Queen Mary’s Wartime Escapades

As the rumours of war intensified in the first days of September, 1939, Queen Mary was holidaying at the royal family’s Norfolk estate at Sandringham, close to the ancient market town of King’s Lynn. On the morning that war with Germany was declared, 3 September, the Queen was listening to a radio broadcast by the Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain, on the vicar’s radio in her stall at the small estate church of St Mary Magdalene. Soon thereafter, the local parishioners were temporarily diverted from their devotions by the drone of the local air raid siren. This was a false alarm, being merely a test of the system. Presumably, the Queen Dowager spent the rest of what remained of that first Sunday of wartime in a state of nervous anticipation.

In the early hours of 4 September, Queen Mary was roused from her sleep by another ‘alarm.’ She and her detective Green and her grandchildren Prince Edward and Princess Alexandra of Kent (the children of Prince George, the Duke of Kent and his wife Marina, who were temporarily under her care) all rushed to the basement, where they sat stoically until the ‘all clear’ was sounded at 3.30 am. Although Mary returned to her bed, she remained wide-awake till morning.

Indeed, by 10am the Queen Dowager and her large entourage of staff had already packed their cases and departed ‘the Big House’, under a pre-arranged plan, for an even grander edifice, Badminton House, in rural Gloucestershire. This was the home of the Duke of Beaufort (‘Master’) and his wife, Mary, who was a niece of Queen Mary. As the Duke had already joined his Regiment, it was Mary Beaufort who was faced with the daunting prospect of greeting her royal aunt and her staff of around fifty, along with seventy pieces of the Queen’s luggage.

Queen Mary-who had lunched en route at the Northamptonshire home of Lord and Lady Spencer at Althorp-quickly selected a first-floor bedroom, with a splendid view over across the park, together with an adjacent sitting room and bathroom. For her private dining room, she made use of the so-called Oak Room, the main feature of which was its dark, heavy Jacobean panelling. Yet, even this generous accommodation was deemed insufficient, so she commandeered a large dining-room to serve as a formal drawing room for receiving important guests. To protect her royal personage, four despatch riders were on constant call to lead the way to safety in case of a sudden attack or a German invasion. They were augmented by 120 men of the local Gloucestershire Regiment who were quartered in the old stables. Of course, Inspector George Gardner, the Queen’s personal police protection officer, was also on hand.

It must be said that the Queen Dowager never wanted to go to the country. She would far preferred to have remained at Marlborough House, but the King persuaded his mother that if she were to remain in London, he would be constantly fretting over her wellbeing. To combat her initial restlessness and feelings of uselessness, ‘Bertie’ ensured that Mary should receive regular news summaries from the Foreign Office. These were sent down by motorbike courier in official red leather dispatch boxes. Another weapon to combat country boredom was Queen Mary’s weekly train visits up to London, during which she sometimes lunched with the King and Queen at Buckingham Palace and visited her favourite shops. Filled with purpose, the Dowager was up with the lark to catch the 8.28 train from nearby Chippenham. The journey took two hours. Her only complaint was that the blackout requirements, on the evening return trip, hampered her ability to read.

Looking out of her bedroom window one day, Queen Mary espied a whole wall of the house covered in ivy ‘of 50 years standing.’ She had always hated the plant with a vengeance, believing that it was destructive to a building’s stone work. Some of the park’s trees were also covered in the dastardly plant. Soon, her Equerry, Sir John Coke, was pressed into joining his mistress for a morning of clearing ivy. This ‘Ivy Squad’ was eventually augmented by the enrolment of Her Majesty’s duty Lady-in-Waiting and Private Secretary, aided by any visiting guests. Given the old Queen’s zeal, it is not surprising that Badminton’s considerable stock of Ivy was quickly exhausted.

Undeterred, by the autumn of 1940, Queen Mary turned her attention, most afternoons, to the clearance of areas of the local woodlands. A ‘Wooding Squad’ was established, mainly composed of the four dispatch riders and their royal charge. As Mary now rarely went to London due to the German bombing campaign or ‘Blitz’ (during which most of Marlborough House’s windows were blown-out, as were many of the interior doors), this diversion proved particularly welcome. The Queen was a thoughtful ‘employer’ and happily passed round cigarettes to her workers during their breaktime from chopping and sawing, always ensuring, of course, to have one herself. Mary also took great pains to find out the birthdays of her ‘wooders’, so that she could give them a small gift.

However, the Dowager Queen’s efforts at undertaking a salvage campaign to collect scrap iron for the war effort proved less successful. Her enthusiasm often led her into ‘salvaging’ the local farmers’ perfectly serviceable field implements which had to be discreetly returned to them at a later date. Yet, her dedication to the task is evidence that her patriotic heart was in the right place. Mary’s patriotism was also apparent in her insistence on obeying the strict rationing rules. Many was the evening that a dinner guest left her table hungry after consuming only half a snipe. By contrast, the Queen loved to fill her rooms with exuberant displays of geraniums and orchids, the latter often sourced (doubtless at great expense) from neighbouring nursery gardens.

Another outlet for Queen Mary’s talents was to undertake a varied array of official engagements in the locality, be it visiting a munitions factory or a hospital or a woollen mill or a group of evacuees from London. Although Her Majesty’s movements were meant to shrouded in secrecy, on a visit to a spitfire production factory at Trowbridge, one of the workers let the secret slip, so a group of children were there to greet her as she alighted from her old green Daimler saloon ‘prim as always’ with her trademark rolled-up umbrella in one hand. Sometimes, on her outings, Mary would come across members of the military plodding along the road and she soon took to offering them lifts. Many were unaware of who this kind and inquisitive old lady was, particularly in the case of foreign combatants.

For relaxation the Queen Dowager often visited antique shops in nearby Bath. She also enjoyed embroidery (or ‘stitchery’ as she sometimes referred to it). Mary would also visit local gardens and if it happened to be raining, she would don a pair of short rubber boots and prod tentatively at the flower beds with her stick or umbrella. Family members often visited, particularly her youngest son, the Duke of Kent, and his sister Mary, the Princess Royal. The Duke’s death in an air accident in northern Scotland, in August, 1942 was a severe shock. However, Mary stoically put her own feelings aside and arranged to motor to Buckinghamshire next day, to comfort his widow, Marina. The only night the Queen Dowager spent away from Badminton during the entire war period, was at Windsor Castle on the eve of the Duke’s funeral on 29 August.

On occasion, Badminton was subjected to air raids due to its proximity to Bristol and Bath. Queen Mary initially ‘descended’ to a reinforced room on the ground floor where, dressed to perfection and sitting bolt upright, she would attempt to solve a crossword puzzle. Eventually, she decided to remain upstairs in bed and take her chances. However, Mary was less sanguine when it came to the bombing of her beloved Marlborough House noting, ‘The dear old House cannot stand much more of this, & I tremble each day for news of it’s having succumbed.’

By early 1945, the old Queen had resumed her journeys up to London. Their primary purpose was so that she could assess the extent of the damage to Marlborough House, with a view to preparing the place for her eventual return. From the outset, it became clear that only her private suite of rooms could be made habitable in time for her return home, as materials to undertake repairs were almost impossible to obtain.

After celebrating VE day (8 May) with a visit to the local pub (where the villagers were celebrating with a sing-song), Queen Mary departed Badminton on 11 June. She insisted on personally bidding farewell to the Heads of each of the nine ‘departments’ of the estate and presented a gift to each. It was an emotional occasion and with tears streaming down her face, the Dowager acknowledged to Mr Perks, the Head Gardener, ‘Oh, I have been happy here! Here I’ve been anybody to everybody, and back in London I shall have to begin being Queen Mary all over again.’ She also admitted to having ‘gained much’ from her time there, which is an understatement given that, prior to moving to Badminton, she had not even known what hay looked like.

The writer of this blog is the author of a new biography: Princess Olga of Yugoslavia Her Life and Times published by Grosvenor House Publishing and available as a hardback or e-book from Amazon and other on-line booksellers and local bookshops.

Marie-José-The May Queen

On 9 May 1945, a tall, aristocratic lady spent the day helping the homeless in Cassino. However, when a helper referred to her as ‘Your Majesty’, the individual suddenly realised that she had become Queen of Italy. The lady in question was Marie-José, the daughter of the late King Albert I of the Belgians and his wife Elisabeth. Yet, how had this situation come to pass?

In January 1930, following a long romance, the Princess had married the then heir to the Italian throne, Umberto, the Prince of Piedmont, in the historic Paolina Chapel of Rome’s Quirinal Palace. Initially, Marie-José and Umberto lived in the Royal Palace in Turin. However, unlike her more deferential husband (who always referred to his father, King Victor Emanuele, as ‘Majesty’) the Belgian Princess was much more of a free spirit. She preferred organising musical evenings and working with the Red Cross to observing strict court etiquette. From the outset, Marie-José was also passionate about studying the history of the House of Savoy, into which she had married.

However, a move to Naples, in November 1931 (where Umberto had been appointed Commandant of the 25th Infantry), was to prove fortuitous. The couple could escape the confines of the city’s Royal Palace for relaxing weekends at the Villa Rosebery in the seaside suburb of Posillipo. Marie-José also felt more emancipated among the happy and relaxed Neapolitans: She played tennis thrice-weekly at the Villa Communale and established a Public Refectory to feed the poor of the city. Fulfilled and in love, she later described this era as ‘the best times in our marriage.’ The culmination of her joy was the birth of a beloved daughter, Maria Pia, on 24 September, 1934.

