| Thus my family, together
with hundreds of other Norwegian families, was evicted from
their home. We were ordered leave the house and take with
us only our own clothes. Everything else had to be left
behind. The actual eviction however, was somewhat flexible
– we had to be out of the house by a certain date
in January 1942. One day we were visited by two policemen
who took an accurate inventory of the contents of the house.
This was to ensure that none of the confiscated property
could be spirited away. In spite of this, we looked upon
the two policemen as ‘good Norwegians’ because
a few weeks earlier when they had been taking inventory
at my Aunts, one of them, almost casually, remarked that
they would be visiting our house at Slemdal within a couple
of weeks. With the help of good neighbours Brita and Christian
Holmen from Østre Holmen Farm, we used these weeks
well. One dark night they sent a truck and several strong
men who quickly removed the furniture and other items of
sentimental value that Mother preferred not to lose. I got
to ride in the truck back to the farm where the load was
stowed away in a garage. The garage stands there to this
day.
The Germans expected that the house would
be ‘fully furnished’ so the empty spaces left
by the removed items had to be filled. From cellar and attic
long forgotten heirlooms were dusted off and put into service
once again. On the other hand, our books had only been registered
as a linear measure of books, and not how many individual
books. Neighbours and friends came with piles of unbound
manuscripts and inexpensive novels to replace the books
we cherished and wished to keep. I remember that only Hamsun’s
collected works were left behind – with one exception
– we hadn’t the heart to leave behind ‘Growth
of the Soil’, which had earned him his Nobel Prize.
After the eviction we had no place to live.
My sister who was three, and I, five years older, lived
in a children’s home from January to May. Then we
were able to rent a house in Hedmark. For the rest of the
war our home was occupied by two women. As far as we know
they were married to Norwegians who had volunteered to join
the Norwegian Brigade on the Eastern Front. One day a neighbour
noticed one of the women crying in the garden. The atmosphere
of suspicion, mistrust, and fear that prevailed during the
war made it impossible for her to offer sympathy or to enquire
about causes. Many Norwegian volunteers died in the cruel
climate on the Eastern Front - perhaps her husband was one
of them?
We got the house back again in May 1945.
There were only minor damages but the house was completely
empty. Except for an impressive discovery in the cellar;
a 5 x 2 foot pile of Champagne bottles. When we moved in
however, the bottles had disappeared. Perhaps one of
the women had kept a key and returned for
the bottles; perhaps the workmen who had repaired the damages
fell for temptation? Never mind, it was a minor detail in
the glorious days of 1945.
We soon discovered that all confiscated
furniture had been stored at a warehouse in Oslo. Germans
and their Norwegian sympathisers could come and take what
they wanted for their own use. With typical German thoroughness
each item was recorded: where it came from and the name
and address of the person who took it away. A few ledgers
had been hurriedly burnt in May 1945 but otherwise the records
were complete. Thus we were able to go on a ‘treasure
hunt’ during the summer months. My parents came to
one apartment in Bygdø Allé but the lady refused
to let them in. Through a window they saw one of their sofas
so they forced their way in and took it back to its rightful
home. On one occasion I accompanied them to a farm outside
Oslo where we found one of our rocking chairs – badly
damaged. At this farm we saw a huge, almost completely built,
new barn. The locals told us that during the war, families
of the men who fought for the Germans on the Eastern Front
were given material to repair or construct new buildings.
Most of the other houses and farm buildings were allowed
to fall into disrepair.
The records showed that our especially attractive
dining room table had ended up in the home of the Quislings
at “Gimle.” Maria Quisling was said to have
‘good taste’ so we felt honoured. I went with
my parents to Gimle and though we went through all the rooms
there was no sign of our table. I particularly remember
the large, Rococo-furnished room where Maria held her tea
parties. Some beautiful Goblin tapestries also made a big
impression on me. Finally we found our table – in
the guard-house, badly damaged but restorable. What a letdown,
we had to laugh.
We received a small amount of money as compensation
for the furnishings that had disappeared. Our walls
were bare so we used the money to buy two paintings at the
Autumn Exhibition in 1945.
Else og Geoff Ward
Asker 13. sept 2006
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