La reine Marie José d’Italie demeure l’une des dames les plus emblématiques des familles royales d’Europe. Pourtant, beaucoup en savent peu sur sa vie, en particulier au-delà du glamour tel qu’il était dépeint autrefois. Comme cet article (ci-dessous) le révèle, il y avait bien plus à cette personne pragmatique, mais ayant un esprit démocratique.
En mai 1946, une grande dame aristocratique passait la journée à aider les sans-abri dans la région de Cassino. Cependant, lorsque un assistant l’a appelée ‘Votre Majesté’, l’individu a soudainement réalisé qu’elle était devenue Reine d’Italie. La dame en question était Marie-José, la fille du feu Roi Albert I des Belges et de sa femme Elisabeth. Mais comment cette situation avait-elle pu se produire?
Marie-José quand elle était enfant.
La princesse Marie-José est née à Ostende en août 1906. Elle était la benjamine des enfants du roi Albert Ier des Belges et de sa consort, née duchesse Élisabeth de Bavière. Par celle-ci, elle était petite-nièce de l’iconique impératrice Élisabeth d’Autriche (‘Sisi’). La princesse a d’abord été élevée au château de Laeken à Bruxelles, avec une maison de campagne à Ciergnon. Alors que les batailles de la Première Guerre mondiale se déroulaient en Europe continentale, elle a passé de nombreuses années de primaire en Angleterre où elle a fréquenté l’Ursuline Convent High School à Brentwood, Essex. Une influence particulière était Mademoiselle Hammersley, une femme anglaise raffinée qui s’occupait de sa protégée. En 1917, Mademoiselle Hammersley accompagnerait Marie-José en Italie où la princesse fréquenta l’Istituto Statale della Santissima Annunziata à Florence. Les cours étaient traditionnellement enseignés ici en italien, anglais et allemand.
Marie-José avant son mariage
Avec l’arrivée de la paix, la princesse Marie-José retournerait à Bruxelles où, en 1919, elle s’inscrivit à l’Institut Sacré-Cœur à Linthout sous la direction de la Mère Supérieure Jacquemin. Elle y resterait jusqu’à l’âge de dix-huit ans et bénéficierait d’une éducation catholique de bonne qualité.
Un visiteur au port d’Anvers en Belgique à l’automne 1922 était Umberto, le Prince de Piémont et héritier du trône d’Italie. Il est arrivé à Anvers à bord du navire Ferruccio pour représenter officiellement l’Italie à l’inauguration d’un nouveau canal. Il a été accueilli par Marie-José et ses frères. La princesse a ensuite été montrée sur le navire par Umberto (qu’elle avait rencontré plusieurs années auparavant en Italie) et a été impressionnée par son apparence bronzée, ses cheveux d’un noir jais et son élégant uniforme militaire blanc. Ce fut une brève rencontre, au cours de laquelle les visites du Prince de Piémont à Rhodes, Benghazi et Tripoli ont été discutées. Il devait y avoir une étincelle suffisante entre eux, car le septembre suivant, la famille royale belge a été invitée pour une visite d’un mois au château de Racconigi près de Turin. Bien que des devoirs militaires et officiels aient signifié qu’Umberto n’a fait qu’une seule brève apparition, cela a donné à Marie-José un aperçu de la vie au sein de la Maison de Savoie. Cette visite a également dû s’avérer fructueuse car l’année suivante, la mère d’Umberto, la reine Elena, a écrit pour dire à une amie en Belgique qu’elle continuait à espérer une union entre son fils et la princesse Marie-José.
Ainsi, en janvier 1930, à la suite d’une longue romance, la princesse avait épousé Umberto, le prince de Piémont, dans la chapelle historique Paolina du palais du Quirinal à Rome. Au départ, Marie-José et Umberto vivaient au palais royal de Turin. Cependant, contrairement à son mari plus respectueux (qui appelait toujours son père, le roi Victor Emmanuel, ‘Majesté’), la princesse belge était beaucoup plus une âme libre. Elle préférait organiser des soirées musicales passionnantes et travailler avec la Croix-Rouge plutôt que d’observer une étiquette de cour stricte. Dès le départ, Marie-José était également passionnée par l’étude de l’histoire de la Maison de Savoie, dans laquelle elle s’était mariée.
Le prince et la princesse de Piémont le jour de leur mariage
Cependant, un déménagement à Naples, en novembre 1931 (où Umberto avait été nommé Commandant de la 25e Infanterie), devait s’avérer fortuit. Le couple pouvait échapper aux confins du Palais Royal de la ville pour des week-ends de détente à la Villa Rosebery dans la banlieue balnéaire de Posillipo. Marie-José se sentait également plus émancipée parmi les Napolitains heureux et détendus : elle jouait au tennis trois fois par semaine à la Villa Communale et avait établi un Réfectoire Public pour nourrir les pauvres de la ville. Épanouie et amoureuse, elle décrivit plus tard cette époque comme ‘les meilleures années de notre mariage.’ L’apogée de sa joie fut la naissance d’une fille bien-aimée, Maria Pia, le 24 septembre 1934.
Pourtant, c’était aussi une période difficile. Le père de Marie-José, le roi Albert, est mort dans un accident d’escalade pendant sa grossesse et on lui a conseillé de ne pas voyager en Belgique pour les funérailles. Puis, en août 1935, sa chère belle-sœur suédoise, la reine Astrid, a été tuée dans un horrible accident de voiture en Suisse. Toujours en arrière-plan, il y avait aussi les machinations troublantes du gouvernement d’extrême droite de Mussolini, ou plus précisément son invasion de l’Éthiopie en octobre 1935. Bien que la Princesse ait de graves réserves sur les actions et les politiques d’Il Duce, elle s’est débrouillée en essayant d’être d’une utilité pratique. Marie-José a été formée comme infirmière et a suivi un cours en médecine tropicale. Son travail à l’hôpital lui vaudra bientôt le titre de ‘Soeur Marie-José.’ Lors d’une tournée des troupes italiennes en Afrique en 1936, la Princesse a été troublée par les mauvaises installations et le moral bas des troupes. Elle était également indignée par la machine de propagande de Mussolini, qui la décrivait de manière provocante, mais inexacte, comme l’ ‘Impératrice de Éthiopie ‘
Avec le passage du temps, Marie-José déplorait la proximité croissante d’Il Duce avec Hitler. Cela entraînerait finalement une confrontation, lorsque la Princesse décida que les bénéfices de ses concerts de collecte de fonds à Naples devraient être donnés à son ‘Fonds de travail de la Princesse de Piémont’ plutôt qu’au ‘Fonds national de travail’ du Fasciste. Un des principaux bénéficiaires de la générosité de son Fonds était ‘l’Association nationale pour le sud de l’Italie’, une région plus pauvre, qui était supervisée par l’éminent archéologue et anti-fasciste, Umberto Bianco. Le régime fasciste à Rome était furieux. Ils n’étaient pas non plus enchantés par l’association de Marie-José avec des ‘libéraux’ tels que l’archevêque de Naples, le cardinal Alessio Ascaresi et le philosophe Benedetto Croce, dont la maison fut perquisitionnée par des soldats fascistes.
