The story of Helge Welling
When World War II broke out in 1939, I was ten years old. Early one morning in April 1940, the drone of low-flying German airplanes woke us up. They dropped leaflets saying Germany would save Denmark from British occupation.
We listened to the radio until it was time to go to school. Danish songs and serious music were interrupted by news that the German invasion had begun. Both German and Danish soldiers had been killed at the border.
At school, our teacher listened to the radio. We sang a very beautiful Danish song––Morgendug der sagte bævrer i den lune vind (Morning dew that softly quivers in the warm wind)––and then another song, Bladet i bogen sig vender (The leaf in the book turns). He said it was serious but in the last invasion, Denmark had driven the Germans out.
Then he talked about how fate changes just like the leaf in the book. And how the song said that each time things go badly for Denmark, the leaf in the book softly turns.
Then he heard Denmark had capitulated and that our troops would be disbanded. He said soldiers returning from the border would pass our school. We could wave to them from the crossroads, then go home. If we saw any German soldiers, we should ignore them.
We went to the crossroads. It was a sunny morning but a snowdrift remained. Strange––the snow usually melted by March. We stood there, waiting. Then they came. Danish army trucks with cannons, one after the other. We waved. When they had passed, we started for home.
Halfway home, a motorcycle with two German soldiers approached. We stood at the side of the road, looking the other way until they were gone. Then we went home.
Adapted from the 2007 Heritage Book,with permission from the Federation of Danish Associations in Canada
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