BRITTA IS IN a sitting position when Emma and Catherine enter her hospital room. Her tray of food has been pushed to the side. Remnants of scrambled eggs remain on the plate along with two pieces of dried toast, though the corner of one has been nibbled. The two small pancakes, packaged syrup, black currant jelly and orange juice are untouched. The little silver pot of coffee is empty.
“Good morning, Bubbe,” Emma chirps brightly. “You’re looking good today.”
Britta scoffs. “I look like the wrath of God. My hair is a dreadful mess.”
Emma chuckles, cuts a piece of pancake, dips it in the syrup and tenders it to her grandmother. In return, she gets a look that says, “Absolutely not.” Emma presses on. She waves the fork back and forth in front of Britta’s face. “C’mon, Bubbe, just one bite. Here comes the choo-choo train.”
Britta opens her mouth, accepts the forkful and makes a face. “I need more coffee,” she says. “And be ready to take your notes.
“As the summer of 1943 progressed, so did the Danish resistance. The movement, which had started with the youth clubs, like the Holger Club, now reached a cross-section of Danish society. Food shortages, especially in fruits, vegetables and paper products, became commonplace. One could never count on her local grocery store having what she needed. Textiles, bicycle tires, nylons, sewing machines were scarce. Danes resented the imposition and the hardship caused by the shortages. After all, these hardships were foisted upon us and we were not a country at war.
“A large plant, manufacturing airplane parts for the Luftwaffe, was burned to the ground and the British phrase ‘Do it well; Do it now’ was painted on the charred beams. Wildcat strikes popped up in several cities where plants, formerly producing consumer products, were filling orders for Germany. Factory workers resented the increased German surveillance. The Gestapo seemed to be everywhere. They didn’t have the authority to arrest, but they would urge Danish policemen to randomly arrest Danish citizens on suspicion of one thing or another.
“Toward the end of July, my father’s friend Stefan Munsk and his wife, Rena, once again joined us for dinner. You may remember, Stefan was a Danish envoy to Berlin and he always seemed to have inside information, but because of the civil unrest that summer he had been recalled. As a courtesy to my mother and Rena, there was a general agreement not to discuss politics at the dinner table. However, when the dinner was finished, my father and Stefan retired to the living room for brandy and cigars, and the debates began. My father was in a good mood. ‘It appears that the mighty Third Reich is coming apart at the seams, fraying at the edges, as it were,’ Papa said. ‘The Reich is back on its heels: Russia, North Africa, the Atlantic and,’ he paused, took a sip of brandy and said with a grin, ‘and of course, here in Denmark.’
“‘Perhaps,’ Stefan said as he lit his cigar, ‘but make no mistake; Germany owns Europe. The army is still strong, the country is wealthy and Hitler is ruthless. Denmark would be well-advised not to test his resolve. Especially this month.’
“‘This month? What do you know that you are not telling us, Stefan? Who have you been talking to?’
“‘Hmm,’ he said as he took a draw of his cigar, ‘only to Hermann von Hanneken, general of the German infantry, proud wearer of the German Cross of Gold for repeated acts of bravery, and now serving as supreme commander of German land forces in Denmark.’
“‘You’ve spoken to General von Hanneken?’
“Stefan, pointing his cigar for emphasis, said with a tinge of self-importance, ‘I have. He is pushing for all Danish forces to be disarmed. He doesn’t trust us, can you imagine? I was there when he said to Best, ‘Look at the violence, the rise in criminal sabotage, and you Werner are unable to control it. If the Allies were to land in Denmark tomorrow, could we trust the Danish forces to honor the Cooperation Agreement?’
“My father shrugged. ‘Just talk.’
“‘No, Joseph, it’s gone further than that. Von Hanneken has drafted plans for disarming our army and he wants our navy disarmed as well. He hopes to implement his plans in September.’
“My father was shocked. ‘I thought Best was in charge.’
“Stefan shrugged. ‘They are in conflict, but Best does have an ally. Wurmbach is also opposed to von Hanneken’s plan.’
“‘Are we talking about Vice Admiral Wurmbach?’
“Stefan chuckled. ‘The senior German naval officer in Denmark. Do you know any other Wurmbachs?’
“That comment made my father laugh and the two of them refilled their brandy snifters. At that point, Lukas entered the room. ‘Join us,’ my father said, and he offered Lukas a brandy. Stefan continued, ‘Wurmbach argues against taking over the Danish navy at this time. He says that the Danish navy is cooperative and performing duties that the German navy would otherwise have to assume. Both Best and Wurmbach believe that this so-called Danish unrest is overblown. Just isolated incidents here or there, a smattering of malcontents, and not a coordinated movement at all. And to tell the truth, I am inclined to agree with them. You must admit that true civil unrest would be an act of national suicide. Germany can stomp its big black boot on us on a moment’s whim. I think our people realize this. The Danish people want to cooperate.’