Marie-José en tant que Princesse de Piémont
En février 1937, la princesse de Piémont a donné naissance à un fils, Vittorio Emanuele. Elle n’a pas été très heureuse d’apprendre que le Grand Conseil fasciste avait le pouvoir de délibérer sur la capacité d’un héritier à régner et a confronté Mussolini à ce sujet. Il a été déstabilisé par son approche directe, si différente de celle de son beau-père, le roi, que Marie-José considérait comme complaisant dans ses relations avec les fascistes. ‘Un monarque’, a reproché Marie-José à son mari Umberto, ‘doit être là pour tous ses peuples.’ Une rencontre avec Hitler à Naples n’a guère dissuadé son point de vue ‘démocratique’. En effet, en septembre 1938, la princesse a rencontré le héros de la Première Guerre mondiale, le maréchal Pietro Badoglio au château de Racconigi pour discuter d’un plan visant à évincer Mussolini et à persuader le roi Victor Emmanuel ‘discrédité’ d’abdiquer, ouvrant ainsi la voie à un gouvernement anti-fasciste. Cependant, l’accord de Munich du 29 septembre a court-circuité cette tentative.
Lorsque l’Italie a déclaré la guerre à la Grande-Bretagne et à la France, en juin 1940, Marie-José a informé une dame d’honneur que la monarchie en Italie était ‘finie’. Elle était déjà sous le choc des nouvelles de l’invasion de sa patrie, la Belgique, par les forces nazies le 10 mai. En effet, la princesse avait été ‘prévenue’ des intentions de l’Allemagne par un Pape Pie sympatique le 6 mai. Cependant, les tentatives de Marie-José pour alerter le gouvernement belge ont été contrecarrées par l’ambassadeur belge à Rome qui a rejeté l’avertissement comme une ‘rumeur ennemie’.
Quelles que soient ses émotions personnelles, la princesse se concentrait désormais sur l’aide aux personnes dans le besoin. Après la naissance de son troisième enfant, Maria Gabriella, elle passa l’été 1940 à travailler avec la Croix-Rouge sur le Front occidental et organisa même un train-hôpital pour transporter les blessés du Front. En septembre, Marie-José rendit visite à Bruxelles pour des discussions avec son frère, le roi Léopold III, qui avait décidé de vivre l’occupation allemande avec son peuple. Il demanda à sa sœur bien-aimée de rencontrer Hitler pour demander la rapatriement des prisonniers de guerre belges et solliciter des denrées alimentaires indispensables. Encore une fois, la princesse mit de côté ses sentiments individuels pour le bien de sa patrie et rendit visite au Führer à Berchtesgaden le 17 octobre. Il semblait désintéressé, bien que Marie-José persista avec détermination et lui parla des ‘nombreuses souffrances infligées au peuple belge.’ Elle encouragea également son frère à engager un dialogue avec Hitler sur les différentes questions.
Marie-José en uniforme de la Croix-Rouge.
Lorsque l’Italie a déclaré la guerre aux États-Unis, en décembre 1941, la princesse avait déjà conclu que sa patrie adoptive ne pourrait pas gagner la guerre. Elle a de nouveau tenté de contacter le Maréchal Badoglio pour lui faire comprendre la nécessité d’éliminer les fascistes et de mettre fin à la guerre. Les événements allaient soutenir son point de vue : à la fin de 1942, l’Italie souffrait de revers militaires en Libye et en Russie. Le Maréchal, cependant, attendait un signal du Roi ‘constitutionnel’ qui, à son tour, cherchait un signal du peuple!
Sans se laisser décourager, la Princesse poursuivit son travail dans les hôpitaux et parmi les sans-abri et les dépossédés, dont le nombre avait considérablement augmenté en raison des bombardements alliés. Marie-José était également touchée par les manifestations d’affection du peuple envers elle lors de ses visites dans ses réfectoires à Rome et Naples. Déjà enceinte de son quatrième enfant, Maria Beatrice, la Princesse cherchait parfois refuge dans des maisons locales lors des bombardements, où elle se voyait offrir du café et, à une occasion, un bouquet de fleurs du jardin.
En revanche, Mussolini semblait distrait et marqué par le souci. L’arrogance avait disparu alors que les défaites de l’Italie s’accumulaient. Lorsque les Alliés ont envahi la Sicile le 10 juillet 1943, le roi Victor Emmanuel, d’habitude indécis, a enfin décidé d’agir et, le 25 juillet, lorsque le Duce est venu à la Villa Savoia du roi pour une audience, il a été arrêté. Il est révélateur que le Duce ait crié : ‘C’est la Princesse de Piémont [le titre royal officiel de Marie-José] qui sera heureuse.’ Il est clair que Mussolini réalisait que cette princesse ‘démocratique’ de Belgique était l’une de ses plus grandes ennemies.
À la suite de la capitulation de l’Italie face aux Alliés le 8 septembre 1943, un officiel de la Maison Royale a rendu visite à Marie-José à son emplacement actuel au Château de Serre dans la vallée d’Aoste et a demandé qu’elle se rende en Suisse. C’était probablement pour sa propre sécurité, alors que les forces allemandes envahissaient désormais l’Italie et occupaient les zones centrales et nordiques. La Princesse et ses quatre enfants se sont d’abord installés à l’Hôtel Excelsior à Montreux, puis ont déménagé à l’Hôtel Montana, à Oberhofen. Son ennemi, Mussolini, avait entre-temps été ‘libéré’ par les Allemands et avait établi la ‘république marionnette’ de Salò. Le Roi et d’autres membres de la famille royale italienne sont restés à Naples, qui a été occupée par les Alliés le 11 octobre. L’Italie a déclaré la guerre à l’Allemagne le 13 octobre.
