1944

Astrid, Karin and Lars, 1943.

 

7 JANUARY

I don’t seem to have had time to write anything since New Year. Nor did I cut out any of the ‘reviews’ of 1943 that were in the papers. But I’ll stake my money on it being the ‘year of peace’ that has just dawned. There’s got to be peace in 1944, and an end to this anarchy.

They announced the day before yesterday on ‘Sveriges Radio’, as it’s to be known from the start of this year, that Kaj Munk, the clergyman and poet, was taken from his home in Vedersø, shot in the head with a pistol and then thrown in a roadside ditch. It’s sad and upsetting enough to make you weep. The number of acts of violence in Denmark is growing from day to day; it seems worse there than anywhere else.

Reports came through the other day that the Russians have now reached the old Polish border, which has not been in their hands since the first week of the Germany–Russia war. Every communiqué speaks of German withdrawal to prepared positions and planned retreat – but only ever retreat and more retreat.

Now the children and I are at Näs. It hasn’t been as lovely as last year, when the woods were like a fairy-tale forest with thick snow on every tree and bush – this year there’s no snow at all. But it’s been nice all the same, especially Twelfth Night when I had a couple of wonderful hours skating on the frozen Stångån [river] with Karin, Gunvor, Barbro and Karin Karlsson. I haven’t spent much time with Lars, he’s had Göran for company, and anyway, we haven’t been getting on very well; Lasse’s very touchy these days. But things will improve. I hope!

Finnish authoress Hella Wuolijoki has been given a life sentence for spying for the Russians.

14 JANUARY

I was going to paste in a few things about the murder of Kaj Munk, which still shocks and upsets people, but I’ve mislaid the cuttings. So the best thing, while I still remember, is for me to try reconstructing the newspapers’ version of events. So – Kaj Munk, who lived and worked in an insignificant little parish named Vedersø but whose words reached far beyond the borders of his parish and his country, had been out to some kind of little hunting lodge with his wife and children on that unfortunate day. When they got home and were having a meal, two, or it might have been three, uniformed men turned up, claiming to have an arrest warrant for Munk. He took a small bag, got in their car and was driven away – and was later found lying in a ditch, shot through the forehead. Today’s papers say investigations revealed that those who did it were members of Frits Clausen’s party.

In Italy the old Fascists who forced Mussolini out in July have been on trial and the verdicts are in. Most were sentenced to death, among them old Ciano, whose sentence has already been carried out. Ciano wanted to be shot from the front, with his eyes uncovered. According to yesterday’s paper Edda Ciano, Mussolini’s daughter, informed on her own husband. It all sounds like ancient Rome, if you ask me.

23 JANUARY

Since I last wrote there’s been a big hoo-ha between Russia and Poland over their future borders; just as one would have expected, the Russians have proved unwilling to meet the Poles’ demands.

In Russia they are now fighting it out for Leningrad; the Germans certainly seem to be surrounded there. In Italy, the battle for Rome is expected any day.

I’m sure other things have happened, too, but I don’t recall them just now.

Oh yes, the Allies are nearing Rome.

And Argentina has broken with the Axis. The same Argentina which has been a long-standing and loyal Axis stronghold, but that’s all over now. A letter to Axis ‘agents’ in Argentina was intercepted, but the Germans claim it’s a forgery.

6 FEBRUARY

Nordahl Grieg, who was fighting with the free Norwegians based in Britain, has been killed.

Ten divisions of Germans are encircled at the Dnieper and at risk of annihilation. Their only links with their own side are by air. Their commanders flew to see Hitler and asked permission to capitulate, but Hitler said no. The Russians have now almost reached the Estonian border and the Estonians are fleeing in droves. To Finland and Sweden. Lots of them have been coming across to Gotland in small boats. Anything rather than fall into Russian hands.