Yet, this was also a difficult period. Marie-José’s father, King Albert, died in a climbing accident during her pregnancy and she was advised not to travel to Belgium for the funeral. Then, in August 1935, her beloved Swedish sister-in-law, Queen Astrid, was killed in a horrific car accident in Switzerland. Always in the background too were the troubling machinations of Mussolini’s right-wing government, or more particularly his invasion of Ethiopia in October 1935. While the Princess had grave reservations over Il Duce’s actions and policies, she coped by trying to be of practical use. Marie-José trained as a nurse and undertook a course in tropical medicine. Her hospital work would soon earn her the title, ‘Sister Marie-José.’ During a tour of Italian troops in Africa in 1936, the Princess was troubled by the poor facilities and low morale of the troops. She was incensed too by Mussolini’s propaganda machine, which described her as the ‘Empress of Ethiopia.’

With the passage of time, Marie-José bemoaned Il Duce’s increasing closeness to Hitler. This would eventually result in a confrontation, when the Princess decided that the proceeds of her Neapolitan fund-raising concerts should be donated to her ‘Princess of Piedmont Work Fund’ rather than the Fascist’s ‘National Work Fund.’ A major beneficiary of her Fund’s largesse was the National Association for Southern Italy which was overseen by the eminent archaeologist and anti-Fascist, Umberto Bianco. The Fascist regime in Rome was furious. Nor were they enamoured with Marie-José’s association with ‘liberals’ such as the Archbishop of Naples, Cardinal Alessio Ascaresi and the philosopher Benedetto Croce, whose home was raided by Fascist troopers.

In February, 1937, the Princess of Piedmont gave birth to a son, Vittorio Emanuele. She was not best pleased to learn that the Fascist Grand Council had the power to deliberate on the suitability of the Heir to reign and confronted Mussolini over the matter. He was unnerved by her direct approach, so different from that of her father-in-law, the King, whom Marie-José felt was complacent in his dealings with the Fascists. ‘A monarch’ Marie-José chided her husband Umberto, ‘should be there for all his people.’ A meeting with Hitler in Naples did little to dissuade her from her ‘democratic’ outlook. Indeed, in September 1938, the Princess met with the First World War hero, Marshal Pietro Badoglio at Racconigi Castle to discuss a plan to remove Mussolini and persuade the ‘discredited’ King Victor Emanuele to abdicate, thus paving the way for an anti-Fascist government. However, the Munich Agreement of 29 September short-circuited this attempt.

When Italy declared war on Great Britain and France, in June 1940, Marie-José informed a lady-in-waiting that the monarchy in Italy was ‘finished.’ She was already reeling from news of the invasion of her homeland by Nazi forces on 10 May. Indeed, the Princess had been ‘tipped-off’ about Germany’s intentions by a sympathetic Pope Pius on 6 May. However, Marie-José’s attempts to alert the Belgian government were thwarted by the Belgian Ambassador in Rome who dismissed the warning as an ‘enemy rumour.’

No matter what her personal feelings were in the matter, the Princess focused on helping those in need. Following the birth of her third child, Maria Gabriella, she spent the summer of 1940, working with the Red Cross on the Western Front and even organised a hospital train to transport the wounded from the Front. In September, Marie-José paid a visit to Brussels for discussions with her brother, King Leopold III, who had decided to see-out the German occupation with his people. He asked his beloved sister to meet with Hitler to request the repatriation of Belgian prisoners-of-war and ask for much-needed food supplies. Once again, the Princess put her individual feelings aside for the sake of her homeland and paid a visit to the Fuhrer at Berchtesgaden on 17 October. He seemed disinterested, although Marie-José pressed on doggedly and spoke to him of the ‘many sufferings inflicted on the Belgian people.’ She also encouraged her brother to enter into a dialogue with Hitler on the various matters.

By the time that Italy had declared war on the United States, in December 1941, the Princess had already reached the conclusion that her adopted homeland could not win the war. She again attempted to reach out to Marshal Badoglio and impress on him the need to remove the Fascists and end the war. Events backed her viewpoint: In late 1942, Italy was suffering from military reversals in Libya and Russia. The Marshal, however, was awaiting a signal from the ‘constitutional’ King and he in turn was seeking a signal from the people!

Undeterred, the Princess carried on with her work in hospitals and among the homeless and dispossessed, the numbers of whom had increased greatly as a result of Allied bombing. Marie-José was moved too by the people’s displays of affection towards her as she visited her refectories in Rome and Naples. By now pregnant with her fourth child, Maria Beatrice, the Princess sometimes took shelter in local houses from the bombing, where she was given coffee and, on one occasion, a bunch of flowers from the garden.

Mussolini, by contrast, appeared distracted and careworn. The swagger had gone as Italy’s defeats mounted. When the Allies invaded Sicily on 10 July 1943, King Victor Emanuele finally decided to act and, on 25 July, when Il Duce came to the Villa Savoia for an audience, he was arrested. Tellingly, Il Duce shouted out, ‘It is the Princess of Piedmont who will be happy.’ Clearly, Mussolini had realised that this ‘democratic’ Princess from Belgium was one of his greatest enemies.

Unfortunately, Marie-José relations with King Victor Emanuele were also far from good: They had not spoken in a long time and he must surely have been made aware of ‘the Belgian’s’ (as he referred to her) recent approaches to the Allies, through Cardinal Montini of the Vatican’s State Department, in an attempt to clarify their position if Italy was to withdraw from the war following a coup. On 6 August, the Princess was summoned by the King and ordered to cease all political activities. She was also told to leave Rome within 24 hours for ‘reasons of security.’

Following Italy’s surrender to the Allies on 8 September, a court official visited Marie-José at the Chateau de Serre in the Aosta Valley and requested that she move to Switzerland. This was probably for her own safety as German forces now swept into Italy and occupied the central and northern areas. The Princess and her four children initially settled at the Hotel Excelsior in Montreux and later moved to the Hotel Montana, Oberhofen. Her enemy, Mussolini, had meanwhile been ‘liberated’ by the Germans and set up the ‘puppet’ Salo Republic. The King and other members of the Italian Royal Family remained in Naples, which was occupied by the Allies on 11 October. Italy declared war on Germany on 13 October.

Although Marie-José now wished to join Partisan forces to fight the Nazi forces in northern Italy, she realised that if she was discovered, there could be reprisals for the local population. Instead, the Princess settled for smuggling weapons to the Swiss frontier for use over the border in Italy. This was very risky as she was under constant surveillance by the Swiss authorities and enemy agents too.

On 23 January 1944, the Italian diplomat Gallarati Scotti met with Marie-José at Oberhofen. He discussed a plan to install the Princess as Regent for her son, Vittorio Emanuele, and hopefully bring the monarchy closer to the people. However, the future authority was instead to rest with her husband Umberto, who was appointed Lieutenant-General of the Realm in June 1944, with full regal powers, following the liberation of Rome by the Allies. Indeed, it was not until April 1945 that Marie-José returned to Italy, crossing the Alps on foot from Switzerland, escorted by two mountain guides. Communist resistance fighters then escorted her to the Chateau de Sarre. Touchingly, her subsequent attendance at a Te Deum in nearby Aosta Cathedral was greeted with warm applause from fellow worshippers.

In May, the Princess moved to Turin and opened a Red Cross canteen for the homeless. Finally, she reached Rome on 16 June, for a welcome reunion with Umberto whom she had not seen for two years. In August, the children (who had been staying at Glion) returned home. Umberto had already opened a wing of the Quirinal to house the homeless, so Marie-José sold some jewellery to help provide much-needed funds to open yet another canteen, as well as a workroom for local women to make clothes. Nevertheless, there were many who opposed Umberto, feeling that he had not stood up sufficiently to Mussolini. He decided that a referendum should be held on the future of the monarchy in early June. In the interim, King Victor Emanuele abdicated on May 9 and left for exile in Egypt. Umberto was now King of Italy and Marie-José was his Queen Consort. But for how long?

Interestingly, by the time that the aforementioned helper, in Cassino, had referred to her as ‘Majesty’, Marie-José was already mentally preparing for exile. Her hunch was right, for following the referendum (in which she voted at a local school, submitting a blank ballot paper), she was informed privately that 54% had voted in favour of a republic. The King now instructed his wife to leave immediately for Portugal. But first she telephoned officials from all her charities, emphasising that their work must go on. On 5 June, Marie-José and the children flew from Rome to her beloved Naples and the Villa Rosebery. She queried to anyone who would listen, ‘Why can I not stay here as an ordinary citizen?’ However, next morning, she and her family boarded the vessel ‘Dukes of Abruzzes’, bound for Lisbon. As she watched the coast of Italy disappear into the distance, the now ex-Queen reflected, ‘For the first time I am free of all the falseness and hypocrisy which has surrounded me.’ Suddenly, her ‘reign’ of less than one month was over. She now became known for posterity as La Regina di Maggio (The May Queen).

Following confirmation of the referendum results, Umberto subsequently joined his family on an estate at Sintra, the Quinta de Bella Vista. He and Marie-José found life together difficult. She later complained that ‘Umberto was anguished, overcome by an inner suffering he could not share. It started to unnerve me and made me ill-at-ease in my own home.’ The couple’s daughter, Princess Maria Pia, observed that her parents were ‘very different’ characters. Umberto was ‘very serious and conscious of his role’ while her mother, ‘loved to laugh and walk in the street alone. [My father] would never have done this.’