Bien que Marie-José souhaite désormais rejoindre les forces partisanes pour combattre les forces nazies dans le nord de l’Italie, elle a réalisé que si sa participation était découverte, il pourrait y avoir des représailles pour la population locale. Au lieu de cela, la princesse s’est contentée de faire passer des armes à la frontière suisse pour une utilisation de l’autre côté en Italie. C’était très risqué car elle était sous surveillance constante des autorités suisses et aussi des agents ennemis.
Le 23 janvier 1944, le diplomate italien Gallarati Scotti a rencontré Marie-José à Oberhofen. Il a discuté d’un plan pour installer la princesse comme régente pour son fils, Vittorio Emanuele, et espérer rapprocher la monarchie du peuple. Marie-José était, après tout, considérée comme une démocrate, sans liens avec Mussolini ou son régime fasciste de droite. Cependant, ceux qui étaient actuellement au pouvoir décidèrent que l’autorité royale future devrait plutôt reposer sur son mari Umberto, qui fut nommé Lieutenant-Général du Royaume en juin 1944, avec tous les pouvoirs royaux, suite à la libération de Rome par les Alliés. Ce n’est qu’à la fin avril 1945 que Marie-José retourna en Italie, traversant les Alpes à pied depuis la Suisse, escortée par deux guides de montagne. Des combattants de la résistance communiste lui firent ensuite escorte jusqu’au Château de Sarre. Émouvant, sa présence ultérieure à un Te Deum dans la cathédrale voisine d’Aoste fut accueillie par des applaudissements chaleureux de la part des autres fidèles.
En mai 1945, la princesse déménagea à Turin et ouvrit une cantine de la Croix-Rouge pour aider les sans-abris. Enfin, elle arriva à Rome, voyageant par avion depuis Turin, le 16 juin, pour une réunion tant attendue avec Umberto qu’elle n’avait pas vu depuis deux ans. Pourtant, elle était également hantée par la vue des ruines des villes autrefois vibrantes qu’elle survolait en route. En août, les enfants royaux (qui avaient séjourné à Glion où, à un moment, Maria Pia et Maria Gabriella avaient toutes deux succombé au typhus) rentrèrent également chez eux à Rome. Pendant ce temps, Umberto avait ouvert une aile du Quirinal pour accueillir les sans-abris, alors Marie-José vendit des bijoux pour aider à fournir des fonds nécessaires à l’ouverture d’une autre cantine, ainsi qu’un atelier pour que les femmes locales puissent confectionner des vêtements. Néanmoins, il y avait beaucoup de ceux qui s’opposaient à Umberto, estimant qu’il n’avait pas suffisamment résisté à Mussolini. Umberto décida alors qu’un référendum devrait être organisé sur l’avenir de la monarchie. Celui-ci devait avoir lieu en juin 1946.
En attendant, le roi Victor Emmanuel a abdiqué le 9 mai et est parti en exil à Alexandrie en Égypte. Umberto était désormais roi d’Italie et Marie-José était sa reine consort. Mais pour combien de temps ?
Ironiquement, au moment où l’auxiliaire mentionné ci-dessus, à Cassino, faisait référence à Marie-José en tant que ‘Sa Majesté’, la nouvelle Reine se préparait déjà mentalement à l’exil. Son pressentiment était juste, car après le référendum (au cours duquel elle vota dans une école locale, en soumettant un bulletin de vote blanc), Marie-José fut informée en privé que 54 % des électeurs avaient voté en faveur d’une république. Le Roi ordonna maintenant à sa femme de partir immédiatement pour le Portugal. Mais d’abord, elle s’assura de téléphoner aux responsables de toutes ses œuvres de charité, en soulignant que leur travail devait se poursuivre sous une république.
Le 5 juin, Marie-José et les enfants prirent l’avion de Rome à sa chère Naples et à la Villa Rosebery. Elle demanda à quiconque voulait l’entendre : ‘Pourquoi ne puis-je pas rester ici en tant que citoyenne ordinaire ?’ Cependant, le lendemain matin, elle et sa famille embarquèrent à bord du navire, à destination de Lisbonne. Alors qu’elle regardait la côte italienne disparaître au loin, l’ancienne reine réfléchit : ‘Pour la première fois, je suis libre de toute la fausse apparence et de l’hypocrisie qui m’ont entourée.’ Soudain, son ‘règne’ de moins d’un mois était terminé. Elle devint désormais connue pour la postérité sous le nom de La Regina di Maggio (La Reine de Mai).
Après la confirmation des résultats du référendum, Umberto a ensuite rejoint sa famille dans un domaine à Sintra, la Quinta de Bella Vista. Lui et Marie-José ont trouvé la vie ensemble difficile. Elle a plus tard exprimé sa plainte en disant que ‘Umberto était angoissé, accablé par une souffrance intérieure qu’il ne pouvait pas partager. Cela a commencé à me perturber et m’a mis mal à l’aise dans ma propre maison.’ La fille du couple, la Princesse Maria Pia, a souligné que ses parents étaient des caractères ‘très différents’. Umberto était ‘très sérieux et conscient de son rôle’ tandis que sa mère, ‘aimait rire et marcher seule dans la rue. [Mon père] n’aurait jamais fait cela.’
La reine Marie-José dans les années 1950
Les choses dans le mariage sont devenues tendues lorsque Marie-José a reçu une transfusion du mauvais groupe sanguin lors d’une opération de l’appendicite. Elle est tombée immédiatement dans le coma et, lorsqu’elle a repris conscience, il a été découvert que sa vue était gravement altérée en raison d’hémorragies rétiniennes. La Reine s’est rendue en Suisse pour suivre un traitement sous la direction de l’ophtalmologiste Adolphe Franceschetti. Cependant, les dommages se sont révélés permanents et étaient tels que si elle regardait vers le bas, elle ne voyait rien. Marie-José restait désormais éternellement méfiante face aux escaliers. Malheureusement, il s’avérait politiquement inapproprié pour Umberto de suivre sa femme en Suisse et Marie-José, déconcertée par l’apparente incapacité de son mari à réagir à sa situation, supposait qu’il désirait la solitude.
En temps voulu, la Reine acheta un petit château, Merlinge, près de Gy. Son fils Vittorio la rejoignit là-bas, tandis que ses autres enfants lui rendaient visite à intervalles réguliers depuis le Portugal. Elle parlait désormais rarement du passé mais avouait regretter la chaleur de Naples. Ses journées étaient consacrées à des recherches sur la Maison de Savoie, dont elle écrivit plusieurs livres. Un autre intérêt était la musique, ce qui l’amena à établir le Prix International de Composition Musicale Reine Marie-José. Les voyages étaient également une attraction et, accompagnée de sa mère, la Reine Elisabeth des Belges, Marie-José se rendit en Inde (où elle rencontra Nehru) et en Chine.