At present we have around 40,000 refugees in Sweden. I’m not sure if I wrote about the ‘police training’ in the camps for the Norwegians. They call it that, but it’s more like regular firearms training and military service. I gather from Norwegian refugee letters that they wear British army uniforms. I also saw it reported that they’re being trained by British officers. One letter I saw, from Georg von Wendt, said Norwegians were being deported [from Norway] as a direct response to the weapons training being given to our Norwegian refugees. The deportation continues and Sweden does nothing, and presumably can do nothing, about it. But we made vocal protests about it in advance. The refugees here don’t like us much, but perhaps that’s only natural. It’s dismal being a refugee, and easy to turn your frustration on your hosts. The Norwegians seem particularly resentful of us. I think I shall cut out an article by Aksel Sandemose in Vecko-Journalen. ‘The people of France are starving and freezing’, Célie Brunius wrote in Svenska Dagbladet today. Everything goes to Germany, as it does from all the other occupied countries. There’s nothing to buy, no clothes, no shoes, no china, no food, nothing. In free France, it’s even worse.

8 FEBRUARY

The day before yesterday, that is, when I last wrote, the evening news reported that about 200 Russian planes had carried out a bombing raid on Helsinki, inflicting great damage. This is believed to be the start of a campaign on the Russians’ part to force the Finns into peace. There’s very obvious alarm about the Russians now, in the letters and elsewhere.

Elsa Gullander told us yesterday that the Finland Aid Society rang to ask her if she could take Taina back. ‘It might be nicer for you than compulsory billeting,’ they said, and told her that Sweden is ready to take 800,000 Finnish refugees if things go catastrophically in Finland. All of Karelia is being evacuated again; what unspeakable misery for the Karelians, who returned to their land with such high hopes when the Russians were driven out. It’s awful to contemplate the fate of Finland – and the poor Baltic states! Russian submarines have ventured out into the Baltic again, so our merchant vessels are back travelling in convoys. All the children and old people are being evacuated from Helsinki. I’m worried about the future – even here in Sweden, we will no doubt have heavy fates to bear, we can’t expect everything to unfold in total peace here.

Peace, when it comes, might not be anything to rejoice about but just the opposite. By then, many of these poor little countries will have had to give up their freedom to live in eternal slavery.

17 FEBRUARY

The billboards tell us Helsinki is under violent Russian bombardment. And former minister Paasikivi is currently in Stockholm, dragged from the sanctity of private life to discuss peace with the Russians. That’s what the whole world thinks, at least, though he doggedly insists he’s here in a private capacity. But the idea of a Finland–Russia peace is currently in the air; it could even be 12 March again [as in 1940], who knows?

Berlin is still being pounded by bombs. I’m just reading The World of Yesterday by Stefan Zweig; it’s a few years now since he, a refugee, took his own life somewhere in South America. He experienced two world wars and also the happy time before the First World War, when humanity’s illusions were still intact. It’s a sad book, especially as one always has the author’s bitter fate at the back of one’s mind and knows it is shared by countless other individuals, perhaps as warm-hearted as he seems to have been.

I have a quiet spell for my writing this evening. Sture’s in Göteborg, Lars is doing his homework in his room and Karin has just been sick and gone to bed. She’s going through some kind of nervous crisis, which expresses itself in exaggerated attachment to me and anxiety that something might happen to me. This concern only descends on her in the evenings. On Tuesday, Sture and I were off to dinner at the Viridéns, for Alli’s 40th birthday, and when I came to say goodbye to Karin she said, ‘You’re saying farewell, as if you weren’t coming back!’ And when I got back, she had my dressing gown draped over her. I only hope it’s just a phase.

Alli’s dinner was a great success. The other guests were the Gullanders, Ingmans, Abrahamssons, Eveos and Palmgrens, plus the Hultstrands and a Miss Nyberg. Sigge took me in to dinner. I must write down what we had, partly because I enjoy writing about food and partly because one never knows, in times like these, how long we can carry on eating this way in Sweden. So: three cocktail sandwiches, mushroom croustade, asparagus soup with cheese straws, turkey with vegetables, ice cream and hot chocolate sauce. Sherry with the soup and dessert, red wine with the turkey. And then a little late-night supper: meatballs, mushroom omelette, herring salad and herrings au gratin. We danced and larked about and at 2 a.m. the people in the flat below called to complain, because by then we were dancing a polka fit to make the whole house shake. Enough of all that, I’m off to bed.