Matters in the marriage came to head when Marie-José was given a transfusion of the wrong blood type during an appendix operation. She immediately fell into a coma and when she regained consciousness, it was found that her eyesight was severely impaired due to retinal haemorrhaging. The Queen moved to Switzerland for a course of treatment under the ophthalmologist Adolphe Franceschetti. However, the damage was found to be permanent and was such that if she looked downwards, she could see nothing. Marie-José now remained forever wary of descending stairs. Sadly, it had proved politically inappropriate for Umberto to follow his wife to Switzerland and Marie-José, taken aback by her husband’s lack of reaction to her situation, assumed that he craved solitude.

In due course, the Queen purchased a small castle, Merlinge, near Gy. Her son Vittorio joined her there, with her other children visiting at regular intervals from Portugal. She now rarely talked about the past but admitted to missing the warmth of Naples. Her days were filled with undertaking research into the House of Savoy, about which she wrote several books. Another interest was music and this led her to establish The Queen Marie-José International Musical Composition Prize. Travel also proved a draw and , accompanied by her mother Queen Elisabeth of the Belgians, Marie-José travelled to India (where she met Nehru) and to China.

By the 1980’s age was catching up with both Marie-José and Umberto. The latter died in March 1983, following a long and painful battle against cancer. He and his wife had always kept in touch and the Queen often visited him in hospital. Marie-José soldiered on, often in pain and making use of a stick: In March 1988, she made her first visit to Italy since 1946, visiting Aosta to attend a historical conference followed by a tour of the Royal Palace in Turin and the State Archives. When asked what she thought of Italian monarchists, she cleverly replied, ‘I am a Queen, but I am not a Monarchist.’

In older age, Marie-José fell in love with Mexico during visits to her daughter Maria Beatrice in Cuernavaca. She subsequently purchased a villa there with a pool, in which she would swim everyday. The Queen entertained a wide array of visitors including her nephew, King Albert II of the Belgians. Although Marie-José’s body might now be failing her, her mind was certainly not. Maria Beatrice would recall her mother’s ‘young spirit’ and ‘modern way of thinking.’

In 1995, in a reflective mood, Marie-José undertook a visit to Belgium. The following year, she decided to return to live in Switzerland, this time with her son, Vittorio Emanuele. The latter organised an outdoor party to celebrate his mother’s 90th birthday on 4 August 1996, a birthday she shared with Britain’s Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother, who was six years older. In 1999, Marie-José visited Florence to receive the Freedom of the City and the following year, she received an invitation to attend Queen Elizabeth’s 100th birthday celebrations in London. Sadly, she was too frail to accept.

Her Majesty Queen Marie-José of Italy, Princess of Belgium, died on January 27, 2001 in the Canton of Geneva Hospital, at the grand old age of 94. She had recognised family members until the end. At her funeral at Hautcombe Abbey, on 2 February, her coffin, draped with the flag of Belgium and the arms of her beloved House of Savoy, was carried in by family members and European royalties. Her beloved Alpini choir sang some favourite songs and the Sardinian anthem, ‘Conservat Deu Su Re Sardu’ (sung at her wedding) echoed through the Abbey. It is a measure of the individual that as the years pass, the Queen is still remembered with great affection.

Royal Wedding Tiara’s Tantalising History.

It was a most touching gesture of the Queen to lend her diamond fringe tiara to her granddaughter Princess Beatrice of York on her recent wedding day. Interestingly, Her Majesty had worn the self-same tiara at her own wedding to the Duke of Edinburgh in November 1947. Fortunately, for Beatrice, there was no mishap, or drama, involved in the wearing of it. The same cannot be said for the then Princess Elizabeth as, on the morning of her wedding day, the tiara’s fragile frame snapped, as the bride-to-be was dressing. Fortunately, the court jeweller was on hand to rush it-accompanied by a police escort-to his workroom for a quick but necessary repair.

But what is the history of this sparkling jewel which the catty diarist, Henry ‘Chips’ Channon referred to, dismissively, as ‘an ugly spiked tiara’? According to Suzy Menkes in her worthy examination of royal jewellery, the Royal Jewels and Leslie Fields in the exhaustively-researched Queen’s Jewels, the ‘sunray’ tiara was made, around 1830, to be worn as a necklace from brilliant-cut stones belonging to King George III (and referred to as the King George III fringe tiara). Fields indicates that Queen Victoria was the first person to use it as a tiara, when the graduated necklace was mounted on a thin wire band. In her book, she even includes an image of a young Victoria wearing it in a Winterhalter painting, carrying her infant son Prince Arthur (later the Duke of Connaught) in her arms. This necklace/tiara was one of an extensive list of items of jewellery (sometimes referred to as the ‘Crown Jewellery’, to distinguish it from the Sovereign’s personal gems) left in perpetuity to the Crown by Victoria on her death in 1901.

This tiara/necklace eventually passed into the hands of that most acquisitive of royal consorts, Queen Mary. However, this is where the story takes an unexpected and confusing turn. According to more recent sources (and meticulously highlighted in a post in the blog, The Royal Order of Sartorial Splendor in 2017), although Queen Mary did wear this 1830 version as a tiara, she also subsequently had a similar-styled tiara made from stones from a necklace she had received as a wedding present from Queen Victoria in 1893. This new ‘Queen Mary Fringe Tiara’ was manufactured by E. Wolff & Co. for the royal jewellers, Garrard and Company, in 1919 and was apparently easier to wear. She passed this version on to her daughter-in-law, Queen Elizabeth (along with a portion of the Crown Jewellery) following the accession of her second son, Albert (‘Bertie’), to the throne as King George VI in December 1936.

While both Menkes and Field state that it was the 1830 version which was worn by Princess Elizabeth as the ‘something borrowed’ on her wedding day in 1947, the more recent sources, including Hugh Roberts in his publication The Queen’s Diamonds, point to the later 1919 Queen Mary Fringe Tiara version’s use. He and the Royal Order of Sartorial Splendor Blogspot (17 February 2012) also point out that the two tiaras are frequently confused, as was the case when the Queen wore the later version in a formal portrait to be used in New Zealand to commemorate her Diamond Jubilee. The tiara was also worn by Princess Beatrice’s Aunt, Princess Anne (the Princess Royal) on her wedding day in November 1973.

Queen Elizabeth was glad of the acquisition of jewels from Queen Mary-which she wore on a tour of Canada in the summer of 1939-for as she revealed to the photographer, Cecil Beaton, ‘The choice [of jewellery available] is not very great, you know.’ Although this is an exaggeration, it was a tactful acknowledgement by her successor that Queen Mary, now Queen Dowager, still held on to the vast majority of royal gems, much of which had been amassed from often impecunious relatives during her husband, King George V’s reign. Fortunately, Queen Elizabeth’s jewellery box would be augmented by a wonderful bequest from the shrewd Scottish brewery heiress, Mrs Ronnie Greville in 1942.

The Royal Chapel of All Saints, Windsor-location of the wedding of Princess Beatrice.

This pleasant little Victorian Gothic church was the location of yesterday’s wedding of Princess Beatrice of York. The chapel stands ‘across the way’ (as Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother, a frequent worshipper there, would say) from the Royal Lodge in Windsor Great Park, the current home of Prince Andrew, Duke of York. George IV-who used the Royal Lodge as a private retreat in the 1820’s-was the first royal to worship at All Saints from around 1825. Indeed, it was he who commissioned the English architect, Jeffry Wyatville to design it. (Other sources point to the influence of architect John Nash).

Queen Victoria later worshipped there too and had the chapel rebuilt, during the early 1860’s, to designs by Samuel Sanders Teulon and Anthony Salvin. This included the addition of a new chancel, extra seating for worshippers and a stained-glass window dedicated to the memory of her mother, the Duchess of Kent and Strathearn, who died in 1861. There is a also a window to the memory of Queen Victoria’s grandson, Prince Christian Victor of Schleswig-Holstein, the son of Prince Christian and his wife Princess Helena, who lived nearby at Cumberland Lodge. Their beloved ‘Christle’ died of enteric fever in Pretoria in 1900, while serving with British forces in South Africa during the Boer War.

Around 1931, the future King George VI (then Duke of York) and his wife Elizabeth took up residence at the (much-reconstructed) Royal Lodge. The couple were regular worshippers at the chapel. When the Duke of York ascended the throne in 1936, he subsequently had various alterations undertaken including the installation of a new ceiling (designed by the architect and designer Edward Maufe) in the Chancel, as well as the addition of a royal pew (carefully positioned to allow for privacy), new choir stalls and a screen for the organ.


Following Queen Elizabeth’s death at Royal Lodge on 30 March 2002, the Queen Mother’s mortal remains rested at the Altar of All Saints prior to being taken to London for the Lying-in-State at Westminster Hall in the Palace of Westminster. Today the Queen worships at All Saints when she is in residence at Windsor. Those who live and work in the Great Park may also attend services.

Princess Elizabeth’s 21st Birthday Speech.

Princess Elizabeth, the daughter of King George VI, was due to turn 21 on 21 April, 1947. The Royal Family were on a tour of South Africa at this time and it was decided that the young princess should make a ‘dedication’ broadcast to the Empire from Government House, Cape Town on the evening of her birthday. There was, however, a problem. The beam radio link between Cape Town and the BBC in London was unreliable and often subject to extreme interference. Frank Gillard, a former BBC Wartime Correspondent, was covering the tour and sent a memo expressing his concern to Sir Alan Lascelles, the King’s Private Secretary. What if, he queried, the Empire were waiting patiently for the broadcast and nothing happened? It would look ridiculous.