Dans les années 1980, l’âge rattrapait à la fois Marie-José et Umberto. Ce dernier est décédé en mars 1983, après une longue et douloureuse bataille contre le cancer. Lui et sa femme avaient toujours gardé contact et la Reine le visitait souvent à l’hôpital. Marie-José a continué à se battre, souvent avec douleur et utilisant une canne : En mars 1988, elle a effectué sa première visite en Italie depuis 1946, visitant Aoste pour assister à une conférence historique suivie d’une visite du Palais Royal de Turin et des Archives d’État. Lorsqu’on lui a demandé ce qu’elle pensait des monarchistes italiens, elle a habilement répondu : ‘Je suis une Reine, mais je ne suis pas une Monarchiste.’
À un âge avancé, Marie-José est tombée amoureuse du Mexique lors de ses visites à sa fille Maria Béatrice à Cuernavaca. Elle a ensuite acheté une villa là-bas avec une piscine, dans laquelle elle se baignait tous les jours. La Reine a accueilli une large gamme de visiteurs, y compris son neveu, le roi Albert II des Belges. Bien que le corps de Marie-José puisse maintenant la lâcher, son esprit n’était certainement pas affecté. Maria Béatrice se souvenait de l’esprit ‘jeune’ et de la ‘manière de penser moderne’ de sa mère.
En 1995, dans un esprit réfléchi, Marie-José entreprit une visite en Belgique. L’année suivante, elle décida de retourner vivre en Suisse, cette fois avec son fils, Vittorio Emanuele. Ce dernier organisa une fête en plein air pour célébrer le 90e anniversaire de sa mère le 4 août 1996, un anniversaire qu’elle partageait avec la reine mère du Royaume-Uni, Elizabeth, qui avait six ans de plus. En 1999, Marie-José visita Florence pour recevoir la liberté de la ville et l’année suivante, elle reçut une invitation pour assister aux célébrations du 100e anniversaire de la reine Elizabeth à Londres. Malheureusement, elle était trop fragile pour accepter.
Reine Marie-José dans un âge avancé
Sa Majesté la Reine Marie-José d’Italie, Princesse de Belgique, est décédée le 27 janvier 2001 à l’Hôpital du Canton de Genève, à l’âge vénérable de 94 ans. Elle avait reconnu des membres de sa famille jusqu’à la fin. Lors de ses funérailles à l’Abbaye de Hautcombe, le 2 février, son cercueil, drapé avec le drapeau belge et les armes de sa chère Maison de Savoie, a été porté par des membres de la famille et des royalties européennes. Son cher chœur Alpini a chanté quelques chansons favorites et l’hymne sarde, ‘Conservat Deu Su Re Sardu’ (chanté à son mariage) a résonné dans l’Abbaye. C’est un témoignage de la personne que, au fil des ans, la Reine est toujours rappelée avec grande affection.
King Gustav V of Sweden was an avowed Germanophile, as was many 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. The latter’s cousin, Prince Maximilian von Baden, who died in 1929, was another influence. He had long emphasised to Gustav that Germany and Sweden had common interests against Russia. In 1915, during the Great War ‘Max’ even travelled to Drottningholm in an (ultimately futile) attempt to bring Sweden into the war on the German side. Another relative of the Swedish Queen, her second cousin Prince Victor of Wied was to serve as a counsellor in the German Legation in Stockholm between 1919-1922. In 1933, and by now a member of the National Socialist Workers’ Party, he returned to the Swedish capital in the powerful and influential post of German Minister. Wied-who was a friend of Hermann Göring-continued to foster relations between Sweden and Germany, not least through the King and members of the German and Swedish aristocracy, who were traditionally pro-German. It so happened that Göring’s Swedish first wife Carin, had been high-born. (Although she died in 1931, Carin would open up contacts on behalf of her husband which were still in use during World War 2.) It also helped that Gustav’s grandson (and heir-but-one to the Swedish throne) Gustav Adolf, had married the German Princess Sybilla of Coburg the previous year. Her English-born father, Charles Edward, the Duke of Coburg, was a staunch supporter of Hitler and the Nazi Regime and had contacts at the highest level in Berlin. He was also a friend of Victor of Wied. Unsurprisingly, in 1933, during a visit to Berlin, Gustav entertained the President of Germany and the newly-elected Chancellor, Adolf Hitler to lunch at the Swedish Legation. Meanwhile, in February 1939, the King paid another visit to Berlin, during which he conferred on Field Marshal Göring, a Commander Grand Cross of the Royal Order of the Sword, a distinguished Swedish military award.
King Gustav on a visit to Berlin with his grandson, Gustav Adolf. Field Marshal Göring in the centre.
King Gustav and his German-born wife, Queen Victoria.
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 latter had been at pains to reassure Günther that Sweden, unlike Norway and Denmark, 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 official telecommunications traffic. Of particular importance to the German war effort, deliveries of Swedish iron ore were to continue unhindered, with the mines to be 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 ‘affirming the intention of Sweden to maintain strictest neutrality and to resist the violation of Sweden’s frontiers by any powers.’ Hitler replied within days reaffirming Germany’s intention to respect Sweden’s neutrality unconditionally. But, as shall be seen, these words were merely diplomatic platitudes.
Gustaf V (centre) presides over a wartime Council of State meeting with Minister of Defence Per Edvin Sköld, Minister for Foreign Affairs Christian Günther, legal consultant Thorwald Bergquist and Minister of Justice Karl Gustaf Westman.
However, even as he signed his letter to Hitler, Gustav V was already dealing with several 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, who had recently invaded her homeland.
