by Bo Lidegaard
If Best believed this reasoning would play well with the general public, he was utterly wrong. Most parts of the population, already deeply traumatized by the events of the night, felt that the statement added mockery to injustice, and even if the wish to have the detained soldiers freed was indeed widespread, linking their release to the arrest of innocent citizens was met with anger.
This reaction was not surprising given the mood of the general public in the lead-up to the action. What is more surprising is the fact that no enthusiasm can be traced to any of the leading representatives of the German occupation authorities. Everybody seems to have been busy disclaiming responsibility for the consequences, while trying to protect themselves against criticism of the night’s meager catch. An example is Major General Erik von Heimburg, who was commander of the German Order Police in Denmark, and who summarized the situation that Saturday in a secret report to Berlin: “The consequences of the action against the Jews could be decisive for the entire situation in the country. Generally, there is fear of an increase in anti-German sentiment, which is already strongly influenced by the enemy radio propaganda, which still can be received everywhere here with impunity.”4
It was still quite unclear to most Danes how many Jews had been interned during the night. But all had their own experiences, and rumors swirled, as revealed by Bergstrøm’s notes from arrests in the apartment house where he lived with his wife and young daughter: “Last night at 10:30 p.m., the caretaker heard the tramp of ironclad boots in the yard, and he thought that it was the housekeeper, who had put the Germans onto him. His wife had been very nervous. But it was not the caretaker the Germans were after, but some Jews who live in this building.… However, they had left several days ago.… I went up and told Elsa the news. She was deeply disturbed.… She had read the notice in the newspaper about the Jews’ situation. It had affected her so strongly that she felt sick in her chest. She said that no Jews had been for the dancing lesson last night.… They had vanished. When she and Tusse [their daughter] left the dance, they met a Jewish family outside, who had come over with suitcases from the Terminus Hotel. Their sons used to be part of the dance classes. One of them wanted to take a look inside, but the father said: ‘Oh good heavens, that was the way it was!’ So they went on, rigid and petrified. The woman had no fur coat—she was in a light worsted jacket. Where were they going? Elsa felt so sorry for them.”
There is still some way to go before the hardened crime reporter’s own heart starts to ache. But the irony is abating, supplanted by human sympathy. At the same, just like Heimburg, Bergstrøm predicts that the action will permanently change the relationship between occupiers and occupied: “This step now taken by the Germans will destroy much. Pressure is bound to produce counterpressure, and since we are the small ones, there will probably be hell to pay.”5
The same morning Werner Best’s second-in-command, Kanstein, telephoned Nils Svenningsen at the Foreign Ministry. The Germans were still fending off Danish authorities with talk, and Kanstein told him that no reply had come from Berlin about Svenningsen’s offer of the previous evening, that Denmark itself was ready to initiate the detention. He explained further that the Jews who were interned during the night would be sent to Germany very soon, by ship. He gave assurances that there would be no new actions like that of the night before and asked Svenningsen, in a conciliatory way, to ensure that the deportees’ apartments and property would be taken care of. The director of the Foreign Ministry was of two minds. On the one hand one “could expect a reluctance on the Danish side to deal with anything whatsoever concerning this case.” Conversely “a protective measure” might warrant consideration.
It did not take long before Svenningsen overcame his reluctance to have anything to do with it. On the contrary, he now wanted to involve the Danish authorities to ensure that no half Jews or other “fraction Jews” were accidentally deported—as had already happened. Svenningsen therefore asked for permission to “send representatives to the place where the Jews were held to check if there might be more mistakes.”
This request was the first sign that the permanent secretaries were about to change horses. If the deportations could not be stopped, it was important that the Danish authorities now engage as much as possible. The more closely Danish officials followed the deportees, the greater the chance of saving at least a few—and also the chance of holding the Germans to their commitments that the deportees would not be treated badly. This initial attempt at Danish involvement in the fate of the deportees evolved over the following days, weeks, and months into a comprehensive effort to keep track of individual Danish deportees and to ease their conditions where possible.
During the conversation Kanstein also told Svenningsen that a large group of Danish Communists—the last of those arrested by Danish police on the orders of the Danish government in 1941—were also being deported to Germany. This was extremely embarrassing as those arrested and now to be deported had been held in violation of normal legislation and, according to the prevailing view, in breach of the constitution. The attempted protection extended by Danish society toward its citizens of Jewish origin was not mirrored in the situation of the Danish Communists who were arrested in 1941 by Danish police: They were held under a sort of protective Danish control and repeatedly reassured that they would not be handed over to the Germans. But on August 29 the Germans had simply taken over the camp—and now some 150 detained Communists were being deported to an unknown fate in German concentration camps, excepting only about 90 who had managed to escape in the wake of the dramatic events on August 29.