Fortunately, Gillard and his colleagues came up with an excellent solution. The Princess could pre-record her broadcast on high-quality discs which could then be flown to London to be used as a fail-safe should the ‘live’ broadcast from Cape Town fail to materialise or be interrupted in any way. The ‘stand-by’ version was pre-recorded on the evening of Sunday, 4 April at the Victoria Falls Hotel in Southern Rhodesia, where the royal family were enjoying a brief stay on their current leg of the tour. The King emphasised to an already nervous Gillard that ‘this will probably be the most important broadcast of my daughter’s life.’ No pressure then!

There was another useful aspect to this exercise: When Gillard had perused the prepared script with the King and Queen, all were horrified by the ‘pompous platitudes’ expressed within it. They and Princess Elizabeth subsequently sat down together and spent two hours completely revising the text. Shortly after sundown, the Princess sat at a table with a large BBC microphone atop to pre-record the broadcast. Gillard remembers that she was ‘composed, confident and extremely cooperative.’ Within hours, the discs bearing the recording were being flown to London for use if required.

As it happened, the beam radio signal to London was working a treat on 21 April and a ‘live’ broadcast was possible from Government House, Cape Town. The words, ‘I declare before you all that my whole life, whether it be long or short, shall be devoted to your service and the service of our great Imperial family to which we all belong’ rang out over the airwaves and are remembered to this day, with great affection, by those listening. It is not surprising that South Africa has a special place in the Queen’s heart. It must also be remembered that she was the last monarch of the Union of South Africa prior to the country becoming a republic in May,1961. However, she returned to make two State Visits, in 1995 and 1999, the former at the invitation of President Mandela.

The Queen’s State Visit to Norway June 1955.

Late on the evening of June 23, 1955, a flotilla of ships sailed up the Oslofjord to the delight of watching crowds from the shore. Fireworks were set off and bonfires pricked the gloom near the island of Maerdøy. At the front of the flotilla, which was otherwise composed of British Royal Navy frigates and the Norwegian destroyers, Oslo and Stavanger, was the Royal Yacht Britannia which had sailed from Rosyth in Scotland on 21 June. Faintly visible on deck were the ‘yacht’s’ principal occupants: Queen Elizabeth II and her husband the Duke of Edinburgh, who were about to commence a State Visit to Norway next day (the first of the Queen’s reign to a country outside of the British Commonwealth).

After anchoring overnight in the Fjord, at 11 a.m. on 24 June, the Britannia entered the inner harbour at Oslo and the guns on the ramparts of historical Akershus Fortress roared out in greeting. By now, the Royal Yacht was surrounded by a selection of small craft, all jostling in the waves so their occupants might better obtain a sighting of the royal couple. Similarly, the surrounding quaysides were filled with curious onlookers. Crown Prince Olav, a first cousin of the Queen’s late father King George VI, set off from the quay in his launch for the Britannia to welcome the distinguished guests to Norway on behalf of the King and bring them safely ashore. Later, at the Quay of Honour (Honnorbrygga), 82-year-old King Haakon carefully descended the steps to greet the Queen (who also happened to be his Great-Niece) with a courtly bow and a kiss of her hand. The Duke of Edinburgh, sporting the ribbon and the star of the Grand Cross of the Order of St Olav on his Admiral’s uniform, received a firm handshake.

After a ceremonial drive up Carl Johan, Oslo’s main thoroughfare, which was packed to bursting with spectators (including 400 British schoolchildren) the royal party reached the Royal Palace. Although not on the official schedule, the British royalty made an appearance on the balcony with their Norwegian counterparts, who included Princess Astrid (acting as official hostess, a role she had assumed following the death of her mother, Crown Princess Märtha, the previous year) and her elder sister, Princess Ragnhild, who had made a special journey from her home in Brazil.

The Queen’s first engagement was a visit to the fortress of Akershus, accompanied by the Duke and King Haakon, to pay her respects to Norway’s war dead and lay a wreath of white lilies and roses at the War Memorial. The royal party then moved on to the City Hall where the Mayor, Brynjulf Bull, led them on a tour of the magnificent murals, sculptures and tapestries. It is fair to say Her Majesty was greatly interested in what she observed and asked many questions of her host. However, the commemoration of those who had perished in battle was once again the focus when the Queen and Duke visited the British War Graves section at Vestre Gravlund cemetery. This was a very British occasion, with the Royal Marine’s band (from Britannia) playing the British National Anthem and the Queen laying a wreath of white roses at the British War Cross, followed by buglers sounding the Last Post and Reveille. Her Majesty subsequently made a point of inspecting the graves and meeting with Mrs Inga Kristoffersen who tended the grounds.

From there, the royal party drove out to Holmenkollen to observe the ski jump ‘in summer dress’ with empty stands and a distinct absence of snow. Earlier, they had taken tea nearby with the Canadian Minister to Norway, Mr Chester Rønning, at the Canadian Legation (for it must be remembered that Her Majesty is also the Queen of Canada). Then came the climax of the first day, the State Banquet at the Royal Palace, where the British visitors shook hands with the guests in the Red Room, to the accompaniment of tunes played by the Norwegian Broadcasting Corporation band. In the Banqueting Hall, the tables had been dressed with red, blue and white flowers as a nod to the colours of the British Union Jack flag. In his welcoming speech, King Haakon referred to the many Norwegians who had spent time in the Britain during World War II and emphasised his belief that there ‘will always exist the strongest bonds of friendship’, between the Britain and Norway. The Queen replied by stating that ‘we were truly happy to have so many gallant Norwegians with us’ and noted that King Haakon had ‘sustained and uplifted’ her parents, King George VI and Queen Elizabeth, during the Second World War by his ‘courage and resolution.’

On their second day in Norway, a Saturday, the Queen and the Duke visited the Bygdøy Peninsula. The couple first paid a visit the Folk Museum, where they were much impressed by the 12th century wooden Stave Church from the village of Gol in Viken county, which had been painstakingly re-erected on the present site, in 1884, thanks to funds provided by King Oscar II of Sweden and Norway. The duo also toured a traditional Norwegian farmstead and a selection of rooms in townhouses furnished in the style of different historic periods. The inspection ended with a display of folk dancing accompanied by fiddle music. Just as exciting was Her Majesty’s meeting with the adventurer Thor Heyerdahl as she arrived to inspect the Kon-tiki raft in which he had sailed 8,000 kilometres across the Pacific Ocean from South America to the Tuamotu Islands. Thor kindly presented the Queen with a model of the raft. The nautical theme continued when the Queen and Duke of Edinburgh subsequently visited the polar exploration vessel ‘Fram’ used by the Norwegian explorers Fridtjof Nansen and Roald Amundsen on their Arctic and Antarctic expeditions. The Viking Long Ships-the oldest relics of Norway’s maritime tradition-were also examined.

Around 4pm, the British royalties arrived at the British Embassy to preside over a garden party attended by 1500 invitees, the majority being from the British community in Norway. The Queen, dressed in a floral print dress, was escorted throughout by the British Ambassador, Mr Peter Scarlett. They made a wide sweep of the gardens as Her Majesty was anxious to speak to as many of her guests as possible and she questioned them about where they lived and what had brought them to live in Norway. The Queen later planted a cherry tree as a memento of her visit.

In the evening, the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh joined King Haakon, members of the Norwegian royal family, government ministers and members of the diplomatic corps for a performance of Ibsen’s Peer Gynt at the National Theatre. Her Majesty made an impressive sight as she took her seat in the dress circle wearing an ice blue evening dress accessorised with a diamond tiara and necklace. The red ribbon and the star of the Grand Cross of the Order of St Olav-with which the Queen had just been invested-provided a striking contrast.

Despite the lateness of the hour the previous evening, the British royal duo were up bright and early to attend Divine Service at St Edmund’s Anglican Church, the neo-gothic style church of the British community in Oslo (and once frequented by the Queen’s late Great-Aunt, Queen Maud, the British-born Consort of King Haakon). Inside, the altar was decorated with pink carnations as this was known to be one of the Queen’s favourite flowers. The Bishop of Fulham-who has episcopal oversight over Anglican churches in Norway-presided, assisted by the British Embassy Chaplain.

Thereafter, the Queen and the Duke drove out to the village of Asker, twelve miles south-west of Oslo, to have lunch at Crown Prince Olav’s private home on the Skaugum estate. Princess Astrid, Olav’s youngest daughter, again acted as hostess on this semi-private occasion where other guests included the British Foreign Secretary, Harold Macmillan. Then all too soon it was time for the British royal party to leave for Oslo.

When the Queen and Duke of Edinburgh’s car arrived at the Quay of Honour at 6.25pm, the Norwegian and British vessels which would escort Britannia out to sea were already departing. King Haakon had preceded the Queen to the Quay and the farewell ceremony between the two Sovereigns was brief. The King of Norway, in a sombre suit, conducted Her Majesty to the bottom of the steps to her waiting launch, bent down and kissed her hand. To the delight of the watching crowd, the Queen impulsively stroked His Majesty’s cheek before joining the Duke on board. Suddenly, the watching crowd erupted,’ Come Back! Come back again soon!’ Meanwhile, in the background, the guns of Akershus Fortress echoed across the Oslofjord.

At 7.25pm the Norwegian royal family and some other notables, were taken out to the Britannia for a final dinner. Then, as the Royal Yacht prepared to get up steam, King Haakon and his party boarded the Norwegian Royal launch, Stjernen, which then proceeded in the direction of a small reef south of Bygdøy, on which stands the Dyna lighthouse. At 9.41pm the Britannia slipped her moorings and slid gracefully down the fjord passing the launch and the lighthouse. The Norwegian State Visit of 1955 had now ended in the most delightful fashion on an evening of pale blue sky and pink clouds.