King Haakon (second left) and Crown Prince Olav (extreme left) run for cover as German Heinkel aircraft attack them in April 1940
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 mishandled 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”, after initially welcoming Märtha and her family to his home at Drottningholm (where an adjutant warned that the war was not to be discussed at the dinner table) eventually offered her accommodation at nearby Ulriksdal Palace. Interestingly, the move to his palace coincided with King Haakon learning that the Germans had informed the Administrative Council, an interim body appointed by the Norwegian Supreme Court to deal with matters of civil administration in Norway, that he should abdicate the throne. Furthermore, during this period the Crown Princess (who received little direct news of King Haakon and her husband Olav) was subject to constant political pressure to return to Norway with her son Prince Harald and cooperate with the occupying power by acting as Regent, of what would effectively be a puppet throne, until her son reached his majority. A number of prominent Norwegians who visited Stockholm advocated for such a solution. This idea also had its supporters within Per Albin Hansson’s Swedish government. For instance, the Swedish Justice Minister (and one-time Foreign Minister), Karl Westman, wrote in his diary as early as 19 June, mentioning his attendance at a government meeting: ‘I reiterated my question about why the friends of the Norwegian dynasty do not put the Norwegian crown princess and [prince] Harald on a plane and send them… to Oslo.’ He was writing this at a time when many Swedes believed that Märtha’s presence threatened to undermine Sweden’s neutrality when Germany was on the ascendance: Only a few days earlier German forces had entered Paris unopposed and the French were on the point of signing the surrender at Compiègne. Meanwhile, some Norwegians even harboured the-not unrealistic-suspicion that Prince Harald could be kidnapped and taken to Oslo by force.
King Gustav, meanwhile, was concerned to learn of the German’s desire to have King Haakon abdicate or even to depose the monarchy in Norway. He now chose to become personally involved and in a telegram to Hitler observed, ‘I consider it my duty to personally emphasize to you, Herr Reich Chancellor, that such a measure would elicit serious disapproval among the broadest circles of the Swedish people and throughout the whole of Scandinavia. I wish therefore, before irrevocable decisions are made by you, to draw your attention through this telegram…to urge you, Mr. Chancellor, to proceed with all the moderation that can be considered possible in relation to Norway, its king and people.’ Did he now fear for his own throne?
Rumours now began to circulate of a cipher telegram having been sent on 21 June by King Gustav to King Haakon to advise him to abdicate in favour of his grandson as ‘a means of saving the Norwegian people from unnecessary difficulties’. This led to confusion and it appears that the contents of King Gustav’s earlier telegram to Hitler was somehow misconstrued or misreported for, on 22 June the British Minister in Stockholm indicated that King Gustav had telegraphed Hitler directlypersonally recommending the Regency option to him. Thus, London (and the Crown Princess) now believed that Gustav was the principal protagonist in this “Norwegian Regency” matter. Indeed, such was the fury in London that it caused Britain’s King George VI to sit down and write a very stern letter to the Swedish King. Fortunately, this was not forwarded by the British Legation in Stockholm to King Gustav, when it became clear that in his earlier telegram to Hitler the meddling Swedish king had instead urged the Reich Chancellor to show the utmost possible moderation in his dealings over Norway. Some commentators have taken the view that Gustav intervened simply because he believed that if the matter was not resolved soon Germany would abolish the monarchy in Norway. Ironically, Hitler would interpret Gustav’s involvement as a Norwegian-inspired attempt to put pressure on Germany.
The Crown Princess of Norway and her children Ragnhild, Harald and Astrid in August 1940 as they travel through Finland en route to Petsamo.
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, with members of the legitimate Norwegian government) 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. King Gustav seemed displeased by this latest development and 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 for peace. 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.
A Swedish soldier watches over German troops being transported through Sweden in World War 2.
Meanwhile, as the above sagas were being played out, King Gustav was also faced with an even more pressing problem within days of the occupation of Norway: A German request to transport food rations, 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 including the transport of ‘furlough troops’ and ‘destroyer crews’. This was eventually expanded to ‘arms and troops’ by the end of June.
King Gustav and Per Albin Hansson 1941
However, the most debated was during the so-called midsummer crisis (Midsommarkrisen) in June 1941, when Germany-who had by now reached an accommodation with Finland and was planning an invasion of the Soviet Union (Operation Barbarossa)-asked to transport a battle-equipped division of military personnel belonging to the Wehrmacht’s 163rd Infantry Division from Oslo and through Sweden to Haparanda, near the Finnish-Swedish border in Northern Sweden, for further transportation eastward. The Swedish cabinet was divided on the issue and was initially against granting the request, on the basis that it was a violation of Sweden’s neutrality. Heated discussions took place throughout 23 and 24 June. However, the government executed a volte-face when the Swedish Prime Minister, Per Albin Hansson, indicated that King Gustav had informed him that he could not take responsibility for a negative answer and would abdicate unless Germany’s application was granted. He also informed his brother Eugen (who notably distanced himself from the Nazi regime) that the consequences of saying no to the Germans would be serious. Although Swedish historians have continued to debate whether their monarch really threatened to abdicate, it should be noted that on June 25, the Prince of Wied had a long conversation with King Gustav. The German Minister was subsequently pleased to inform the Foreign Ministry in Berlin that Gustav had ‘expressed his satisfaction that the principal German request for the transit of one division had been accepted by the State Council and who indicated his personal support in the matter.’ Indeed, Gustav himself would later reveal ‘that it had been owing only to his personal intervention that the question of the transportation in the summer of troops through Sweden had been settled in accordance with [German] wishes.’
King Gustav V with his family during World War 2. Crown Princess Louise (left), the King, Princess Sybilla with daughter Birgitta, Crown Prince Gustav Adolf with granddaughter Margaretha.
The same afternoon, the first of the trains left Oslo, crossing the border into Sweden early on 26 June, and heading northwards through Sweden en route to Finland and the Eastern Front. As the train arrived at Krylbo, 15 kilometres northwest of Stockholm, the Prince of Wied was present to inspect a guard of honour in the company of his wife. The main transport commenced on 27 June with around four trains crossing into Sweden each day. In total 15,449 German troops were transported by 12 July. Meanwhile, according to Sweden’s Expressen newspaper, over the ensuing wartime years 2,140,000 German soldiers and 100,000 tons of weapons and equipment would be transported through “neutral” Sweden. It should also be noted that on 29 June 1941 cooperation agreements were made between the Swedish and German air forces; as well as between the Swedish and Germany naval forces. Gustav would later indicate to the German Minister that is had only been due to his ‘personal intervention’ that in September 1941, the German 2nd Division, had been permitted to sail through Swedish territorial waters with a Swedish naval escort, en route north to the Eastern Front. The grateful Germans continued to push for more, with Sweden’s adherence to the Tripartite Pact even being mentioned at one stage.
German-born Princess Sybilla visits a German Hospital Train as it passes through Sweden in November 1941.