Werner Best needed the Communists to pump up the numbers of deported, and when Svenningsen inquired it turned out that the steamer Wartheland had already left Copenhagen. All attempts to get Danish officials involved were in vain. The troubled Svenningsen was assured that the 150 Communists “would be placed in a camp and would get light work. There was no reason for concern about their fate.” Nothing could have been further from the truth. The Danish Communists were taken to Stutthof concentration camp near Danzig, present-day Gdansk, where six of the deportees perished during the following sixteen months, nine others in January 1945 during the death march from east to west, ordered because of the advancing Red Army, and another seven after liberation as a result of maltreatment and abuse.6
Frey’s Hotel
While Danish and German officials maneuvered in Copenhagen, the overloaded car on Falster arrived safely in Stubbekøbing with the whole family tired and worn out after the night in the summer colony. Unaware of the night’s events, they decided to disregard security and go into the city hotel to recuperate, wash, and get something to eat. The idea of fried eggs overcame fear, and they headed straight for the city’s finest hotel, right on the main street and a stone’s throw from the harbor. It could have been fatal.
Poul Hannover writes: “Arrived in town—again with a big car bill—and went straight in to get some breakfast—we had ordered a lot of bread and 2 fried eggs for each—Kis and Gunnar had gone to wash themselves—when the radio suddenly came on—well, I can’t remember the exact wording, but it was the announcement that since the Jews were behind all the sabotage and unrest, the German authorities had made arrangements to have them removed from public life.”
The German communication was so unbearable that Poul and Inger Hannover initially decided to keep the alarming news to themselves: “It was read twice—luckily Kis and Gunnar hadn’t heard it—and Inger and I were immediately aware that if it could be avoided, neither they nor the children should hear about it. As soon as we had eaten—it went quickly—I looked for Goldstein [the adult son of another Jewish family, who was also at Frey’s Hotel, and whom Hannover had met by chance the day before]. As his group consisted of a total of 9 people, I was aware that they might occupy several rooms, and in order not to attract too much attention, I asked him if we could borrow a few of them—in particular that our children could get some rest. Although they had slept, it had been
a tough night for them—and what was worse, the next night would hardly be better. We had room no. 10. I took the bedspreads off and put each child on his bed and told them to sleep. It was difficult—of course they could feel that our nerves were completely on edge—Kis and Gunnar got one or two other rooms—Dorte and Mette asked to be together, but I was strict—and refused. Palle even had a little cold and a small earache—but they got some powder for him—and fortunately he got better again.”
Kis wrote her own version of the arrival at the hotel and the difficulties with finding additional transport: “The first fisherman whom Talleruphuus tried was willing to sail, but it was not certain that his wife would let him. There was also talk about someone on Bogø [an island near Stubbekøbing] and a Swedish steamer, which was said to be in the harbor. Erik ran around and tried all the available options. The host at the hotel and the waiter were completely with us, and the host had told the Goldsteins that he wouldn’t send any notice to the authorities about them before they had left the hotel.
“The local priest and the bank director offered their help. The idea was to stay with them if we did not manage to depart—as we dared not stay at the hotel. Afterward we found out that Poul and Inger that morning overheard the radio announcement about apprehending the Jews, as it was they who were behind sabotage and unrest. Inger, who up to this point would rather have stayed back home, now no longer doubted that we had to leave. Still, it was obviously going to be difficult to get someone to sail for us.”
In the course of the few hours at Frey’s Hotel the family’s situation is becoming both clearer and more exposed. They are wanted, and the last doubt about the necessity of escape is swept away. At the same time it becomes clear that it is not so easy to find passage to Sweden, even for the assembled families who were prepared to pay considerable sums for the crossing. The Danes around them, from the hotel owner to the local officials, are all willing—even eager—to help. But the crucial link is the fishermen and their boats. Can and will they take the risk? For the refugees there is no choice. But for each fisherman it is a big decision that involves his whole family: A large profit is in the balance if things go well. But no one knows what the consequences will be if they go wrong. Arrest? Seizure of the vessel—the basis for the welfare of his entire family? Or even worse: sinking in the open sea, armed pursuit, deportation, torture, execution? No one knew.
The situation forces the refugees together in a community. In addition to the Hannover and Marcus families, three other families had sought refuge at Frey’s Hotel. The Goldsteins were accompanied by the Ledermann family, and by a young man, Mogens Margolinsky, all of whom were unfamiliar to the newcomers. But that changed at Frey’s Hotel, where they quickly realized that they had a shared destiny and therefore had to stick together and try to reach a joint decision. The group was far from socially homogeneous. When each accounted for their financial situation a few days later, Poul Hannover declared an annual income of 100,000 kroner, Abraham Ledermann 40,000 kroner, Gunnar Marcus 14,000 kroner, while the Goldstein brothers declared annual salaries of 1,200 and 1,500 kroner. These last declarations are somewhat confusing considering that both were educated and one of them held a position as engineer that at the time would normally generate an annual income of some 5,000 kroner. In any event, paying several thousand kroner for the passage was quite a different issue for Poul Hannover than it was for the Goldsteins.7
Frey’s Hotel on the main street of the small town of Stubbekøbing, around the beginning of World War II. The building no longer exists.
Postcard from local archive, Stubbekøbing
Allan Hannover shortly after his arrival in Sweden. The boy struggled to keep aloof from events and wrote his own diary notes. Mostly they follow his father’s, but Allan himself understood the grim dilemma his family faced as they sought escape to Sweden.