Crown Princess Märtha-Norway’s Wartime Weapon .

Although the German invasion of Norway had led to the flight of Norway’s Crown Princess Märtha and her three children (Ragnhild, Astrid and Harald) across the border into ‘neutral’ Sweden, to avoid capture, in the early hours of 10 April 1940, it was not a situation with which Crown Prince Olav was happy. From his current refuge at Trangen, Langvatnet, Olav wrote to his friend, President Franklin D. Roosevelt, on 10 May, recalling a conversation between the two at Roosevelt’s Hyde Park country estate, in April 1939, during which the President offered sanctuary to Olav and Märtha’s children in the event of war reaching Norway. In his letter, the Crown Prince also questioned how safe his children actually were in Sweden. Certainly, even though the Crown Princess was Swedish, some in Sweden believed that her and her children’s presence compromised the country’s neutrality. Olav certainly had reason to be fearful for Märtha, who was now staying at Ulriksdal Palace in Stockholm, and was under constant political pressure from both the Administrative Council in Oslo and her Uncle, King Gustav V of Sweden, to embrace a ‘Norwegian Regency’ model whereby Harald would be proclaimed king, although his Swedish-born mother would act as regent until the Prince reached his majority. Those who held to this viewpoint, promoted it on the basis that it offered the only opportunity to save the Norwegian monarchy. The plotting had reached a crescendo following the departure of King Haakon and Crown Prince Olav from Norwegian soil on 7 June for exile in London and caused the Crown Princess to send a telegram to London warning her husband and father-in-law of the situation.

There was now the very real danger that Prince Harald might be kidnapped and taken to Oslo. This must have crossed the mind of Crown Prince Olav for, on 22 June, he wrote again to President Roosevelt, from Buckingham Palace, asking him to make good on his offer of sanctuary for his children, while also requesting that it be extended to include the Crown Princess. Roosevelt would be as good as his word and more, for on 13 August, the royal children and the Crown Princess left Ulriksdal and travelled northward through Finland to Petsamo (now Petsjenga, Russia) where, on 15 August, they embarked the USS American Legion which transported them and other refugees across the Atlantic Ocean to New York. The Crown Princess-who was given accommodation in the Captain’s cabin-appeared on the ship’s manifest as ‘Mrs Jones.’ Other members of the royal party included her Chief of Staff, Peder Anker Wedel Jarlsberg, Lady-in-Waiting, Mrs Ragni Østgaard and the children’s nurse, Signe Svendsen.

Märtha and the children arrived in New York on 28 August, after a stormy journey. From the quayside, the Crown Princess and her party went immediately to the Waldorf Astoria hotel where a room full of dolls and toys had been arranged to amuse the children. As the Crown Princess had not spoken to her husband in over four months, her first request was for an international call to be put through to Crown Prince Olav in London. Aside for the usual romantic endearments, Olav was able to give his wife some useful advice on ‘official lines to take’ with the US press.

The family’s suite at the Waldorf Astoria was luxurious and spacious and was being paid for by the Boomer family, who owned the hotel and had strong dynastic links with Norway. Märtha chose to give her press conference in the sitting room. She emphasised that her presence in America was temporary, stating that, ‘All we Norwegians look forward to the day when we shall return to a free and independent Norway.’ It was not an altogether pleasant experience and the Crown Princess would later confide to a friend that she ‘would rather submit to an operation’ than go through the ordeal again.

The Crown Princess’ next stop was to the private home of her host, President Roosevelt at Hyde Park. At the President’s informal retreat on his Springwood estate, Top Cottage, the children played happily in the swimming pool, while Märtha took the chance to have a long chat with the President about her situation. They also discussed where she might live. Within days, the Crown Princess was heading to the White House in Washington D.C., from where the President took her for a ride in his official car to view a large twenty-four roomed property, set in 105 acres, at Pook’s Hill, Maryland. This is subsequently leased by the Norwegian government-in-exile for the royal family’s use. While the house was being made ready, the Princess stayed at the White House in the Rose Guest Bedroom.

America was a whole new way of life, both for the children and their mother. Although Märtha was already proficient in English (albeit with a strong Scandinavian accent) the three children-who all attended local schools-were soon completely fluent in English. Nevertheless, their mother insisted that only Norwegian was spoken at home. The Crown Princess’ initial focus was on providing the children a secure upbringing. However, her charm and beauty, allied to her ability to listen, soon made Märtha a hit with the President and his family. Roosevelt would often drive out to Pook’s Hill to take tea with the Norwegian royals; in turn they were often asked for lunch, tea, dinner or a swim at the White House or even to take a sailing trip on board the Presidential Yacht USS Potomac. The friendship became so close that by August 1941, the Crown Princess was included in a party that sailed from New London on the Potomac to Martha’s Vineyard, before transferring to the heavy cruiser USS Augusta which then sailed to Newfoundland where a clandestine bi-lateral meeting took place between the President and Winston Churchill. Norwegian author Tor Bomann-Larsen recently stated that Roosevelt had became ‘infatuated’ with Märtha. If he was, it was to the ultimate benefit of the Princess’ adopted homeland as it helped to establish close relations between Norway and the US, as well as to boost Norway’s standing amongst the Allied powers. Roosevelt was certainly a willing participant in this regard and, in September 1942, during the handover ceremony, at Washington’s Navy Yard, of a submarine chaser to the Norwegian Navy, the HNoMS King Haakon VII, President Roosevelt, with the Crown Princess strategically seated by his side, implored Americans to ‘look to Norway’ and its resistance movement for inspiration to win the war. Märtha thanked the presence effusively for his ‘beautiful and generous words’ adding that ‘your words will bring hope and renewed faith and deliverance from the yoke of the barbarians.’

In fact, Roosevelt might also have added ‘look to Märtha’, for the Princess can now be regarded as a key figure in the Norwegian war effort, particularly in the USA, as she patriotically toured hospitals, churches and schools with links to Norway, dressed in her wide trademark hats with a jewelled Flag of Norway brooch on her lapel. Nor was she averse to enrolling her family to further the cause, as is exampled with the royal foursomes’ regular visits to ‘Little Norway’, the Norwegian Air Force training camp at Muskoka Aerodrome in Ontario. The propaganda value of five-year-old Prince Harald, pictured for the first time in military uniform, patriotically saluting the Norwegian flag or sitting in a flight simulator was immeasurable, all the more so if these pictures somehow found their way into the hands of Norwegians in their occupied homeland. The Crown Princess also regularly invited the press into her Maryland home for charming photographic opportunities, featuring the children on their bicycles or posing with their mother in the drawing room. These were subsequently released to the US and international press. Sometimes the children were also photographed with President Roosevelt and, in the case of Prince Harald, with the President’s photogenic Scottish Terrier, Fala. It all made for good publicity, as did Märtha’s radio broadcasts at Christmas to the people of Norway in which she stated with emotion, ‘We think of you with sadness in our heart but also with unspeakable pride.’

Were the Crown Princess and the President involved in a romantic relationship? The evidence is very much to the contrary. It is no secret that Roosevelt was involved in a long-term relationship with Lucy Rutherfurd, who had once served as Social Secretary to Eleanor Roosevelt. Furthermore, in the Crown Princess’ letters to the President, such as one thanking him for a ten-day family break at Hyde Park, Märtha uses the introduction, ‘My dear Godfather…’, hardly a term of romance. The Norwegian historian, Trond Norén Isaksen is of the opinion that the Crown Princess fulfilled a political role, during her US sojourn, in that she passed on a plethora of information to the President about the war in Europe sourced through the Norwegian Embassy in Washington. As she now had the President’s ear, Märtha was also perfectly placed to advance Norway’s cause. Yet, there is no doubt that the President was taken by the Princess’ teasing good humour and lively manner. There is also the sense that Märtha was captivated by this powerful elder statesman, from a completely different milieu and culture, serving out the final years of his political career. Indeed, she liked nothing better than taking colour 16mm ciné films of their encounters, whether it be during their regular afternoon drives in the President’s car or in the White House or at Hyde Park or even aboard the Potomac (where there is a charming frame of Roosevelt lifting his hat to the Princess in a friendly greeting) using her Bell, Duck and Howell ciné camera, a 40th birthday gift from the staff of the Norwegian Embassy. However, there is one common denominator that features in each of these images: The President was constantly surrounded by Secret Service men or secretaries or chauffeurs, while Märtha was invariably accompanied by a Lady-in-Waiting or her children to whom the President was particularly kind. Indeed, to Prince Harald he was almost a surrogate grandfather figure, sharing interests in common, such as collecting postage stamps. Nevertheless, despite her endeavours on behalf of Norway, Märtha was, at times, almost guilt-ridden that she and her children were enjoying such a good life in the States, ‘while my compatriots are suffering at home. I really feel rather miserable about it.’

Following President Roosevelt’s fourth inaugural in January 1945, Märtha and Crown Prince Olav were part of the ‘inner circle’ who joined him afterwards for a private lunch in the Red Room of the White House. Next day, the President toasted the Norwegian royal’s good health prior to setting out for the Yalta Conference in Russia, for he surely realised that the time was fast approaching when Märtha and her children would return home to Europe permanently. One of the Princess’ final engagements in Washington was to attend a Girl Scouts of America reception at the Norwegian Embassy on 11 March during which she received a selection of gifts for a Norwegian Girl Scout group currently located at Drumtochty Castle in Scotland. The 300-strong American contingent present that day also pledged to ‘adopt’ the first Norwegian Girl Scout troop to be re-established in Norway following the liberation from German occupation.

