On October 17, we crossed the Storstrøm Bridge again, this time to Nykøbing, where there was a large meeting and a march through the town. In the evening, when we were heading home, the Communists attempted to smash the windows of the cars.
In May 1939, there was a meeting in Fakse, and it was very hot that day. All the young people wore no jacket over their brown shirts. Police Assistant Elverdam did not quite approve of this and wanted our autographs, but when the meeting was about to begin, Merchant Jørgensen and he agreed that the police should return with a photographer at 9 PM, when the meeting was over.
In the meantime, he alerted Police Chief Vagn Bro, who arrived immediately. However, when the meeting ended, the police came with a local photographer, and Jørgensen announced from the speaker’s platform that the young people should come up onto the stage, where the police now wanted a photograph of all of us.
“I’m taking off my shirt,” said Ha??
“We are too!” all the rest of us exclaimed.
It turned out to be a good photograph. I sold approximately 50 copies of it in the period afterward.
On June 17 and 18, 1939, we attended the national rally in Kolding. It was the largest one we had ever had. As we marched through the town, you could read the question on people’s faces: Are they really that many? It was two magnificent days.
Fourteen days later, we were in Holbæk, where I nearly got beaten up—seriously. I was alone, pressed up against a shop window, with about 150 Reds surrounding me, but four of my comrades came to my aid and got me free.
In the middle of July, we had a large meeting in Lyngby Square, where things nearly turned really ugly…
On August 25, 1939—the last Sunday before the war broke out—we had a good meeting in Nakskov. We had rented a livestock truck from Roskilde with a tarpaulin over it, and in it we traveled to the South Sea Islands, but had to stop some distance outside the town, after which 22 of us marched through the red Nakskov to the meeting place.
Now I must go back a little again.
On Whit Monday, Danish National Socialists were invited to the Swedes’ national rally in Malmö, and I was given a packed lunch and set off. It was a splendid day, and because the Swedes wore black boots, riding breeches, blue shirts, and “webbing,” we, who wore brown shirts, were regarded as Germans by the uninformed bystanders.