23 FEBRUARY

Yesterday evening when it was time for me to go down to work, Karin was afraid as usual that something might happen to me. I told her there was no need to worry; nothing would happen in our peaceful land. ‘If we lived in a country at war, where there’s bombing,’ I said, ‘that would be different.’ So off I went to work, and on the 10 o’clock news they said that a short time earlier, unknown aircraft came in over Stockholm and dropped a load of bombs on Hammarbyhöjden, then flew on over Södertälje and Strängnäs and dropped more there, too. There was no air-raid warning and no anti-aircraft fire (because the planes had sent out SOS signals). I’m grateful the bombs didn’t fall here in Vasastan, because it would have done serious damage to Karin’s nervous system. I kept the paper from her this morning, so she still doesn’t know about it. The planes were Russian.

It’s Karin and Lars’s half-term holiday, though Karin only gets three days. Lars has gone on the school trip up to the fells at Enafors. Karin’s been in bed with a cold part of the time but she and I also went out skiing. Today Elsa-Lena, Matte and their mums came round. The children were out on their skis. Some lovely sunshine.

3 MARCH

Well, as the article alongside shows, peace between Russia and Finland is on the cards. But Finland is dubious – and no wonder! – Norwegian and Danish refugees express their contempt of our terror of the Russians, but we know it’s justified.

[Press cutting from Dagens Nyheter, 1 March 1944: Moscow willing to receive Finnish delegation. Russia reveals its terms.]

The translation opposite of a letter from a Latvian wife (smuggled out) to her husband in Portugal describes how it feels in Latvia (where they now have to put up with the Germans, after all).

[Typed transcript of a letter from Astrid’s work at the censor’s office.]

And now the Russians are nearing their border. When the Germans collapse there’ll be no hope for the Baltic states, as far as one can judge – and then, poor people.

Tage Bågstam told us poison has been distributed to the population so they can kill themselves if the worst comes to the worst. And I can’t help feeling it will!

20 MARCH

Either nothing much has been happening in the war or I’ve been too lazy to write anything. The most noteworthy thing at present is the peace negotiations between Finland and Russia. They’ve been going on for some time but without result, it seems. The Finns refuse to yield, despite pressure from Britain and the USA. The whole thing strikes me as rather mysterious. Finland’s more or less got a knife to its throat and will surely have to agree to the Russians’ conditions before long. King Gustaf apparently contacted Mannerheim and Ryti and appealed to them to try for a peace settlement.

On the home front, Karin’s had a nasty case of the measles and still isn’t allowed out of bed. I’m currently having really good fun with Pippi Longstocking.

21 MARCH

I feel I’ve neglected to keep track of the Finnish–Russian peace negotiations as I ought; I don’t think I’ve even said anything about Russia’s conditions. They largely boil down (as far as one can tell) to the 1940 border and the internment of all German troops in Finland, with Russian help if need be. Finland’s reply up to now has been ‘no’, they want the conditions more precisely defined first, but the Russians want them to surrender first and argue it out later. Given the Finns’ mistrust of Russia, no wonder the Finns want some guarantees first.

1 APRIL

Lots of people are getting their call-up papers at the moment. Sture came home the other day and said the Germans plan to occupy Finland the same way they did Hungary, but I hope it isn’t true. I’m so fed up with the war I can’t bring myself to write about it. What’s more, I’m in bed with a sprained foot. Bother!

4 APRIL

On this day I have been married for 13 years. The beautiful bride is stuck in bed, however, which gets pretty boring in the long run. I like it in the mornings when they bring me tea and white bread with smoked ham in bed and I get the bed made for me and the place nicely tidied around me, but I loathe it at night, when I have to have some kind of hot compress on my foot and it itches like mad and Sture’s asleep but I can’t get off to sleep myself. I’m reading Maugham’s Of Human Bondage and working on Pippi Longstocking.