On 24 March, Märtha and Olav dined at the White House with President and Mrs Roosevelt. It was to be their final meeting with Roosevelt. Thereafter, the somewhat fatigued President left for a two-week period of rest at the Warm Springs Resort in Georgia. He died there suddenly of a cerebral haemorrhage on 12 April, at his beloved ‘Little White House’. Lucy Rutherfurd was present at the time. Roosevelt’s death was a bitter blow to the Crown Princess. Crown Prince Olav-who always met up with the President during his wartime visits to Washington (indeed Roosevelt had once been personally responsible for arranging Olav’s visit to the capital, as a surprise Christmas present for the Crown Princess)-gave an indication of the depth of his family’s feelings for the late President during a radio broadcast the following day: ‘It is as though I have lost a near relative and dear friend whom it was always a great joy to meet and from whom one never took his leave without feeling enriched by his exuberant personality.’

Following Germany’s capitulation on 8 May 1945, the Crown Princess and her children crossed the Atlantic once again–this time by air–to land at Prestwick in Scotland. There they were briefly reunited with Crown Prince Olav, prior to his return to Oslo on 13 May, sailing from Rosyth aboard HMS Apollo. It had already been decided that Märtha and her children would also return to Oslo by sea from Rosyth, accompanied by King Haakon, as soon as the 300,000 German Prisoners-of War in Norway had been rounded-up and disarmed.

On 5 June the King, Crown Princess Märtha and the children received a wonderful send-off from the naval top brass at Admiralty House, North Queensferry. They then boarded HMS Norfolk for the two-day journey home to Oslo. On entering the Oslofjord, on 7 June, the royal party (which now included Crown Prince Olav who had embarked the Norfolk at Moss) went out on deck to wave to the well-wishers who congregated both on the shore and also aboard a varied selection of flag-bedecked sailing craft. The royal party were then piped off the Norfolk by pipers from the Scots Guards.

After greeting the members of the Honour Guard and standing to attention for the Norwegian National Anthem, the King and Crown Princess drove together in the King’s limousine (which had survived the occupation intact), right up the city’s main boulevard, Karl Johan Gate, to the Royal Palace. After a while, all of the royal family appeared together on the palace balcony. Flying from the flag post was the very same Royal Standard which had been hidden from the Germans on the King’s instruction when he departed the Palace early on the morning of 9 April, 1940. Aftenposten, a respected Norwegian newspaper, headlined the occasion as ‘The biggest and most beautiful day in the history of free Norway’.

In sum, the role of the Crown Princess during World War II should not be underestimated. She was tireless in her promotion of Norway both in the United States and throughout the Allied nations. Furthermore, she deftly gained the confidence of the most powerful man in the world in a way that many-including the world leaders of the time-could only have dreamed off. She may have been born Swedish but she was ultimately Norway’s greatest wartime asset.

Robert Prentice has a keen interest in the fate of the various royal families during World War 2. He is the author of the recently-published Princess Olga of Yugoslavia Her Life and Times which is available to buy through Amazon and other on-line and local bookshops.

King Gustav V of Sweden: Nazi Sympathiser?

King Gustav V of Sweden was an avowed Germanophile, as was much of his family. His late wife, the strong-willed Queen Victoria of Sweden, had after all been born a Princess of Baden and was both the granddaughter of Emperor Wilhelm I as well as a cousin of Emperor Wilhelm II. Furthermore, the marriage was primarily a political alliance organised by Gustav’s father, King Oscar II, who was keen to forge strong ties with Germany. Victoria’s influence over her rather hesitant husband was considerable and was still evident in the years following her death in 1930. Gustav continued to be a frequent visitor to Berlin where he entertained the President of Germany and the newly-elected Chancellor, Adolf Hitler to lunch at the Swedish Legation in 1933. As recently as February 1939, the King paid another visit to Berlin, during which he conferred on Field Marshal Hermann Göring, a Commander Grand Cross of the Royal Order of the Sword, a distinguished Swedish military award.

However, when World War II commenced in September 1939, the Swedish government of Per Albin Hansson adopted a neutral stance, a view endorsed by King Gustav. Nevertheless, this would prove a difficult position to maintain and was to come at a price. The first challenge was when Germany invaded Sweden’s neighbours of Norway and Denmark on 9 April 1940. Gustav received news of this by telephone, just after 5am, from his Foreign Minister, Christian Günther. The latter had been informed of the dual invasions in person at his home on Ymervägen in Djursholm, only a few minutes earlier, by the German Minister in Stockholm, Prince Victor of Wied. The Prince (who was a second cousin of the late Queen Victoria of Sweden) had been at pains to reassure Günther that Sweden would not be invaded (subject to certain conditions) and that he would soon be in a position to hand over an official communication from Berlin which would elaborate on the German government’s position. Wied was as good as his word and, by 9am, a collection of notables, including the Prime Minister, the Foreign Minister and the Crown Prince, joined the King in his study at the Royal Palace to discuss Germany’s demands. It made uncomfortable reading: Firstly, Sweden was not allowed to mobilise its forces. Secondly, the Swedish navy must at all times not hinder German naval operations nor travel further than three miles from the Swedish coast. Neither was Sweden to impede German telecommunications traffic. Of particular importance to the German war effort, deliveries of Swedish iron ore were to continue unhindered, with the mines protected against Allied sabotage attempts.

It would be fair to say that each person sitting round the table was fearful of the Nazi menace. They had no reason to doubt that if they did not agree to these terms, Hitler’s troops would soon be marching down the streets of Stockholm. Indeed, only the sceptical Crown Prince-who had previously been married to Britain’s Princess Margaret of Connaught and was currently married to the British-raised Louise Mountbatten (who outspokenly compared Nazism to Barbarism) -spoke out against acceptance of these conditions. Eventually, it was agreed to accept the German’s demands with one exception: Sweden would not agree to being prohibited from mobilising its forces. On April 19, King Gustav V wrote a personal letter to Hitler assuring him of Sweden’s neutral intentions.

However, this decision did not mean that Gustav V was now able to sit back and let matters take their course. On the contrary, he would immediately be faced with numerous dilemmas. The first was when his niece, Crown Princess Märtha of Norway, seeking to avoid capture by German occupying forces, travelled from Elverum across the border into Sweden with her three children in the early hours of 10 April. None of the party had passports but eventually the border guards let them through. Unsure of the reception she would receive from her Swedish relations, the Crown Princess then proceeded to the Högfjällshotell in the ski resort of Sälen where she was joined by her mother, the Danish-born Princess Ingeborg, who was no fan of the Germans.

No sooner had Gustav received word of Märtha ’s arrival when another crisis crossed his desk. An exhausted King Haakon and Crown Prince Olav, who had remained in Norway but refused to cooperate with the Nazis, were currently being hounded by a crack group of 120 German commandos bent on their capture or death. They had reached the Swedish border post near Flötningen, on 12 April. The Norwegian Foreign Minister, Halvdan Koht, telephoned his Swedish counterpart, Christian Günther, seeking a guarantee that King Haakon might be allowed to cross over into Sweden and cross back safely after a night’s rest at a hostel. Günther discussed the matter with King Gustav. The reply was brisk and uncompromising: ‘The Swedish government does not want to provide guarantees regarding return travel in advance.’ It was also indicated that under international law, if the Norwegian King and his party crossed the border in military uniform, they would be interned. This response was to earn Gustav the lasting enmity of King Haakon.

Meanwhile, the situation with Crown Princess Märtha was also badly handled by King Gustav. Märtha was moved on from Sälen, as it was feared her presence so close to the Norwegian border might provoke the Germans, but as to doing exactly what remains unclear. Uncle Gustav eventually offered her accommodation at Ulriksdal Palace in Stockholm. However, during this period the Crown Princess (who received little news of King Haakon and her husband Olav) was subject to constant political pressure from the Administrative Council (among others) in Oslo, who indicated that they wished both her and Prince Harald to return to Norway and cooperate with the occupying power. The ‘bait’ was the possibility that Harald might be made King. King Gustav then chose to become involved and in a telegram to Hitler, on June 16, he openly encouraged the Germans to adopt the ‘Norwegian Regency’ model whereby Harald would be proclaimed king, with his Swedish mother acting as regent until the Prince reached his majority. Ironically, Hitler would interpret Gustav’s involvement as a Norwegian-inspired attempt to put pressure on Germany. Märtha was clearly aware of the growing danger and sent a telegram to London warning her husband and father-in-law ( who had fled there, in early June, to set up a government-in-exile) that her Swedish family (i.e. King Gustav) and Hitler were conspiring to remove King Haakon and set up a Regency. Crown Prince Olav had never felt his family were safe in Sweden and in a letter from Buckingham Palace dated 22 June, he appraised his old friend President Franklin D. Roosevelt of the situation. The President soon came to Märtha’s rescue and offered her and her children the chance to relocate to the United States as his ‘personal guests.’ They departed Ulriksdal on 12 August and sailed from the Finnish port of Petsamo (now Petsjenga, Russia) aboard the USS American Legion on 15 August. Olav’s intervention, of course, thwarted the regency option much to the annoyance of King Gustav who had telegraphed King Haakon, on 24 July, stating that he objected to the American trip as it might undermine the future of the Norwegian monarchy, a viewpoint Haakon quickly dismissed.