This period sees Gustav and some of his family at their most fawning where Germany is concerned. In November 1941, a smiling Princess Sibylla, with a German army officer at her side, was spotted serving coffee and cake to a group of wounded German soldiers, travelling homeward from Norway, at the Krylbo railway station. 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, currently an Obergruppenführer in the German Sturmabteilung (SA). In addition, in October 1941, four months after the German invasion of Soviet Russia, 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 Swedish 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 on 28 October and read the contents of 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: ‘The King wished quite frankly to express his warm thanks to the Fuhrer for having decided to crush this [Bolshevik] plague. The King asked that his heartiest congratulations be conveyed to the Fuhrer on the great success already achieved. At the same time the King gave assurances that by far the greater part of his people shared his views in this matter. His efforts and his activities would always be aimed at converting the doubters to his views. The King also added that he was very anxious for the preservation of good relations between Germany and Sweden.’ Gustav also asked the Prince of Wied ‘to treat the foregoing communication in special confidence so that it would not become known in public. ‘ As a second cousin of Gustav’s late wife, the King still treated the Prince ‘like family’ and he was invited on summer retreats until 1943. It is no wonder that Winston Churchill now viewed Gustav as being, ‘absolutely in the German grip.’ Hitler responded to Gustav’s message, on 7 December, ‘with sincere pleasure’ and particularly mentions ‘the very personal comforting personal attitude of Your Majesty…’ in appreciating the ‘historic action’ which Germany had taken in the war against Bolshevism.
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. Meanwhile, on one occasion, Hitler himself set the record straight, when in an interview with Stockholm Tidningen, in March 1944, he denied that he had made an approach to King Gustav, who had offered to mediate with Finland.
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 heavily dependent on Germany economically, including for her imports of necessities. 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 diminish and he appeared a little more accommodating, although cynics would say that was merely repositioning himself in preparation for an Allied victory. In advance of the Heads of Government Meeting at Tehran in November 1943 some-such as the Russian Foreign Minister Vyacheslav Molotov-were pressing for Sweden to abandon neutrality and fight with the Allies. However, the Swedish Minister in Moscow told the United States Ambassador to Soviet Russia, W. Averell Harriman, that while Sweden was ready to take ‘certain risks,’ his government was not ready to go very far and there was a regal reason :’He pointed out that it was the ambition of the King to lead his people through the war without the suffering that would come from participation.’ Meanwhile, around 7 million tons of iron ore were still being traded between Sweden and Germany in 1944.
As has been observed, Swedish wartime diplomacy sought to ward off German invasion by adopting a neutrality that sacrificed some of Sweden’s independence and made significant concessions to Germany, many backed by the King. Nonetheless, during this period, Gustav V 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. This examples a stronger stance than in 1933 when he apparently informed Hitler that the persecution of the Jews initiated by the Nazis would have a disastrous effect on Germany’s international reputation. The Chancellor should ‘proceed more gently.’
At the time of his 85th birthday in 1943 Gustav V made an interesting speech, which indicates his mindset during World War 2, “It is my firm opinion that a constitutional monarch under ordinary circumstances should not act as a leader in one direction or another except in exceptional cases. But during the current great world crisis, I have considered it my indisputable duty to try on several occasions to help the country out of the difficulties of the moment.” With these words, he acknowledges that he certainly had strayed in ‘one direction’ and that was certainly not in the direction of the Allies.
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 the early hours of 9 April, Crown Princess Märtha and her husband Olav were awakened by a phone call from an aide, bringing the devastating news of an invasion by German military forces. With her mind in a whirl, Märtha immediately awakened her three children, instructing them to dress for a mountain hike. Ragnhild, the eldest, would later recall that ‘the clearest sign that something was wrong was that it was our parents themselves who woke us up.’ After eating a hasty breakfast, at around 6 a.m. Märtha , Olav and their three children (Ragnhild, Astrid and Harald) set out from their home, some twenty kilometres to the west of Oslo, for the Royal Palace in central Oslo, in a convoy of three cars. The Crown Prince was at the wheel of his own car, his wife and children beside him. Olav-who was driving at great speed-had already decided that if anyone tried to stop him, he would run them down.
On arrival at the Royal Palace, everything was in a state of flux. The royal family departed the royal residence at 7 a.m. travelling in the direction of the Østbane railway station in order to take a special train to Hamar to avoid capture. The members of the Norwegian parliament, the Storting, were also on board the train. The group was led and organised by the President, Carl Joachim Hambro. It had been at his suggestion that the royal family accompanied the parliamentary group. Just as the train passed through Lillestrøm, the town was bombed, although the focus was fortunately on the nearby airport at Kjeller. The entourage travelled onwards towards Hamar with German soldiers and aircraft in hot pursuit.
By the early evening, the royal party 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 paratroops. This was a group led by the German Air Attache in Oslo, Captain Spiller, who was intent on seizing the King and his ministers by force. They did not reckon on the efforts of the Norwegian Colonel Otto Ruge and his men, many of whom had only completed their basic training, who manned a roadblock. Their heaviest weapon was one machine gun. Fighting tenaciously, they succeeded in mortally wounding Hiller and the Germans withdrew. Meanwhile, the King and others of the royal group immediately set out by car towards Elverum, to rendezvous with members of the government who had fled there from Hamar. It was also at Elverum that the Storting gave the King and government the authority to govern the country for as long as the war lasted (“The Elverum Mandate”). However, with so much uncertainty prevailing, a decision was made to send Crown Princess Märtha and the royal children over the border into neutral Sweden, for reasons of safety. Among those accompanying them were Olav’s trusted aide, Major Nicolai Ramm Østgaard (who would almost immediately return to his duties with the Crown Prince), his wife Ragni and their ten-year-old son Einar. Also in the royal entourage was Signe Svendsen, Prince Harald’s nurse; as well as Ragnhild and Martha’s Swedish governess Maja Thorén. Another Swedish national, the Crown Princess’s maid, Edla Norberg completed the party. The royal convoy, consisting of three cars, crossed the border into Sweden from Trysil at 00:50 hours on 10 April.
German troops parade down Karl Johan’s Gate with the Royal Palace in the background.
The events surrounding the party’s crossing into Sweden are the subject of debate. There are two versions:. In Brita Rosenberg’s biography of Princess Astrid, the latter recounts that Swedish border guards did not want to raise the border barrier and only did so at the last minute when their Norwegian driver indicated that he would drive straight through unless they did so.
