannover’s son, Allan, also had an eventful day, but it began normally with his father’s and grandfather’s birthdays and a regular school day. When he came home from school he was told that they would have to travel that night, and that he should get ready. He gathered the necessary items and packed up his electric train and hid it away. He notes that his father did not come home for dinner, but that the guests stayed and ate with the family. Poul Hannover came home during the meal, as his son recounts, but he did not know what they should do. Allan learns about the plan to travel via Nykøbing Falster, and gives his account of how the family gathered their luggage and some belongings after dinner and carried them, by ladders in the garden, over to a neighbor who lived a few houses away in Søholm Park.

  Poul Hannover ends his diary from the long day: “We put the kids to bed—just sat and tried to collect our thoughts—it was not easy. Around half past nine an air-raid siren went off—I went with Ole [a neighbor]. He gave me a strong sleeping pill—I could use a little sleep. I fell asleep and slept for half an hour—the rest of the night I lay awake.”

  Politikens crime reporter Vilhelm Bergstrøm, who had been at the paper since 1928, was socially conservative, with a sharp eye for the common man’s condition and the vanity of rulers. He had tried his luck as a novelist in the 1920s, but his strength lay in reportage, and at the outbreak of war in 1939 he set out to keep a comprehensive diary documenting events big and small. The idea was, as he himself put it, “to preserve every day in a jar,” and his record from occupied Copenhagen includes more than four thousand pages supplemented by a gigantic amount of documentary material. The diaries reflect the time without any gloss, and also provide a unique insight into prevailing views—including prejudices about Jews thriving within parts of the Danish population.

  Following the German invasion on April 9, 1940, Danish telephone and telegraph connections with the outside world were cut. The Germans demanded that the Danish media not be allowed to publish or broadcast information that could harm German military interests. Censorship was also introduced to prevent anti-German propaganda. The Foreign Ministry established the necessary force to control the media, building on experiences from the 1930s when the government had systematically applied pressure to avoid “provocations” of Hitler’s Germany, which had become ever more sensitive to criticism and satire.

  Censorship could take several forms, from banning specific articles to injunctions against others. From time to time the Germans demanded that a specific journalis
t or editor be removed from his or her respective columns.

  Although censorship and self-censorship were widespread, in practice the press had a fair amount of room to maneuver. Editors quickly learned to send clear signals marking which articles were German plants, and to disseminate views and information in forms overlooked by the censor. Still, the legal press—unlike the underground one—assumed that the basic premise of the cooperation policy was preferable to direct Nazi rule.

  Mediemuseet, Odense

  Not far away Kis Marcus also heard the air-raid siren that evening:

  Gunnar finally came back. He had met the police officer Carl Holbøll with Poul and he had given them the address of a man who got people to Sweden from Nykøbing. Gunnar and Erik then went to the station and bought 8 return tickets to Nykøbing on the slow train for the next morning. There was only one ticket left for the fast train and you had to give your name. Erik took this ticket, as it had been agreed that he should come down to us with more money as we did not have enough for the boat. Gunnar several times called the number he had been given for the man with the boat. His name was Talleruphuus. Finally there was a connection, and he and Erik set off. At 6:30 p.m. we all ate, Johanne also had dinner with Elsa. Erik came back at 8, as he had other things to do.—Afterwards I put the kids to bed, and we sat for a while and talked with Erik’s neighbor, Mr. Busch-Petersen, who happened to be going hunting the next day with his brother on Falster. He was taking the same train as Erik and offered his help if it became necessary.—Then we went to bed.