It doesn’t look as though there’ll be peace in Finland. It’s time for the children’s programme on the radio, so I can’t write any more for now.

It’s possible that this diary contains a disproportionate amount about the Germans’ rampages, because Dagens Nyheter is our daily paper and that’s more anti-German than any other rag and never misses a chance of highlighting German atrocities. It’s beyond all doubt, however, that such atrocities do actually happen. Even so, it says at the end of this cutting about Poland that the Poles ‘would prefer the German regime’ to the Russian ‘if there were no other choice’. That’s probably also the case in the Baltic states and other countries, but for that to appear in Dagens Nyheter must be a slip-up.

[Press cuttings from Dagens Nyheter, 5 April 1944: ‘Executions on the Streets of Warsaw’; ‘Warsaw children in gangster leagues’: children neglected, stealing guns; prices rocketing; segregated cinemas for Germans and Poles; ‘Eminent Hungarians in concentration camps, others taken to Vienna as hostages’.]

16 APRIL

The battle for Sebastopol, the final German stronghold in the Crimea, has started. The southern front looks precarious, I must say, the Russians are in Romania and will soon be threatening the German oil supply. They’ve also crossed the Czechoslovak border.

The Allies are cross with us and other neutral states for supplying things to Germany. And send us stern memos about it. But we don’t care.

We marked Easter in our customary way. There’s a lot of food in the land of Sweden, and I’ll write down what we had, as guidance for future Easters. On Good Friday, completely untraditional calves’ liver, on Easter Saturday, as usual, eggs and a smörgåsbord (home-made liver pâté, herring salad, marinated Baltic herring, cold poached Baltic herring, pickled herring, smoked reindeer, boiled ham with beetroot and I don’t know what else) and ice cream for dessert. And Sture and I had a very posh sherry, because we were celebrating our wedding anniversary that day rather than on the 4th. On Easter Day we had roast chicken and on Easter Monday pork chops.

On Easter Saturday, Lasse claimed he had an invitation to a dance at some girl’s place in Tureberg; I told him he was to be home by 1 o’clock. But he didn’t get back till 4, I was beside myself and had rung round, waking everybody up, and discovered from Göran that he was at the Winter Palace with a girl called Britta-Kajsa Falk.

Karin’s very nervy and I had my hands full with her over Easter. She’s not much better now, either; I think it must be the after-effects of the measles, though she was pretty dotty even before that, of course. Since I’m tied to the flat thanks to my foot, she certainly can’t be anxious on my account, but her mental state is terribly volatile, swinging from jittery high spirits to deep dejection and moaning about school and about having to play the piano. I’m feeling quite down myself at the moment, presumably because I haven’t been able to go out for three weeks. And I hope to God that Karin will soon get better, because it’s awful having her like this and I feel so sorry for her, too. Lasse’s living it up and always seems to be invited out somewhere; can’t settle when he’s at home, either, it seems to me, which makes me very sad.

23 APRIL

On Saturday night Moscow Radio read out a declaration about the Finnish–Russian peace negotiations. It said that the Finnish response on 8 March was considered unsatisfactory and that Russia’s conditions, which had been delivered to Paasikivi, represented its minimum demands. A Finnish delegation then went to Moscow and conferred with Molotov on 27–28 March. The following conditions were delivered to the delegation:

[Press cuttings from Svenska Dagbladet, 23 April 1944: list of seven conditions plus short accompanying piece, ‘Sharp Russian declaration on the Finnish question’.]

21 MAY

This blessed invasion that’s been hanging in the air for several years now but never happens! There’s talk of ‘D-Day’ and ‘H-Hour’, but nothing happens. Several different dates have been identified, but I reckon any invasion is going to be a long time coming. I think it’s a war of nerves to keep the Germans tied up in the West.

[Press cutting from Dagens Nyheter, 21 May 1944, captioned by Astrid ‘The story of “Lili Marlene”, the hit song of the Second World War’.]

