“THROUGHOUT THE WINTER of 1942–1943, the resistance campaign intensified, and the successes were dramatic,” Britta says as she begins the day’s narrative. Britta and Emma had arrived late. Britta fumbled for excuses; overslept, couldn’t find the right blouse, coffee machine wasn’t working, but in truth, her energy level is down. Catherine suggests that they take the day off and use the afternoon to rest up, but Britta will hear none of it. She pops her finger on the table and says, “Right here, right now; isn’t that our marching order?” Catherine looks to Emma for support, but Emma only shrugs. What can she do?
“Acts of sabotage occurred more frequently. The clubs felt empowered by Germany’s defeats in Africa and Russia. British and Allied commando units continued their attacks along the Atlantic Wall, relying on Danish resistance fighters for support. As such, Lukas and the Holger Club were busy supplying arms and materials to foreign and domestic saboteurs. Grethe stayed active in the club meetings, but she chose not to go into the field. She was due in early February, and the ice and snow made it dangerous for her to get around.
“Lukas continued to fulfill his managerial activities at the Viking Bookstore. He wasn’t making much money, but he offered to give it all to my father as a contribution from the new boarders: Mr. and Mrs. Lukas Holstrum. My father appreciated the offer but urged him to save whatever he could. He and Grethe would need that money to establish themselves once the war ended.”
Emma leans forward. She has a keen interest in hearing about the new family dynamics. “How did it work out with a married couple living in the next bedroom,” she says with a coy smile.
Britta raises her eyebrows and lifts her chin. “Respectfully,” she says. “Nothing less. One knows when to close her ears, and the other one knows when to be discreet. I always felt that the most fascinating aspects of the new living arrangements were the political debates that went on well into the night between Lukas and my father. The Danish population, and Lukas in particular, had been outraged when the invasion occurred, and they resented Denmark’s weak capitulation. And after all, my father was a member of the Danish government and partially responsible for the Cooperation Agreement.
“Lukas also took issue with Denmark’s concession to join in the Anti-Comintern Pact. ‘Scavenius sold us down the river,’ Lukas said, referring to the time my father and Scavenius had traveled to Berlin, the time my father almost got arrested. In his criticism, Lukas was not alone. Professor Koch had been a vehement opponent of the Anti-Comintern Pact, which he considered an affirmation of Germany’s claim to Aryanism.
“‘That was a tense negotiation,’ my father said, recalling his harrowing experience with the Gestapo in Berlin. ‘Give Erik Scavenius a little credit. He held his own under enormous pressure from von Ribbentrop. Scavenius was able to affirm our red-line demands: no legislation against Denmark’s Jews, no obligation to join the German-Japan-Italian Axis, and no obligation for the Danish army to fight against a foreign power. You must agree, it took courage to stand up to the Nazis on those demands.’
“Lukas gave a dismissive wave. ‘He didn’t stand up,’ Lukas said. ‘He crawled.’ My father smiled. He was there in Berlin, he knew what happened between von Ribbentrop and Scavenius. And he could have set Lukas straight. But my father liked Lukas and he didn’t want to crush his spirit or diminish the young man’s passion and love for Denmark.
“In many ways, it seemed like my father was enjoying having a son to lock horns with. Not that raising two marvelous daughters was a disappointment, but there seemed to be a connection between Lukas and Papa, a bonding. What troubled him the most that winter were Lukas’s absences, which he knew were dangerous forays into battle zones. My father feared for his safety. As a member of Parliament, he would receive reports on resistance activities from time to time. Many of his colleagues thought that partisans were subverting the delicate relationship between Denmark and Germany.
“My father’s misgivings concerning Dr. Best were well-founded. Best received his marching orders straight from Himmler; Denmark was a rebellious little stepchild which did not respect the rules. Best’s job was to rein it in, and that meant rooting out saboteurs, which included Lukas and his Holger Club. Best sent several teams of Gestapo agents to attend rallies, lectures and any event where Danish solidarity was endorsed. They were to identify and record the attendees and follow up on them.”
“If I may interrupt for just a moment,” Liam says. “With all the increased surveillance from the Gestapo, weren’t the clubs also concerned about informers like Henryks? Weren’t they considered partners of the Gestapo?”
“Hmph,” Britta scoffs. “The answer is yes. The Germans were paying for leads and information about resistance groups. As for Ole Hendricksen, he and his family were ne’er-do-wells, always looking for an easy buck. I have no doubts he was hanging around trying to find out who was in a resistance club, so he could sell the information to the Gestapo. After getting burned the first time, the members of the Holger Club took great care not to talk to anyone outside their immediate membership.
“As Grethe’s due date approached, she begged Lukas not to go out on assignments. ‘Let the others go,’ she said. ‘I need you here with me. What if I went into labor and you weren’t here, and Parliament was in session and Britta was in school? Who would help me?’ Lukas agreed. He would only take on a mission if it was urgent and he was personally needed. But, despite Lukas’s assurances, Grethe’s fears were realized on February 2, 1943.”
Gladys knocks and enters the room with a phone message. She is sorry to interrupt but the clerk of the appellate court is calling about a real estate case Catherine is handling. Oral argument is scheduled in two weeks and the justices have received an emergency motion from Catherine’s opponent. Both attorneys must be present before the court tomorrow at ten o’clock to argue the motion. Catherine swears under her breath. This appellate matter has been a nightmare since the day it was filed. Now she will lose a day of preparation in Britta’s case, a day she cannot afford to lose.
“I’m going to have to cut this short today,” Catherine says. “We’ll have an off day tomorrow and we’ll resume on Thursday. Britta, I don’t need to tell you how important it is to move on to the heart of the matter. I know you want to tell the whole story, but we have ten days left before we must comply with Judge Wilson’s order. Please be thinking of how you can separate the wheat from the chaff. Considering the time remaining, be economical; give us what we need.”
Britta nods her understanding, but it is unclear that she will change course. Britta is Britta, and it is likely that she will proceed at her pace.
“Emma,” Catherine says, “since we’re not going to work together tomorrow, I suggest that your grandmother take the day to rest up. We’ll see you both on Thursday.”