“My father’s eyebrows lifted. ‘Stefan, you’ve been out of the country for some time, you may be a little out of touch with what the Danish people want. What do you think, Lukas? Is Danish unrest overblown?’
“‘No,’ Lukas said. ‘If anything, it’s understated. Our people are supportive of partisan activities and it is inevitable that acts of sabotage will only increase as the occupation continues. The Danish people are fed up with Germany and they want them to leave. They want to be neutral and run their own lives like they have done in every other European war. Take my word for it, there will be more explosions, more fires, more damage.’
“‘Really,’ Stefan said with a smile, ‘and how would you know this, young man? Are you a member of one of these partisan groups?’
“Lukas tapped his wheelchair. ‘No sir, I’m hardly in any condition to go running around with those loyalists. I just hear things, you know. I work in a bookstore and people come in, browse the books, and they talk. From what I hear, there is general dissatisfaction with the occupying forces and there is strong support for the loyalist partisans. I predict there will be hundreds of acts of sabotage before this occupation is over. Only from what I hear, of course.’
“‘Well,’ Stefan said, ‘we know that it’s common for eggheads and revolutionary types to hang out in bookstores, don’t we? I hope you’re wrong, because if there are hundreds of acts of sabotage, the hawks in Berlin will prevail and there will be serious reprisals brought upon the Danish populace.’
“As it turned out, both Lukas and Stefan were correct. There were other acts of sabotage, followed by swift reprisals. On July 28, just a few weeks after our dinner, a disenchanted Danish dockworker set an explosive device and blew up a German freighter in the Odense harbor. The Germans had wanted to guard that ship, but were persuaded to allow the Danish dockworkers to manage their harbor. That changed after the explosion. Admiral Wurmbach quietly began to formulate his plans to take over and disarm the Danish navy.
“German reprisals intensified. Random arrests increased. There were unexplained murders of clergy, poets and writers. As a consequence, Danish workers rebelled. They went out on strike. There were demonstrations in the streets of several towns. Acts of sabotage happened in broad daylight. There was a general air of revolt, and it all led up to the crisis at the end of August.”
Britta’s nurse returns to the room, checks the monitor and her IV, and says, “Mrs. Stein needs medical attention right now. Her doctor is coming in a few minutes. I think we should give her some time to rest, don’t you?”
Emma and Catherine gather their things to leave. Britta says, “Wait. Catherine, please, may I have a minute?” She motions for Catherine to come closer. “Emma, would you give me a moment alone with Catherine, please?”
Emma steps into the hall, and Catherine moves up to the head of the bed. Britta whispers, “Are you going to court tomorrow?” Catherine nods. “Then you must do whatever it takes to get the case to trial at the earliest possible date. Do not object to a motion to expedite.”
“It’s not that simple,” Catherine says. “The judge undoubtedly has other cases scheduled for trial. Sparks has the right to take depositions, subpoena witnesses, file motions. Besides, I have to tell you that Emma is diametrically opposed to advancing the case for trial until you have completely recovered and are healthy enough to sit through what is bound to be a grueling trial.”
“There is a lot that Emma doesn’t know. My condition is worse than she thinks. I’ve tried to hide it from her.”
“She knows more than you think, Britta. She’s very perceptive. Let me ask you, given your condition, why risk your health by proceeding with a trial? Henryks isn’t worth it. What does it matter if he gets inducted into some make-believe hall of fame?”
“It matters to me. When I finish my story, you’ll understand why. I never knew that Ole Hendricksen survived the war. I surely didn’t know that he lived in Chicago. Not until I saw the article in the Tribune. I need to finish what I started, Catherine. Most importantly, Emma needs to know about her mother and the family from which she is descended. One needs to know and appreciate her heritage. And Hendricksen needs to pay for what he did to us. Trust me, he’s a worm, and he’ll crumble in a trial.”
“He won’t crumble unless I have the evidence to confront him. So far, we’re not there. I have to file our defenses tomorrow, I can fill in the blanks later, but I have to have the outline headings. What can I accuse him of?”
Britta nods. “He collaborated with the Gestapo to inform on members of the resistance. He betrayed Jewish families to the Nazis. He and his friends were members of counter-resistance groups. During the exodus, he acted to prevent Jews from escaping.”