Although ‘Lili Marlene’ fever has abated now, I’ve included this cutting, because the tune will forever be linked with the Second World War, just as ‘Tipperary’ and ‘Madelon’ belong to the First.

I’ve also put in Ivar Harrie’s review of Der letzte Jude aus Polen [The Last Jew from Poland, published as The Promise Hitler Kept] because it gives some idea of how the Germans ravaged that poor country. I don’t doubt for a moment that this it’s a true account; I’ve just been reading Norwid’s book Landet utan Quisling [The Land without Quisling] (Poland) and the details of the atrocities tally. I don’t think the Germans even bother to deny that the Jews have been exterminated.

[Unidentified press cutting. Review by Ivar Harrie of Stefan Szende’s book The Promise Hitler Kept.]

Karin was ten today, the fifth of her birthdays we have had to celebrate in wartime. Or rather, that’s claiming too much; here at home we have peace, thank goodness, though it seems to have been touch and go this spring. The Allies disapproved strongly, and no doubt still do, of our export of ball bearings to Germany. But after all, the attack (which was perhaps feared) would have come from Germany; I don’t understand what they’d gain by attacking us, but then nobody’s asking me to.

To get back to Karin’s birthday, we marked it in the usual way. Her presents included Folkskolans läsebok [The Elementary School Reader] in three parts, a Peter No-Tail book and the manuscript of ‘Pippi Longstocking’ in a smart black file. Also a swimsuit (seersucker), white canvas shoes with wooden soles, some blouse fabric, books from the Viridéns and Gullanders, plus money from Granny and Grandad and from Grandmother. She also had a new strap for her watch. Pelle [Viridén], Alli, Peter (Matte wasn’t well) and Elsa-Lena came round for coffee and cake. It’s been a cold, gusty day like nearly all the rest this spring; generally, summer arrives on Karin’s birthday. Tomorrow we’ve got some girls from her class coming, which she’s quite anxious about (what with being so nervy this term). She didn’t want to invite them all but she’s worried about what those she didn’t will say.

Lasse’s been in bed for the past fortnight with a ‘pretty decent’ bout of influenza, running a temperature that went up to 40°. He’s supposedly better now but still has a cough. He wanted to go to the pictures last night, his first day out of bed, and there was a great slam-banging of doors when I wouldn’t let him go despite persistent pestering on his part. But I expect he was a bit peeved after all that time stuck in bed.

6 JUNE

INVASION – finally! Allied troops, with support from the air, have landed in north-western France. Thousands of troop ships and thousands of planes crossed the Channel early this morning.

General Eisenhower addressed the occupied countries (we heard it too), as did King Haakon. Hitler has apparently made himself commander-in-chief of the German forces. This is a historic date and must surely be the prelude to an even bigger push. It’ll be thrilling, just thrilling, to see how things go. The Allies have a huge advantage in both sea and air power.

Personally I’ve been in a foul mood this Swedish Flag Day and invasion day. Lasse came home yesterday with absolutely lousy final grades and will have to retake the year. And the place has been in a mess while I get ready for the trip to Vimmerby the day after tomorrow. Karin’s exams are tomorrow.

The Allies have marched into Rome! And so, finally – the INVASION!

13 JUNE

For the past couple of days a Russian offensive has been under way on the Karelian Isthmus. The Russians clearly intend to force the Finns into subjugation now. The attack seems to have come quite unexpectedly and the Russians have broken through in several places and crossed the 1939 border. There’ll be loads more Finnish children coming over here now.

The bridgehead in Normandy has deepened and widened in all directions. German resistance has hardened, but it still looks as if things are going the Allies’ way. I can’t keep up with operations in detail. On the news they were talking about Bayeux, Caen, Carentan and so on. Churchill went there on a visit and gave the V sign.