Not content with concerning himself with Norwegian matters, Gustav V turned his hand to acting as a peacemaker between Germany and the United Kingdom. He wrote personally to Britain’s King George VI, as well as to Hitler offering his services as an intermediary. What the Fuhrer replied is unclear but George VI handed a note to the Swedish Ambassador in London on 12 August which courteously but firmly rejected Gustav’s offer, pointing out that ‘the intention of My Peoples to prosecute the war until their purposes have been achieved has been strengthened’ as a result of the felonious behaviour of the Germans in the war so far.

Meanwhile, King Gustav was also faced with an even more pressing problem: A German request to transport food, medical staff and nursing supplies through Sweden by train to Narvik in northern Norway. This port was the primary outlet, particularly in winter, for transporting the Swedish ore by sea to Germany. The Swedish government agreed to this request on 17 April. It was a decision they would soon come to regret, as over time the Germans would push for further concessions. The most debated was during the so-called midsummer crisis (Midsommarkrisen) in 1941, when Germany-who had by now reached an accommodation with Finland and was planning an invasion of the Soviet Union-asked to transport a battle-equipped division of military personnel belonging to the Wehrmacht’s 163rd Infantry Division from Oslo to Haparanda, near the Finnish-Swedish border in Northern Sweden, for further transportation eastward. The Swedish cabinet was divided on the issue and the Prime Minister was initially against granting the request, on the basis that it was a violation of Sweden’s neutrality. However, the government executed a volte-face when King Gustav declared that he would abdicate unless Germany’s application was granted. Thus, on June 25, the Prince of Wied had a long conversation with King Gustav who was able to assure him that the transit of the Division would be permitted. It was emphasized, however, that this was to be a one-time concession. The same afternoon the train carrying the German troops left Oslo and on June 26, crossed the Swedish frontier. According to Sweden’s Expressen newspaper, over the ensuing wartime years 2,140,000 German soldiers and 100,000 tons of weapons and equipment were transported into Norway through ‘neutral’ Sweden.

This period sees Gustav and some of his family at their most fawning where Germany is concerned. In September 1941, Princess Sibylla, the German-born wife of Prince Gustaf Adolf, Duke of Västerbotten was spotted serving coffee and cake to a group of wounded German soldiers, travelling homeward from Norway, at the Krylbo railway station northwest of Stockholm. It is inconceivable that this was done without the King’s permission; while in February 1942, Gustav would also permit a visit to Stockholm by Sibylla’s father, the Duke of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, an avowed Nazi and Obergruppenführer in the SA. In addition, in October 1941, Gustav attempted to send a personal letter to Hitler ‘about a matter that is close to my heart…’ i.e. Bolshevism and offering his ‘sincere thanks to you for deciding to strike at this plague..’ and congratulating the Fuhrer ‘on the results you have already achieved.’ However, the Prime Minister got wind of it and would not allow the letter to be sent. That the King was a devious operator is evidenced by what he did next: Gustav merely sent for the Prince of Wied and read the letter out aloud to him. The Prince took notes and that very evening, the German Foreign Ministry in Berlin received a copy of the text from the German Embassy in Stockholm. Of course, Wied was more than just a diplomat. As a second cousin of Gustav’s late wife, the King treated the Prince ‘like family’ and he was often invited on summer retreats. It is no wonder that Winston Churchill now viewed Gustav as being, ‘absolutely in the German grip.’

Gustav V and his government were also afraid of the Swedish press upsetting the Germans. Academics have reported that there was ‘very limited reporting’ on the Jewish question in 1940 and 1941 compared to the pre-war years. This self-censorship also extended to at least sixteen Swedish newspapers being prevented from reporting abuses in Norwegian prisons. Expressen cites a case which illustrates that the Swedish King took a personal interest in such matters. When the Gothenburg Trade and Shipping Magazine featured an article by Torgny Segerstedt (an avowed critic of Nazism and Sweden’s policy of appeasement to Hitler) which mentioned Nazi atrocities, Gustaf V summoned the magazine’s editor to the Royal Palace and urged him to stop writing negative articles about Hitler and his regime.

It is easy today to criticise the actions of King Gustav. However, he and his government were clearly under constant pressure for although Sweden remained unoccupied, it remained cut off from the West by German-held territory and was dependent on Germany for her necessary imports. Furthermore, the possibility of a German invasion of Sweden was ever-present. At times, the King’s intervention may even have prevented a German incursion, as when he wrote to assure Hitler that ‘Sweden will defend itself against all invaders, even against an English attack…’ This was in response to Hitler’s grumblings that Sweden would not protect itself against a British invasion thus threatening the supply of iron ore on which Germany so desperately relied. Certainly, in April 1942, Hitler decided to strengthen German forces in Norway by 70,000 men. The 25th Panzer Division was strategically stationed in Oslo and was Germany’s way of intimidating the Swedish government into continued cooperation. By contrast, with the weakening of the German military position in the latter part of 1943 onwards, Gustav’s fear of German reprisals seemed to have diminished and he appeared more accommodating, although cynics would say that was merely repositioning himself in preparation for an Allied victory. Nonetheless, during this period, the King has been credited with helping save Jews deported from Nazi-occupied countries such as Denmark by authorizing measures including the distribution of Swedish passports. Furthermore, in June 1944, at the urging of the Swedish diplomat Raoul Wallenberg and the Chief Rabbi in Sofia, Gustav sent a telegram to the Hungarian ‘Regent’, Miklós Horthy, protesting the deportation of Jews from Hungary.

The author of this blog takes a keen interest on the fate of royalty during World War II. He narrates the wartime adventures of the Greek-born Princess Olga (onetime Consort of Prince Regent Paul of Yugoslavia) in Africa (and much else besides) in a new biography Princess Olga of Yugoslavia: Her Life and Times published on 1 April 2021 by Grosvenor House Publishing. This is now available to purchase on Amazon, and other book outlets, in hardback or e-book.

King of Norway’s Triumphal Return to Oslo: June 1945

On 7 June 1945, King Haakon made a triumphal return by sea to Oslo, following the capitulation of Nazi forces on 8 May. The date was highly symbolic for several reasons: Exactly forty years before, to the day, the union between Norway and Sweden was formally dissolved. Secondly, this was the fifth anniversary of the day, on 7 June 1940, when the King and his son and heir, Olav, had been forced to flee Norway after a harrowing, three-month game of cat and mouse with the German forces who had occupied this Nordic Kingdom on 9 April.

Accompanying Haakon on this sea voyage, leaving from Rosyth in Scotland, aboard the British cruiser and flagship, HMS Norfolk, under the command of Vice-Admiral Rhoderick McGrigor, was his Swedish daughter-in-law Crown Princess Märtha and her three children Ragnhild, Astrid and Harald, who had just flown in from the United States after nearly five years in exile. Some sources have indicated that the Norwegian Sovereign had actually wanted to return aboard the same ship which had taken him into exile, from Tromso, on 7 June 1940, HMS Devonshire. However, on this occasion, the Devonshire’s role was limited to that of a ‘Royal Escort’ ship. Nevertheless, the King had received a wonderful send-off from the naval top brass at Admiralty House, North Queensferry, on 5 June, and was grateful to the British for permitting him to see out his exile in the land of his late wife and son’s birth, a fact he had already acknowledged in a radio broadcast to his people from London on 17 May. Haakon also spoke movingly of his Norwegian subjects’ steadfastness and thanked his armed forces for their loyalty and tenacity.

As HMS Norfolk entered the Oslofjord, with HMS Devonshire following on to the rear, local Norwegians took to the waters in all manner of flag-bedecked sailing craft, from fishing boats to tugs, to welcome their beloved Sovereign home. They had been partying ever since German forces surrendered a month earlier, but this was undoubtedly the highlight of these celebrations. Crown Prince Olav, who had returned to Norway on 13 May, was amongst them. He came aboard HMS Norfolk at Moss and must have been somewhat startled at the sight of his three children dressed in oversize duffle coats against the breeze. These outfits were quickly swapped for ‘Sunday Best’ clothing for the welcome home festivities in Oslo.

Once the Norfolk had reached its destination, the sun broke through the clouds and the King and his family disembarked and were transported by launch to the quayside near to Akerhus Fortress (Honnørbryggen) where, after shaking hands with the official welcoming party, the King straightened his back and strode purposefully down the red carpet to a waiting pavilion decked out flags bearing the royal insignia. The Oslo City Hall provided a fitting backdrop. The Crown Prince and Crown Princess and their children followed on close behind. All of the royal ladies were then presented with large bouquets of flowers. Hundreds of thousands of the King’s loyal subjects lined the quaysides and surrounding thoroughfares. Princess Astrid, who was then aged thirteen, told the broadcaster NRK that she had been overwhelmed by the strength of the welcome for which she was ‘totally unprepared’ following five years spent, in relative anonymity, as a schoolgirl in Bethesda, Maryland.

After greeting the members of the Honour Guard, formed at the King’s express wish from the 99th Norwegian-American ‘Viking’ Battalion of the US Army, and standing to attention for the Norwegian National Anthem, the King and Crown Princess entered the royal limousine bearing the famous A1 registration plate and which had survived the occupation intact. For security reasons, a soldier with a rifle sat in the front passenger seat. The other members of the royal entourage settled into other official cars behind to form a convoy, accompanied by army jeeps and military outriders, which swept up the city’s crowd-packed main boulevard, Karl Johan Gate, to the Royal Palace that sat atop a hill at one end. In the city, a special stand had been erected for frail and elderly spectators. All around, buildings were decorated with banners bearing either the colours of Norway or with the King’s own distinctive cipher. On one street, a large sign the breadth of the road read ‘Velkommen Hjem.’ Aftenposten, a respected Norwegian newspaper, headlined it as ‘The biggest and most beautiful day in the history of free Norway’.