Private family collection
In his refuge with Dr. Hart in Ruds Vedby in the western part of Sjælland, the twin sisters’ father, Dr. Meyer, had also heard the German message on the radio. It made him more indignant than scared: “Next morning … I heard on the radio the infamous, vile announcement that ‘by the German Wehrmacht’s action the Jews had been separated from public life because of their acts of sabotage and aversion to Germany, and after they had poisoned and demoralized the population. In turn the military internees would be released!’ (As is well known, General Gørtz [supreme commander of the Danish army] announced later that the Danish military did not want to be released as a consequence of violence against their countrymen.) On Swedish radio I heard the offer of Sweden to receive all of the Danish Jews. The day before I had been on a little walk to Vedbygaard, but I have kept inside since, only twice a walk in the garden, because there were a few Nazis in the town. At 1:28 p.m. I picked up Mary, who brought most of her securities, otherwise only a small bag. She got the name of Miss Mary Gotfredesen.”
For years Dr. Meyer had taken care of his elderly and fragile siser-in-law, Mary Goldschmidt. Now, owing to a set of misunderstandings, she had left the north coast, where she, like thousands of others, had fled to find passage to Sweden, to travel back to Ruds Vedby to join Adolph Meyer. Although Meyer was not in a hurry, he slowly realized that he, too, had to cross the Øresund and go to Sweden. And he also felt a special responsibility for Mary, whom he had inadvertently summoned, and who now shared his fate.
In Copenhagen, Bergstrøm and other outsiders tried to get an overview of what had happened during the night—and the guesswork concerning the Germans’ next move raced on:
On the street below Politiken I met Jacob [his colleague, Johannes Jacobsen, known as Jacob]. His wife came soon after.… Jacob told a story about how his daughter had been taken last night in her home in Vestersøhus. They thought she was a Jew, because the name Jacobsen was spelled with a c. They had dragged her to the synagogue on Krystalgade, which was the collection point. It was only there that they became aware of their mistake. Through the whole thing she stood tall and proud. At home she had various illegal resistance writings, but the Germans had not seen them. Up at the paper I heard that a ship with Jews had departed. This was confirmed by a night watchman who had heard “screaming and yelling” of women and children from the same quarters.
Nielsen came home from Police Headquarters, where he had served as a “listening post.” … [Police Commissioner] Stamm had said that the search for Jews would continue. The general [Hanneken] had argued in favor of leniency. He had therefore stressed that the doors could not be forced. They had to make do with knocking. A ship with Jews had sailed, which would bring them to a camp in Bohemia. Each of them had to provide food for 8 days (how?). Between 600 and 1,000 Jews had already been taken.
Permanent Secretary Svenningsen, on behalf of all his colleagues, had been to see the general and protested against the persecution of the Jews, but the general had lamented: He had orders from the highest authorities. The German soldiers had been very sad to execute the task that they had been charged with.… Sweden had protested in Berlin; the rumor yesterday, then, had not been a lie. The empty apartments left by fleeing Jews would immediately be occupied by Christians. It was to be expected that the telephone disruption would continue.
In the Swedish legation Gustav Dardel was better informed. Shortly after midday he summed up the night’s events in a telegram to Stockholm: “Yesterday at 9 p.m. 1,000 Gestapo and Danish Frikorps moved out—as the Danish police had refused—and arrested a large, as yet unknown, number of Jews who were brought to a vessel. The phones were cut across the country. Himmler seems to be in Copenhagen. Today the newspapers maintain, under the headline ‘The soldiers released,’ that this is made possible because the Jews are now separated from public life and can no longer continue to poison the atmosphere.”
There were intense rumors that SS Reichsführer Heinrich Himmler, who was also head of the German police, was secretly in Copenhagen to oversee the operation. Just hearing the name caused most people to shudder—but the
rumor was not true. Nor was the estimated number of deportations reported by Dardel in the course of the afternoon: “The Danish police inform confidentially and provisionally that approximately 1,600 full and half Jews have been taken and abducted.”8
Meanwhile Bergstrøm comments on the German attempt to make the Danes accept the arrest of the Jews as a precondition for the release of the soldiers: “Commander Westermann told the sailors in a speech: ‘Now we are released, but only in exchange for a really dirty deed.’ He was referring to the Jews. And the sailors had loudly shouted: ‘Shame!’ There was widespread outrage in the city at the treatment [the Jews] had received.”9
Uncertainty about what really had happened led many to fear the worst. The art collector C. L. David, who as mentioned had been in the sights of the local Nazi press, did not know what to believe, or whether being half Jewish protected him. Deeply worried, on October 2 he wrote a farewell letter to his friend and adviser H. H. Bruun:
Dear Bruun,
The possibility that I will be arrested seems, unfortunately, substantially closer than it seemed during our conversation yesterday. If I am deported, I do not see the possibility that I will ever live to return. I hope that you will monitor my business, as long as there is hope that I can return. When that chance can no longer be considered reasonable, my business should be run—not sold. I refer you here to my will, which is in the safe in my living room.
You will do what can be done, both for me and my business. Thank you for this and for many years of friendship.
With the heartiest greetings also to the whole family—not least to Libbe.