The kids and I are at Näs, enjoying our holiday in spite of really awful weather. It’s poured and poured and poured with rain. But this afternoon it was quite warm and fair so Stina and I went for a lovely walk through Kohagen and down to the railway (passing a ditch that was simply full of Primula farinosa and we found a bird’s nest at the edge), then down to Stångån [river], over the railway bridge, on to Nybble and then home. Nature really is in its finest raiment just now. Tonight Lasse had an evening out at Folkets Park with Stina and will very likely be home late. Karin’s living a very happy and carefree life, not clinging to me at all. Tomorrow we’re cycling to Målen. Karin got good marks as usual, including three Abs [pass with merit], I think it was.

MIDSUMMER DAY

This is more or less what’s happened since last time. The Russian offensive on the Karelian Isthmus has continued unabated. Russian gains include Vyborg [Viipuri], alas and alack! Things look bad for the Finns. There’s been a government crisis looming for a while. Tanner and Linkomies will have to go before there can be peace with Russia.

In Normandy, around 30,000 Germans are cut off on the Cherbourg peninsula, where they’re holding their positions so far.

The Germans have come up with a new kind of devilry, namely robot planes, which fly in over England and cause explosions and huge fires. The British are highly indignant because the planes, being unmanned, can’t be aimed at military targets and so cause indiscriminate damage.

Those are roughly speaking the most important things that have happened recently, I think.

And Lasse and I took ourselves off on a cycling trip: Virserum – Skirö – Holsbybrunn – Fagerhult – Kråkshult – Vimmerby. It was fine and warm both days and we dropped in on Mum and Dad in Holsbybrunn. And Småland was a delight, so beautiful.

Karin seems very good at falling off her bike and keeps grazing her legs.

19 JULY

Blood is spilt, people are maimed, misery and despair are everywhere. And I simply don’t care. I’m only interested in my own problems. I always try to write a few words about what’s been happening since my last entry. But now I can only write: a landslide has engulfed my existence and left me alone and shivering. I shall try to ‘bide my time and wait for dawn’, but what if no dawn comes?

I shall try to make myself write a little about what’s happening in the world, anyway.

The Russians have made amazing gains and are already in the Baltic states, which the Germans certainly seem to propose giving up. The Russians are now extremely close to the East Prussian border. Things aren’t going that fast in Normandy, but they are making progress there, too.

Representatives of the Finnish government went to see Ribbentrop and sealed the alliance with Germany still further. As a result, the USA has finally broken off diplomatic relations.

That’s all I can remember. I’m in a state of agony, my heart aches so much – where will I find the strength to go back to town and pretend to live a normal life?

2 AUGUST

Alone at Dalagatan with bitter despair in my heart, Karin at Solö, Lasse in Näs, Linnéa on holiday, Sture?

There have been major developments, but I haven’t felt like writing. Even something as remarkable as an attempt on Hitler’s life hasn’t stirred me into action.

And today it says in the paper that Finland’s Ryti-Linkomies cabinet has stepped down. That is, Ryti was president, wasn’t he? But now it’s Mannerheim instead. The new government will try to get peace with Russia, of course.

‘Turkey breaks with Germany,’ the billboards say this evening. So things could all fall apart at any time.

Just as they have fallen apart for me.

23 AUGUST

Paris is liberated from the Germans. After four years’ captivity. I remember the day we read on the billboards that the swastika was flying on the Eiffel Tower. That must be centuries ago.

27 AUGUST

The other day – the 23rd, I think – Romania surrendered and went so far as to declare war on Germany.

It seems inconceivable that Germany will hold out much longer. I found a good account of the war in the Dagens Nyheter Sunday supplement today. I’ll paste it in, but first let me put in a gentleman who was on the ‘Names in the News’ page of Dagens Nyheter the other day.

[Press cutting from an undated article headed ‘Culture Bus’, with photo of Sture Lindgren, about how the Swedish motorists’ association is planning for the end of the war.]

The original himself had gone astray. And I was sorely afflicted.

Today – this hot August Sunday – Ingvar, the children and I went to Skansen.

7 SEPTEMBER

The war is just past its fifth birthday and everything’s happening at once; it’s such a shame I’m in no fit state to write much about it.

Finland has broken with Germany, and a ceasefire with Russia has come into force. (On 4 September, I think.)