Einar Østgaard, in his 2005 book about Crown Princess Märtha, which makes use of his father’s notes and journals, takes issue with this account: ‘The claim that Crown Princess Märtha was denied access to Sweden was printed for the first time over forty years after crossing the border on the night of 10 April 1940.’ He is of the opinion that this version must be due to a misremembering. The author also cites his mother Ragni, who served as the Crown Princess’s Lady-in-Waiting, later describing an undramatic border crossing: ‘None of us had passports, but at the Swedish border station, Nikko (her husband, Nikolai Østgaard) was out explaining who it was, and there was no difficulty in getting past.’
Either way, the convoy continued to the winter resort of Sälen to stay at the well-known Högfjällshotellet, arriving at half past three in the morning. As it was a glorious sunny day and the royal children spent most of the time skiing on the nearby slopes, while their anxious 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. On 10 April, the King had met with the German Minister Kurt Bräuer in the High School at Elverum. Bräuer set out the demands of his masters in Berlin: the legitimate Norwegian government must resign, and the King must appoint Vidkun Quisling of the right-wing Nasjonal Samling (National Unity) party as Norway’s Prime Minister and approve the formation of a pro-German government led by him. King Haakon subsequently presented these demands to officials of the legitimate Johan Nygaardsvold government during an extraordinary Council of State held in nearby Nybergsund (where they had relocated). The King made it clear that they must decide what course of action they wished to take, but added that he would not bow to these German demands and if the government decided to agree to them, he would abdicate. The government, in turn, fully backed the King. King Haakon’s “no” and the government’s approval thereof were formulated as a Royal Decree and signed by the King, the Prime Minister and Minister of State Bredo Rolsted. The Norwegian population were informed of the decision in a radio broadcast.
When the Germans learned of this decision (which was relayed by telephone to Bräuer at Eidsvoll by Foreign Minister Koht) , they were infuriated. The following day, Heinkel 111 bombers of the German Luftwaffe bombed both Elverum and Nybergsund, where the King and Crown Prince were sheltering, killing dozens of people. Crown Princess Märtha was subsequently relieved to learn from newly-arrived Norwegian guests at the hotel that, although shaken, both the King and Crown Prince Olav were uninjured. This news was corroborated by the hotel manager who had been in Nybergsund at the time of the attacks, in an attempt to obtain information on behalf of the Crown Princess. From first-hand reports carried in the Swedish press, it became clear that King Haakon was the key target. At one stage, he and his son Olav were forced to take shelter in a ditch to avoid being fired on by the low-flying Heinkel bombers.
Crown Prince Olav (to rear) and King Haakon literally run for their lives at Nybergsund 11 April 1940
An early visitor to Sälen was the Storting President Carl Joachim Hambro, who was en route to Stockholm. He recalls in his memoirs arriving in time for breakfast and apologising to the Crown Princess for ‘being so unkempt and not having had time to shave.’ Märtha, clearly having maintained her sense of humour merely laughed and replied, ‘Me neither.’ He brought with him a letter written by King Haakon at Nybergsund addressed to his sister (and Märtha’s mother) Princess Ingeborg. The latter arrived at the winter resort a few days later, visibly tired and looking somewhat older, according to Ragni Østgaard. Yet, Ingeborg was also ‘filled with a glowing hatred of the Germans’ for her homeland of Denmark had also recently been occupied. Märtha’s mother was also deeply concerned for the welfare of her brother, King Haakon (formerly Prince Carl of Denmark until his accession to the throne of Norway in 1905) and her son-in-law (and nephew) Olav.
Prince Harald photographed at Sälen
The Swedish authorities were by now growing increasingly nervous of the presence of Norwegian royalty in an area so close to the border. What if, they reasoned, the Germans accidentally bombed the hotel due to a “navigation error” or if a kidnapping attempt was made to seize the royal party? The Swedish county governor decided to act and asked the royal party leave the hotel. In order not to attract attention, on 18 April, the royals and their entourage departed in the middle of the night, and headed southwards by car (which almost upturned in a snow drift) towards Uppsala. Thanks to Princess Ingeborg making use of family connections, it was arranged that the royal party could take temporary residence at Count Carl Bernadotte of Wisborg’s home at Rasbo. They would remain there for ten days, before proceeding to Stockholm and Drottningholm Palace.
At Drottningholm, King Gustav proved to be welcoming host but made it clear, through an adjutant, that there would be no discussion of the war at the dinner table. This was interesting, as otherwise Gustav had taken a keen interest in developments throughout Europe, with maps spread out over a billiard table nearby. However, it was noticeable that there was none pertaining to Norway. This particular map had been removed, prior to the arrival of the Norwegian contingent, perhaps out of tact. The Crown Princess tried to distract herself with games of gin rummy and bridge. Meanwhile Norwegians in Sweden were told not to openly celebrate their National Day on 17 May.
So how did the Crown Princess now continue to obtain news of what was happening across the border? Märtha acquired a quality radio set and each evening she and Ragni Østgaard would listen to the late night news bulletin from London. Perhaps Märtha even managed to tune in to the National Day service broadcast from the Norwegian Seamen’s Church in London, as King Haakon and Crown Prince Olav managed to do in a holiday chalet in Northern Norway? She also had the services of the Norwegian diplomat Jen Bull, who acted as a liaison between Märtha and the Norwegian Legation in Stockholm. Bull had previously served (1925-1931) as a Counsellor in the Norwegian legation in Berlin, rising to the rank of Under-Secretary of State at the Foreign Office in Oslo in 1939.
In due course, the Crown Princess was informed that King Haakon and Crown Prince Olav had departed Norway (from Tromsø) on the evening of 7 June, following a cabinet meeting held in the Bishop’s Palace, in order to continue the fight from Norwegian democracy from London. The war in Norway aside, Crown Prince Olav’s chief concern was now for the safety of his children and wife in Sweden. He had written to President Franklin D Roosevelt from Trangen, Langvatnet, as early as 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.
After observing the 82nd birthday celebrations for ‘Uncle Gustav’ the previous day at Drottningholm, on 17 June, the Crown Princess and her children moved to Ulriksdal Palace. This allowed for some more privacy, and the children were able to relax with games, picnics and boating on the inlet. Furthermore, young Harald took the opportunity to learn to swim under the instruction of Signe Svendsen. Nonetheless, there was always a watchful Swedish policeman in attendance. Interestingly, the move to Ulriksdal coincided with King Haakon learning that the Germans had informed the Administrative Council, an interim body appointed by the Norwegian Supreme Court to deal with matters of civil administration in Norway, that he should abdicate the throne. This move on the part of the German occupiers seems to have hit a raw nerve with King Gustav of Sweden who, most unusually, became involved, sending a telegram to Adolf Hitler stating that ‘I consider it my duty to personally emphasize to you, Herr Reich Chancellor, that such a measure would elicit serious disapproval among the broadest circles of the Swedish people and throughout the whole of Scandinavia. I wish therefore, before irrevocable decisions are made by you, to draw your attention through this telegram…to urge you, Mr. Chancellor, to proceed with all the moderation that can be considered possible in relation to Norway, its king and people.’ Did he now fear for his own throne?
