“I HAD PROMISED Grethe that I would find out what happened to Lukas, and I had failed. Professor Koch had no information though he had heard that some boys were arrested, and he believed that some were shot. Knud Gunnison told me that Lukas had fallen during the escape, but he gave me no further information. My father had discreetly put out feelers to his law enforcement contacts, but nothing had come of it. Now I was back at home, sitting with my sister in her bedroom, and trying to comfort her. It was the night before her baby was born.
“Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the front door, shattering all of the calm I was trying to create. Then another and another. Hard, frantic rapping. My father rushed to the door and opened it to find two men standing in the hallway. I had a partial view from where I sat on the end of Grethe’s bed.
“‘Herr Morgenstern?’ one of the men said in an imperious, discourteous tone. His accent was decidedly German.
“My father was angry. ‘Who are you to come banging on my door like that?’ he demanded.
“The man took an identification card from his inside jacket pocket and showed it to my father. It read ‘Geheime Staatspolizei,’ German for secret state police, which everyone commonly referred to as the Gestapo.
“‘What is it you want?’ my father asked. ‘If this is official business, you may make an appointment at my office in the administration building, where I keep regular office hours. You have no right to come to my home.’
“‘Really, Herr Morgenstern? I think it is not up to you to tell me what my rights are. Where is Lukas Holstrum?’ The man’s demeanor was officious; he kept his chin in the air and a smirk on his face. His tone was brusque. I was well-aware of my father’s temperament when he got angry, and I knew that they were going to lock horns. These were two Gestapo agents who were not accustomed to being challenged in their interrogations, but Joseph Morgenstern was not a man to back down. He would stand his ground. Knowing that, I was frightened for him.
“The first Gestapo agent, the one who did all the talking, was a short, stocky man in a long tan overcoat and a brown felt fedora. ‘We have learned that Lukas Holstrum is living in this residence with his wife. Oh ya, we know that he is here, so do not try to deceive us. We want to talk to Lukas Holstrum.’
“The agent’s loud demands carried into the bedroom and frightened Grethe. She started shaking. She grabbed my arms and dug in her nails. ‘The Gestapo is looking for Lukas,’ she said to me in a voice that was part whisper and part panic. ‘This is terrible, Britta.’
“‘Maybe it’s not so terrible,’ I said quietly. ‘It means they don’t have him. He’s not in their custody and they believe he’s still alive. If he was in prison, or if he had been killed, they wouldn’t be here right now.’ That seemed to calm Grethe and she nodded.
“My father had stationed himself in the doorway blocking the entrance into our home like a brick wall. ‘Lukas is not here,’ he said, ‘but even if he was, the Gestapo has no jurisdiction here and no authority to confront him at my home or frankly, anywhere else in our country. The Gestapo does not enter Danish homes uninvited! All criminal and civil matters are under the jurisdiction of the Danish police and the Danish courts. I am a member of Parliament and I know the law.’
“The Gestapo agent said something quietly to his associate, and then, more loudly and sarcastically, he boomed, ‘He knows the law, Helmut, what do you think of that? He knows the law.’
“‘I am a duly elected official, a member of the Danish Parliament,’ my father said, ‘and I know that we are not in Germany and you can’t come barging into my house. That is the law.’ In that regard my father was right. Policies set by the Cooperation Agreement forbade German forces, and especially the Gestapo, from forcing their way into homes or businesses. They were to apply to the local municipal police if they thought there was a crime. My father stood stern and powerful, and I loved him for it.
“‘We know who you are, Herr Member of Parliament,’ the Nazi said in his pompous tone. ‘As a member of the Danish government, you should know that Dr. Best has been assigned here because of Denmark’s rampant disobedience. It has allowed anarchists and revolutionaries to run wild and sabotage lawful German operations with impunity. They must be rounded up and punished.’
“My father held up his finger and wagged it back and forth. ‘But only by Danish law enforcement personnel, not by you.’
“‘Alas, Herr Morgenstern, Danish civil authorities are not doing their job. That is why Dr. Best is now in Copenhagen. The high command in Berlin has sent him here to protect German interests. He is not a man to be trifled with. Dr. Best will make sure that the illegal packs of partisans, like Lukas Holstrum, do not cause any further damage to our interests. Verstehen?’