Bulgaria has broken with Germany, too; and in fact declared war.

The first German cities have been taken by the Allies.

The Russians are on the march through Eastern Pomerania. It can’t be long before the Germans give up.

15 SEPTEMBER

This evening’s papers say it’s war between Finland and Germany. German naval forces attempted to land at various points last night. Peace negotiations between Russia and Finland are in full swing.

[Short, unidentified, incomplete press cutting about Europe marching on Germany.]

30 OCTOBER

I make entries in here more and more rarely. I’ve got so much else to think about and I’ve been in such a state of nervous tension all autumn that I couldn’t bring myself to write anything. Just at the moment it looks as though the worst crisis might be over, but I can’t really be sure yet whether things are going in the right direction. But there are a few cheering things happening as well.

[Unidentified cutting: ‘Secondary-school teacher wins first prize in girls’ book competition’. Astrid Lindgren has won the second prize in the competition, run by children’s book publisher Rabén & Sjögren, for a book which the article says will probably be called ‘The Confidences of Britt’.]

Incidentally, the Russians are fighting in Northern Norway and it looks as though they can forget Finnish independence.

Letter from a German officer to his Swedish wife. He was killed just afterwards.

[Typed transcript of a letter from Astrid’s work at the censor’s office. The writer is in a dugout under fire. He suggests a boy’s and a girl’s name for the child she is expecting.]

 

[Photograph from Vi magazine of Astrid’s brother-in-law and sister with an old man. Lindgren has copied out the text.]

A Vimmerby resident currently known across the land is the young author and journalist Hans Håkansson, who has made a name for himself with his novels about stonecutters in Småland and his other stylistically and psychologically well-written books. This year he changed his name and is now known as Hans Hergin. Here we see Hans Hergin and his wife Stina on their way to Vimmerby market, arm in arm with the town’s toughest old boy, 92-year-old Johan Petter Svensson, rarely called anything but ‘Lucke’.

My very first review.

[Press cutting from Stockholms-Tidningen, 23 November 1944: ‘Prizewinning books’ includes a positive review of her Britt-Mari lättar sitt hjärta (The Confidences of Britt-Mari).]

26 NOVEMBER

On this dark November Sunday I’m writing in front of the fire in the living room while Lasse is getting dressed – it’s 3.30 – and Karin’s in her room, typing (no, she just came to join me!) Sture is not home, far from it. Karin and I went for a walk to Haga cemetery this afternoon.

Other than that, the world looks roughly like this: there’s appalling misery among the civilian population in Northern Norway, who have been forced to evacuate in the face of the Russian advance. There’s terrible hardship in Holland too, in fact where isn’t there terrible hardship? It seems to be everywhere. In West Germany it’s ghastly, with the persistent bombing, and what’s more the Allies are now on German soil.

Hitler is saying absolutely nothing, to the whole world’s amazement. The Nazis had some kind of jubilee recently and Hitler didn’t speak at that either, but Himmler gave an address and said Hitler had so much to do at headquarters that he hadn’t got time to make a speech to the people. And the people, dreading the sixth winter of the war, could certainly have done with a word from their Führer.

The Gotland ferry the Hansa went down a few nights ago on the way from Nynäshamn to Visby. Presumably it was torpedoed. Two were rescued but about 100 people went down with the ship. It’s the worst disaster to befall Sweden in modern times.

The Germans announced a while ago that the whole Baltic outside territorial waters was to be viewed as a war zone. Sweden protested. This is probably their response to our protest, I imagine.

17 DECEMBER

How about writing something in this little book? I’m sitting alone in front of the fire this third Sunday in Advent. Lasse’s at the pictures, Karin round at Matte’s making ‘Christmas tree baskets’. Sture’s in Göteborg, unless he’s back by now. In exactly a week’s time it will be Christmas Eve, and yesterday a hamper arrived from Vimmerby bringing ham, salt beef, pig’s liver, shoulder of pork and more besides, so we won’t starve during the abattoir-workers’ strike.

