The passage across the Øresund, the body of water that separates the Danish peninsula from Sweden, is, at its narrowest, about the same distance as Horseshoe Bay to Bowen Island. But the waters can be treacherous – especially when it’s 1943 and the waters are swarming with Gestapo Kriegsmarine boats. Yet, for two weeks at the beginning of October 1943, 7,000 Danish Jews – about 95% of Danish Jewry (including the wonderful Victor Borge) – were safely transported across the Øresund in small fishing boats to the “sacred soil” of neutral Sweden.
In his new book, A Light in the Northern Sea: Denmark’s Incredible Rescue of Their Jewish Citizens During WWII, Tim Brady, author of the popular story of the Dutch Resistance Three Ordinary Girls, uses his excellent narrative skills to outline in detail how Danish Jews were warned about Nazi deportation plans, how they escaped and how they were treated when they arrived in Sweden.
Brady has described himself as a storyteller, rather than as a professional historian, but he has done his research and he tells this story in great detail. As he did with Three Ordinary Girls, Brady brings history alive with the telling of stories through the eyes of participants, rather than simply cold facts. The eyes here are, for the most part, those of the remarkable Dutch resistance fighter Jurgen Kieler, whose recently published memoirs (encouraged by Elie Wiesel) would not have been available to earlier rescue historians.
Readers might be surprised that the “light in the northern sea” of the title refers to welcoming Sweden, not, as you might expect, given the book’s subtitle, Denmark. But, as Brady is quick to point out, the Swedish “light” was not always bright – before, and early in the war, Sweden had demanded that Germany mark the passports of Jewish emigrés with a “J” so they could be more easily refused, and Sweden refused potential Jewish immigrants who were not financially independent.
However, as Brady notes, largely due to the enormously influential intercession of the great Danish Nobelist Niels Bohr (a dedicated Nazi-hater) with the Swedish government, Sweden’s position regarding the Jewish immigrants changed radically by October 1943, when it decided to admit all 7,200 Jews fleeing the recently occupying Nazis in Denmark.
Swedes almost universally opened their homes to the Danish Jews. The refugees were also made to feel comfortable in churches, community centres, hotels and schools, as welfare agencies constructed camps, provided clothing and household items, and helped them find employment. Also, as Brady notes, during the post-rescue months of the Danish resistance, Sweden provided a 25 million kroner (about $70 million in today’s dollars) credit to help Denmark train and organize the Danish Brigade revolutionary group.
Interestingly, the “rescue of Denmark’s Jewish citizens” referred to in the book’s subtitle has a double reference for Brady. On the one hand, there is the escape across the Øresund. But there is a second “rescue” described in the ending chapters of the book. These chapters deal with the 1943-45 undertakings of the Danish resistance, including detailed accounts of both their successful and non-successful sabotage activities. However, most of these Danish fighters were ultimately captured, and Brady carefully narrates their terrible experiences in German concentration camps. But, once again, the Danish Jews were “rescued.” Thanks to a coordinated effort of the Swedish Red Cross and the Danish government, most of the Danish concentration camp prisoners were returned to Denmark in the remarkable “White Bus Rescue” that was made possible in March 1945 by negotiations instigated between the Swedish diplomat Folke Bernadotte and Heinrich Himmler, which Brady describes at the end of his book.
When put into historical perspective, as Brady is careful to do, the rescue of 95% of Danish Jewry, while utterly unique in Europe, was not completely surprising. At no time had Danish Jews been required to wear a yellow star. Moreover, King Christian X, while greeting his Danish subjects, would never salute the occupying Nazis, and would habitually visit Denmark’s Great Synagogue on Rosh Hashanah. (King Christian, in contradiction to popular myth, never wore the yellow star – but he would later be placed under house arrest.) As well, Jews lived comfortably in Copenhagen; for 100 years, they had enjoyed full human rights and become very active in arts, politics and philanthropy. For these reasons, as Brady explains, and also because the Danish population was, in his words, “peculiarly democratic,” Germany hesitated to “twist the arms of Denmark regarding its Jewish problem” (no less was Denmark anxious to “poke the Third Reich bear,” as Brady puts it).
But how did the Danish Jews know about the Nazis’ plans to deport them? To answer this question, Brady emphasizes the courageous actions of Nazi diplomat Georg Duckwitz, whom history should celebrate as a kind of Raoul Wallenberg- or Oskar Schindler-type figure. With his life on the line, Duckwitz tipped off Danish authorities when, in September 1943, the Nazis decided to solve the Danish “Jewish problem” in the way history shows they “solved” other problems. Duckwitz also, after tipping off Danish authorities, courageously traveled to Stockholm to tell Sweden’s prime minister about the impending roundup of Danish Jews.
As a result of Duckwitz’s actions, Danes were warned in time of the impending roundup and, when the Gestapo came calling, there was no one home. Almost all (except the very ill and disabled who did end up deported) were in neighbours’ homes or schools, churches, hospitals or safe houses, preparing for their trip to Sweden.
Once the fishing boats were assembled, the flight to Sweden began in earnest. The boats were usually crammed; children and babies were usually sedated; and the passage was often rough, as high winds would often raise waves four to six metres high.
As an aside, in 1989, the annual Holocaust Symposium at the University of British Columbia arranged by the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre focused on the Danish rescue. The speakers were a Danish Jewish woman who was rescued and a Danish fisherman who was among the rescuers. In the Q&A portion of their presentation, the fisherman admitted that he and the other rescuers charged as much as 1,000 kroner ($5,000 in today’s Canadian money) per “Jewish ticket.” Brady notes this, but finds it “understandable,” since the fishermen’s livelihood was at stake in crossing the Gestapo-infested Øresund.
All in all, the Danish rescue, as Brady presents it, is truly a remarkable story – and a welcome reminder that, even in the roughest seas and at the darkest times, the basic light of humanity can shine brightly.
Graham Forst, PhD, taught literature and philosophy at Capilano University until his retirement and now teaches in the continuing education department at Simon Fraser University. From 1975 to 2010, he co-chaired the symposium committee of the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre.