“‘Well, if Best has you two running around, I guess he’s not doing such a good job, is he?’ my father said. ‘So, if you’ve come to bother me at my house, this conversation is over. Good day.’
“The man didn’t move. ‘We want Lukas Holstrum, Herr Member of Parliament, not you. He is a criminal and a threat to our military operations. He and his so-called Holger Gang have already caused millions of marks in damages. Dr. Best has labeled him a revolutionary and a communist operative.’
“‘Good day!’ my father repeated, but the agent did not back away. Instead, he shouted over my father’s shoulder, ‘Lukas Holstrum! Lukas Holstrum, come show yourself! You must come out here for questioning, right now!’ The situation was growing more tense, but my father remained unshaken. ‘For the last time, he isn’t here. Now leave.’
“‘Where is he, Herr Morgenstern?’
“My father shrugged. ‘I believe it to be an unsolved mystery.’
“There was a pause, and then the agent said, ‘Oh, a mystery? Then maybe Holstrum’s wife will solve the mystery for us. Hmm? That would be Grethe Holstrum, also known as Grethe Morgenstern. Your daughter, I believe? She is the wife of Lukas Holstrum.’ He uttered a few short chuckles and then shouted over my father’s shoulder, ‘Grethe Holstrum! Grethe Morgenstern! Whatever your name is now, Kommen sie, mach schnell!’
“Grethe and I were locked in a hug, both of us scared to death, but our father was a rock. He put his hand on the door, said, ‘Go back to Germany and harass your own citizens. You are in Denmark!’ And then he slammed the door in the face of the agent. From out in the hall, the man cursed my father and shouted, ‘You will pay for this insolence.’ Before leaving, he called from the hallway in a mocking, singsong tone, ‘Oh, Grethe Holstrum, Grethe Holstrum, you are in there, and we know you are, and we are waiting for you. You and Lukas. Mr. and Mrs. Holstrum. Believe me, it is only a matter of time.’
“My father came to us and shut the bedroom door. Grethe was a mess; she was shaking and clenching her fists. She was an amalgam of rage and fright. He sat next to her on the bed and she leaned over to cry on his shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, sweetheart, they are gone now. They’re just blowhards. There’s nothing to be afraid of.’
“She looked up. ‘You slammed the door in his face.’
“He nodded. ‘I know, didn’t you love it? I’m sure I’ll hear about it later. I’ll get a memo on keeping up good relations with our German partners.’
“‘They threatened me,’ Grethe said. ‘They said they are waiting for me. I thought the Germans were supposed to leave Danish citizens alone.’
“‘They are, but intimidations like this are due to Dr. Best,’ my father replied. ‘Those men were right about one thing; Best was sent here to tighten the noose. That is why we see a much larger Gestapo presence. Hundreds of agents are being sent here.’
“‘It seems like they’re so much more aggressive,’ Grethe said. ‘The Gestapo didn’t use to confront Danish people. They just skulked around spying on us and making notes.’
“‘You’re right. Von Renthe-Fink was a diplomat. He tried to solve problems through negotiation, always abiding by the Cooperation Agreement. Berlin thought he was too lenient. I also believe that the present clampdown is due to the recent failure of the German military. They have suffered critical losses in North Africa, and their attempt to take Stalingrad failed with great loss of life—a huge embarrassment for Hitler and his so-called unconquerable army. Allied bombs are now falling on Cologne and northern Germany. Many believe the war is turning. Berlin is scrambling to keep the lid on a boiling pot, and now they are witnessing an increase in Danish resistance. The acts of sabotage have angered Himmler and the German high command, and then, last November, King Christian’s telegram infuriated Hitler. That was the last straw.’
“Grethe began to cry. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘but this is all too much for me right now. I can feel this baby coming and I’m scared. I need my husband and he’s missing. The Gestapo is looking for him and now they want me as well. If I go to the hospital to have my baby, they’ll arrest me.’
“My father shook his head and pulled Grethe close to his chest. ‘No, honey, they won’t. They don’t have that authority. When that baby decides the time is right, I’ll go with you to the hospital. They won’t dare touch us. That would be a clear violation of the status quo, and Werner Best is not about to cause a diplomatic incident. I know that for a fact.’”
Catherine interrupts Britta’s narrative. “Was that a fact? Was the Gestapo powerless to do anything in Denmark other than investigate and call the police?”