King Haakon, Crown Prince Olav, Crown Princess Märtha and the three royal children later all appeared together on the balcony of the Royal Palace which was bedecked with a large flag of Norway. Already flying from the palace flag post was the very same Royal Standard which had hidden from the Germans on the King’s instruction when he left the Palace early on the morning of 9 April, 1940. Meanwhile down in the port, a dance was held on the upper deck of HMS Devonshire. The day concluded with an impressive firework display.

Within a few days, the King was busy undertaking his official duties including the chairing of his first State Council meeting on 12 June (his first in Norway since 5 April 1940).In late summer, by which time many of the German prisoners-of-war had been repatriated, the King embarked on a tour of the country to see for himself the destruction wrought by the war, as well as the ongoing efforts to rebuild.

The writer of this blog, Robert Prentice, is the author of a new biography Princess Olga of Yugoslavia: Her Life and Times published by Grosvenor House Publishing and available to purchase as a hardback or e-book through Amazon and other on-line and local bookshops.

Crown Princess Märtha Eludes Nazi Regency plot.

Following the German invasion of Norway on 9 April 1940, King Haakon, his son Crown Prince Olav, daughter-in-law Crown Princess Märtha and three grandchildren (Ragnhild, Astrid and Harald) journeyed northwards by train, accompanied by members of the government, from Oslo’s Østbanen Station to Hamar in an attempt to evade capture. By the early evening, the royals had settled at an estate at Sælid, a few kilometres outside of Hamar, where they were just sitting down to dinner when word was received from the local police chief of the impending arrival of several busloads of German troops. The little group immediately set out by car towards Elverum, to rendezvous with members of the government who had fled there from Hamar, arriving at 10.30pm. However, the news there was equally uncertain and it was at this juncture that a decision was taken to send the Swedish-born Crown Princess Märtha and her three children over the border into neutral Sweden for reasons of safety. A royal convoy of three cars crossed the border into Sweden from Trysil, in the early hours of 10 April, and proceeded to the Høyfjellshotell in the ski resort of Sälen. As it was a glorious sunny day, the children spent most of the time skiing on the nearby slopes, while their mother remained at the hotel glued to the radio for news of events in neighbouring Norway. What she heard could hardly have lifted her spirits, as the Germans were now bombing Eleverum and Nybergsund, killing dozens of people. At one stage, King Haakon and his son Olav are forced to take shelter in a ditch to avoid being fired on by low-flying Heinkel bombers.

Crown Princess Märtha’s mother, Princess Ingeborg of Sweden arrived at Sälen a few days later, visibly tired yet ‘filled with a glowing hatred of the Germans’, according to one of the Norwegians, for her homeland of Denmark had also been occupied. Ingeborg was also deeply concerned for the welfare of her brother, King Haakon and her son-in-law (and nephew) Olav. Meanwhile, the Swedish authorities were nervous of the Norwegian royalty remaining so close to the border area so, thanks to Princess Ingeborg’s efforts, the royal party was able to take up temporary residence at Count Carl Bernadotte of Wisborg’s home at Rasbo near Uppsala.

After about two weeks, Märtha’s paternal uncle, King Gustav V of Sweden, who was known to have pro-German leanings (and had already refused a plea from King Haakon and Crown Prince Olav to cross the border into Sweden for fear of provoking Hitler) offered Crown Princess Märtha and her party accommodation at Ulriksdal Palace, on the outskirts of Stockholm. Although at dinner on the first evening, ‘everyone was terribly kind and friendly’, there was no discussion of the increasingly perilous situation in Norway, where King Haakon and Crown Prince Olav remained in constant danger from a crack unit of German commandos’ intent on their capture or possibly death. But Olav was also concerned for the safety of his children and wife in Sweden and wrote to President Franklin D Roosevelt from Trangen, Langvatnet, on 10 May, mentioning an offer which Roosevelt had made, in late April 1939, during the Crown Prince and Princess’ weekend stay at the President’s country home at Hyde Park, ‘to take care of the children’ if the war should reach Norwegian shores.

Märtha, meanwhile, spent time playing rummy and bridge each evening after dinner while the children and their nurse played games of tennis, swam in a nearby inlet or went picnicking. However, underneath, the minutiae of everyday Palace life, the Crown Princess was increasingly anxious about the future, for her sole communication with her husband was via courier and, as he was constantly on the move, that was sporadic at best. This left her in a very vulnerable position and soon Märtha was subjected to considerable political pressure from the Administrative Council (among others) in Oslo, who indicated that they wanted her and Prince Harald to return to Norway and cooperate with the occupying power in order to save the monarchy. This would, of course, involve King Haakon’s abdicating. The timing of this political intervention was no accident for, as the Germans were only too well aware, the Norwegian King was no longer in Norway as, following the decision of the Allied powers to withdraw from Norway, he and his son Olav had departed Norwegian soil at Tromsø, on 7 June, to settle temporarily in England and carry on the fight for Norwegian democracy there. To make matters worse, the Swedes also became involved in discussions over the future of the Norwegian monarchy. In a telegram to Hitler on June 16, the Swedish King openly encouraged the Germans to adopt a ‘Norwegian Regency’ model whereby Harald would be proclaimed king, although his mother would act as regent until the Prince reached his majority. Märtha was clearly aware of the growing danger and sent a telegram to London warning her husband and father-in-law that her Swedish family (i.e. King Gustav) and Hitler were conspiring to remove King Haakon and set up a regency.

It has to be said that there was now the very real danger that Prince Harald might be kidnapped and taken to Oslo. This must have crossed the mind of Crown Prince Olav for, on 22 June, he had written again to President Roosevelt from Buckingham Palace asking him to make good on his offer of sanctuary to his children, but this time he also included a request on behalf of his wife. Olav also made an approach to the US Secretary of State via the US Ambassador in London, Joseph Kennedy, entreating ‘if there is anything you can do in a hurry to get the [Crown] Princess out [of Sweden].’ On 12 July, the US Secretary of State sent a message to the US Minister in Stockholm saying that President Roosevelt was arranging for a naval transport vessel to be sent to Finland to evacuate the Crown Princess and her family along with a group of ‘stranded’ US citizens. Both the German and British governments had agreed to grant the ship safe passage. The US Minister was now instructed to meet with Märtha and ascertain if she wished to proceed with this offer.

Meanwhile, in Norway, word had reached the Administrative Council that King Haakon was refusing to abdicate, thus placing in doubt on the regency option. According to the US Minister in Stockholm, the Administrative Council were now trying to reach a satisfactory agreement with the German occupying authorities, whilst also being careful to avoid upsetting the local population by attempting to ‘dethrone’ Europe’s only elected Sovereign. A National Council was proposed to conduct state affairs while the King remained overseas.

On 18 July, Märtha received a telephone call from the Norwegian Minister in Washington, Wilhelm Thorleif von Munthe af Morgenstierne. He informed a somewhat surprised Crown Princess (who, not unsurprisingly, seems to have been in the dark about Crown Prince Olav’s recent correspondence with Roosevelt) that an American warship was being sent Finland to transport her and her children to the US. On 20 July, Märtha received the US Minister to Norway, Mrs Florence Harriman, who was now ensconced temporarily at the US Legation in Stockholm, and indicated to her that she was happy to accept President Roosevelt’s offer. Nevertheless, Märtha was keen to emphasise that she wanted to enter the US ‘as quietly as possible’ and ‘would not be required to meet reporters or a reception committee’. The Crown Princess also clearly hoped the date of her arrival would be kept confidential.

On 22 July, Mrs Harriman was informed by the US State Department that a naval transport, the USS American Legion, was about to leave for the Finnish port of Petsamo (now Petsjenga, Russia) and should reach there around 5 August. It was also made clear that there was ‘no possible way’ the Crown Princess’ arrival in the US could be kept confidential. Indeed, soon after Märtha left Ulriksdal, on 12 August, the Norwegian Legation released a statement to the press, also broadcast over Radio Sweden, stating that the Crown Princess and her three children ‘will leave for the United States in the next few days to visit President Roosevelt’ who had issued ‘a personal invitation’ to the Norwegian royals. In the interim, the Crown Princess travelled northward into Finland and on to Petsamo where, on 15 August, she and the royal children embarked the American Legion which transported them across the Atlantic to New York. Märtha appeared on the ship’s manifest as ‘Mrs Jones.’ Others in the party included her Chief of Staff, Peder Anker Wedel Jarlsberg, a Lady-in-Waiting, Mrs Ragni Østgaard, the latter’s son Einar and the royal children’s nurse, Signe Svendsen. Touchingly, Prince Harald was pictured clutching his beloved teddy bear. However, in her luggage, Märtha also had a touching, splendid farewell gift from her mother: a magnificent suite of emerald and diamond parure which had once belonged to Queen Sophia of Sweden. The intention was that should the Crown Princess ever be in financial difficulties, during these difficult war years, she could raise cash by selling the parure.

The author of this blog takes a keen interest on the fate of royalty during World War II. He examines the wartime adventures of Princess Olga (the onetime Consort of the Prince Regent of Yugoslavia) in Africa (and much else besides) in the new biography Princess Olga of Yugoslavia: Her Life and Times published on 1 April 2021 by Grosvenor House Publishing. This is now available to purchase on Amazon in hardback or e-book.