It doesn’t look as if there’ll be peace just yet. German resistance in the West has intensified, and in spite of the terrible bombing it seems their will to go on fighting can’t be crushed that easily. The Russians are pushing forward: Budapest is clearly being razed to the ground. In Greece, revolutionary troops have been fighting back against the British invasion corps and the puppet government; the Russians are probably behind it. In Northern Norway only an invasion can save hundreds of thousands from starving to death, it said in the paper the other day. There’s such horrific and desperate need all over Europe that one simply can’t take it in. Except here! The sixth Christmas of the war will be celebrated as usual. How the celebrations will go in the Lindgren family is perhaps a bit more problematic. But I hope things will go well. Meanwhile, I’m really pleased about ‘Britt-Mari’.

CHRISTMAS DAY

‘I am acutely aware that these must be the happiest years of my life, surely nobody can do as well as this in the long run? I’m fully expecting that trials will lie ahead.’ That was what I wrote last Christmas Day. I didn’t know how right I was. Trials did lie ahead – but I still wouldn’t say I’m unhappy. I’ve had a hell of a six months this second half of 1944 and the ground beneath me has been shaken to its very foundations; I’m disconsolate, down, disappointed, often melancholy – but I’m not really unhappy. There’s still so much to fill my existence. By any standards it should have been an awful Christmas – and it’s true I shed some bitter tears into the herring salad when I was making it on the 23rd, but I was so exhausted at that point that it doesn’t count. And besides, if happy is synonymous with being fortunate, then I suppose I’m still ‘happy’. But being happy isn’t that simple. There’s one thing I’ve learnt – if you’re to be happy, it has to come from inside you and not from another person. In spite of everything, I think I’ve done pretty well at finding things to be happy about. But I have a feeling I may be put under even more pressure and then we’ll see how clever I am.

Anyway, I’ve managed to have Christmas here at home without the children or Grandmother noticing anything but peace and happiness, I think. Both the children were so pleased with their presents and their Christmas Eve.

Lasse had: anorak, ski boots, cardigan, white woollen scarf, two pairs underpants (he gets those every year), cufflinks, everyday trousers, a new watchstrap, All the Adventures in the World, [Helen MacInnes’s] While We Still Live, a marzipan pig; those were the ones I bought, and he got other presents from Karin and Ingegerd and visiting cards from the Lagerblads and money from Granny and Grandad. Karin had a pleated grey skirt, dark-blue cardigan, socks, The Black Brothers and Shipwreck Island [stories by German-born Swiss writer Lisa Tetzner], Swedish Plants, Gustav Vasa’s Adventures in Dalarna [children’s history book by Anna Maria Roos], copies of The Fairytale Prince and The Fairytale Princess [story magazines], Happy Families, a puzzle, a marzipan pig, a purse, plus Mary Poppins Opens the Door from Matte, writing paper from Ingegerd, a puzzle from Linnéa, money from Granny and Grandad. I had a very nice alarm clock from Sture, which was delivered a few days before Christmas Eve. Karin was delighted to be giving me a bath brush.

We forgot to dip bread in the ham stock [a seasonal Swedish custom] on Christmas Eve – but otherwise everything followed the usual regulations.

This morning Lasse and I took a walk out towards Haga. Sture didn’t want to go to Skansen this Christmas Day, oh no, you bet he didn’t!

This afternoon I roasted a goose and braised some red cabbage – and made a batch of apple sauce, a strange occupation for Christmas Day, but the apples wanted using up. On the 27th the children are off to Småland – and I shall follow on New Year’s Eve and oh, how I’m longing for that! I shall be on sick leave for three weeks, for ‘neurosis and insomnia’.

If all were as it should be, it would be just too good! What with Britt-Mari and everything! But now all is not as it should be, and perhaps that’s the whole point! What’s more, one only has to look about one in the world a little to appreciate that nothing is as it should be, nor will ever be.

Well I’m blowed, the Germans have mounted an offensive in the West. This war isn’t going to end for some time yet, not by any means!