Britta’s partial shrug confirms Catherine’s skepticism. “Generally speaking, it was a fact. Legally, my father was correct; the Gestapo did not have legal authority to arrest Danish citizens or enforce the internal laws. But nothing could be certain during those days. The terms ‘authority’ and ‘power’ became more ambiguous as 1943 progressed. It was a year in which everything was turned upside down in Denmark. As the resistance activities increased, Werner Best began to employ the Gestapo as he did in Germany; as a secret police force dispatched to intimidate, infiltrate and arrest anyone determined to be a threat to Germany’s military or policy interests. Except, in Denmark the Gestapo was not legally authorized to arrest.
“‘On those occasions when the Gestapo went too far and Best was chastised by the Danish Parliament, he would merely say that in his judgment, the matter was not internal but one with international implications,’ my father explained. ‘Best would point to the Cooperation Agreement and say that it was Germany’s duty to protect Denmark from foreign enemies and the resistance movement was an arm of the foreign governments. On one occasion he told the Parliament that the acts of sabotage weakened Germany’s ability to protect Denmark from a British invasion. And that was how he justified sending twelve armed Gestapo agents to arrest or kill the members of the Holger Club.’
“Grethe wondered how my father knew so much inside information. How could he know what Berlin’s instructions were to Dr. Best? My father smiled one of those ‘I-know-but-I-can’t-tell-you’ smiles. He said, ‘Oh, let’s just say your father is a respected diplomat who keeps his eyes and ears open. Even under the most adverse conditions, there are back channels for diplomats, and we keep them open.’
“Grethe and I had long suspected that our father had established covert alliances with German diplomats. There were times when he would have to step away and take a furtive phone call. If my mother asked who it was, he would brush it off and say it was nothing. ‘Folketing business,’ he would say. But my father’s body language would give him away. We knew that his telephone calls and secret meetings had something to do with the Germans and that he was receiving inside information from someone highly placed. What we didn’t know at the time was that his back channel was the German naval attaché Georg Duckwitz. That relationship would later become pivotal.
“Sitting there that night in Grethe’s room, with so much tension in the air, I felt the need to lift my sister’s spirits. She was about to have a baby and her nerves were frayed. To my way of thinking, it was my job to prevent any negative vibrations from passing through her umbilical cord into my little niece or nephew. ‘Let’s all make a vow to stay positive,’ I said. Grethe looked at me like I was crazy. ‘Really, Britta?’ she said.
“‘Look on the bright side,’ I said. ‘The Gestapo is looking for Lukas and that has to mean he’s alive and safe somewhere. And maybe Lukas also knows they’re looking for him, and that’s why he hasn’t come home or contacted anyone.’
“My father picked up on it. ‘I think Britta makes a good point,’ he said. ‘We have to believe that Lukas is still alive. I haven’t heard differently, and apparently, neither has the Gestapo. So, let’s all keep positive thoughts.’
“I shot a sister-love smile at Grethe, and she nodded back. We were always a pair, tightly connected. We locked little fingers and we made a pact. We would stay positive and calm; no negative thoughts would be allowed. Ever. That pact lasted for a few hours, or until her contractions started in earnest. By then, calm was out the window. Add to that, she needed to go to the hospital, but she was afraid to leave the house. She was sure the Gestapo was waiting for her, standing under a lamppost, smoking cigarettes, like they did in the movies. My father, as always, saved the day. He dismissed any thoughts that the Gestapo were waiting, but just to be on the safe side, he called his friend, the Copenhagen chief of police, and he and Grethe rode to the hospital in the backseat of the chief’s police car, lights flashing.”
“Did she have her baby that night?” Emma asks.
“The next morning. A healthy baby girl.”
Emma’s face lights up. “What did Aunt Grethe name her?”
Britta pauses for a moment, gives a little bite on her bottom lip, looks directly into Emma’s eyes and says, “That beautiful baby was named Isabel Holstrum.”
When Emma hears that, her expression freezes. “That was my mother’s name,” she says, then furrows her brow. “But before she married Charles Fisher, her name was Isabel Stein, not Holstrum. Are you telling me that Grethe’s baby was actually my mother? Isabel Holstrum became Isabel Stein? Your name, Bubbe? And Grethe Morgenstern Holstrum, a woman I never knew, was really my grandmother? And you are…?”
“It’s a long story, sweetheart. Be patient.”