Catherine writes down the points and says, “What evidence will we have in support of those accusations?”
“My testimony,” Britta says firmly with a raised chin. “And the admissions you can elicit from Hendricksen. And whatever your husband can bring us from Denmark. Most of all, we have your skill as a lawyer.”
Catherine closes her notebook. “Right,” she says softly.
Britta’s lips tighten. “I hold him responsible for what happened to my family, and he will pay dearly with the unmasking of his fraudulent reputation. We will win this lawsuit because it is just.”
Catherine nods her head; she understands. “When you painted Hendricksen’s walls, you knew this would be the consequence. You expected him to sue you, didn’t you? You actually wanted this lawsuit.”
“He had to stand trial for what he did. A public trial and condemnation. I certainly couldn’t bring a suit against him for being a Nazi collaborator seventy years ago, could I? He had to be the one to bring the suit, and he took the bait.”
“Yes, he did. To get him into a public courtroom and on the television every night, he had to sue you, and you had to raise his nefarious conduct in an affirmative defense. All in all, that was brilliant.”
“So, my young friend, he will be tried, and he will be judged. It is his just reward. And I need to be there to see it. Don’t object to a motion to expedite.” She reaches out for Catherine’s hand. “And my granddaughter must know her family’s story. She has a right to know on whose shoulders she stands. It will help to define her life.”
Catherine has a lump in her throat. “What if all this proves too strenuous for you, Britta? You’re in a hospital now. What if you succumb to the…? How will Emma know her story then?”
“In the top drawer of my bedside table, there’s a notebook. I have written it all out. Everything that happened.”
The doctor enters the room, looks kindly at Catherine and tips his head toward the door. Britta squeezes Catherine’s hand. “Our little secret,” Britta says.
“LIAM, THIS WAS a very hard day for me. Britta is more ill than we believed. I hope you have something good to tell me.”
“I love you; how’s that?”
Catherine chuckles. “It’s perfect. I was hoping for something a little more, but that will do.”
“Are you going to court tomorrow?”
“Yes, I am. Our affirmative defense is due and I’m going to file it in open court.”
“What are you going to say?”
“I am going to allege that Ole was a member of a Nazi-sponsored counterinsurgency group—the Blue Shirts aka the Blue Storm—that he personally informed on resistance fighters causing the arrest and death of partisans, that he informed on Jewish families and that he worked for a company that manufactured products for the Germans.”
“Well, as to the products, you’re on solid ground. They were ball bearings and turrets used in German Panzer tanks. That’s what the Simmons Manufacturing Company made and shipped. I don’t have the employee records, but I think you can get Ole to admit he worked for Simmons, and they made war machinery to Nazi specifications. As to the assertions about the Blue Shirts and the betrayal, we have no corroborative proof—it’s all hearsay.”
“Hell, Liam, the whole damn thing is hearsay, but I can allege hearsay. If, at the end of the day, that’s all I have, it will be stricken, but I can allege it in my affirmative defense. It will get us past tomorrow. Sparks doesn’t know what evidence I have. Besides, there are exceptions to the hearsay rule. Ole could confess. Britta says he will crumble under cross-examination and maybe he will. Maybe he’ll blunder into making admissions. The ball bearings and turrets will be useful. Do you have proof of that?”
“I do, but I have more. I’m working on a couple of leads, I can’t say for sure that they will pan out, but let’s go ahead and allege them anyway. Allege that Hendricksen was part of a group of Nazi sympathizers that tried to sabotage the Jews’ escape in October 1943.”
“Liam, Ole has publicly stated that he and his father helped to transport Jews to safety. He has a picture of the boat on his tavern wall. The Perlie B.”
“I have a meeting with the harbormaster tomorrow. If he confirms my suspicions, he’ll tell me that the boat belonged to someone else. And I have a theory about who it belonged to. If I’m right, it’s a blockbuster. It ties in with Ole’s membership in Nazi-sponsored organizations and also to the sabotage of Jewish rescue operations. I could be wrong, but go ahead and allege them anyway. Worse comes to worst, you won’t be able to prove them, but my gut tells me I’m right. By the way, I was able to obtain Ole Hendricksen’s birth certificate with the names of his mother and father, just in case he says that he’s Ole Henryks and not Ole Hendricksen.”
“Great work.”
“Do me a favor, if you can. The night Sparks threw that big shindig for Henryks at The Melancholy Dane, Ole Appreciation Night, there were several reporters, and they made video recordings. Would you see if you could get a copy?”
“Sure. What do you have in mind?”
“I’ll tell you when I get back.”