The sitting room at Ulriksdal Palace much as it was in 1940.
In the interim, Berlin had appointed Josef Terboven as Reichskommissar in Norway. Despite the initial refusal of the Administrative Council to comply with the abdication request, negotiations were continuing with Terboven, who was currently focused on the formulation of a future political framework for use in Norway during the occupation. Furthermore, despite King Gustav’s aforementioned telegram, there was a genuine possibility that a powerful Germany, aided by sympathetic Norwegians, could, if necessary, use leverage against Sweden, both diplomatically, economically, and militarily, to arrange for Märtha to be returned to Norway with her son and a Regency formed until Harald came of age. A number of prominent Norwegians who visited Stockholm advocated for such a solution. This idea also had its supporters within Per Albin Hansson’s Swedish government. For instance, the Swedish Justice Minister (and one-time Foreign Minister), Karl Westman, wrote in his diary as early as 19 June, mentioning his attendance at a government meeting: ‘I reiterated my question about why the friends of the Norwegian dynasty do not put the Norwegian crown princess and [prince] Harald on a plane and send them… to Oslo.’ He was writing this at a time when many Swedes believed that Märtha’s presence threatened to undermine Sweden’s neutrality when Germany was on the ascendance: Only a few days earlier German forces had entered Paris unopposed and the French were on the point of signing the surrender at Compiègne. Time Magazine would subsequently report that Crown Princess Märtha had indeed been offered ‘a regency in the name of her son, Prince Harald.’ Meanwhile, some Norwegians even harboured the-not unrealistic-suspicion that Prince Harald could be kidnapped and taken to Oslo by force.
On 27 June, the Presidential Council of the Storting, under pressure from the occupiers and recognising the need to establish a provisional government, responded tentatively to Josef Terboven’s proposal to establish a Council of the Realm to act as a collaborative body with the occupiers. In order to progress matters, they now asked the King to abdicate, giving him until 12 July to ‘renounce his constitutional functions for himself and his house.’ However, King Haakon refused to comply and, on 8 July, announced his rejection of the abdication request via a BBC radio broadcast from London, as well as formally placing his response in writing. What would this mean for the future of Norway and the monarchy going forward?
In Stockholm, Märtha, under the impression that her Swedish family (i.e. King Gustav) and Hitler were conspiring to remove King Haakon and set up a Regency, was feeling the pressure and sent a telegram to London as early as 24 June warning her husband that attempts were being made to ‘induce her’ to return with her three children to Oslo. Indeed, rumours had been circulating of a cipher telegram having been sent on 21 June by King Gustav to King Haakon to advise him to abdicate in favour of his grandson as ‘a means of saving the Norwegian people from unnecessary difficulties’. It also appears that the contents of King Gustav’s earlier telegram to Hitler may have been misconstrued or misreported for, on 22 June the British Minister in Stockholm indicated that King Gustav had telegraphed Hitler directly personally recommending the Regency option to him. Thus, London (and the Crown Princess) now believed that Gustav was the principal protagonist in this matter. Indeed, such was the fury in London that it caused Britain’s King George VI to sit down and write a very stern letter to the Swedish King. Fortunately, this was not forwarded by the British Legation in Stockholm to King Gustav, when it became clear that the meddling Swedish king had instead urged Hitler to show the utmost possible moderation in his dealings over Norway. Some commentators have taken the view that Gustav intervened simply because he believed that if the matter was not resolved soon Germany would abolish the monarchy in Norway.
Despite the strong political pressure placed on her, according to Einar Østgaard’s book, Crown Princess Märtha did not particularly want to travel to the United States. However, King Haakon and Crown Prince Olav, fearing for Märtha and the children’s safety, seemed keen that this should happen. In late June, the Crown Prince had written again to President Roosevelt from Buckingham Palace pressing 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.
On 17 July, the Norwegian Government-in-exile addressed a letter to the Storting Presidential Council, in which cautious appreciation of the work done by the Administrative Council was combined with a plain warning that ‘everything which is agreed or done at this time in respect of government in Norway must have the clear stamp of temporariness, if nothing is to be lost for the future of the country.’
On 18 July, Märtha received a telephone call from the Norwegian Minister in Washington, Wilhelm Thorleif von Munthe af Morgenstierne. He informed a somewhat nonplussed Crown Princess (who seems to have been in the dark about Crown Prince Olav’s recent correspondence with Roosevelt) that an American warship was being sent to Finland to transport her and her children to the United States. But would she go? On 20 July, Märtha received the US Minister to Norway, Mrs Florence Harriman, who was now ensconced temporarily at the United States Legation in Stockholm. Having had time to reflect on the efforts being made on her and her children’s behalf, both in London and Washington, the Crown Princess indicated to the American that she would be happy to accept President Roosevelt’s kind offer. Nevertheless, Märtha was keen to emphasise that she wanted to enter the United States ‘as quietly as possible’ and that she ‘would not be required to meet reporters or a reception committee’. Naively, the Crown Princess even expressed the hope that the date of her arrival should be kept confidential. King Gustav, on hearing of the “American plan”, 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, who deeply resented Gustav’s meddling, was quick to dismiss. Some sources also have Crown Princess Märtha and “Uncle Gustav” having a robust exchange of views on this matter in Stockholm.
However, events were already moving apace. On 22 July, Mrs Harriman had been 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 United States could be kept confidential. Indeed, just as Märtha was setting off from Ulriksdal Palace, 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.
That same day, the Norwegian party departed Stockholm’s Central Station. Both Märtha’s father, Prince Carl and Princess Ingeborg were distressed to take leave of their beloved daughter and grandchildren. Princess Ingeborg presented Märtha with a case of jewels, including the emerald tiara that had once belonged to Empress Joséphine, the wife of Napoléon Bonaparte. This was a form of financial insurance in difficult times. King Gustav also came to the station to see them off, despite his grave reservations. They were, after all, his relations too. The plan was for the Norwegian royal party to travel by train to Haparanda, on the Swedish/ Norwegian border, with the rest of the journey, through Finland, being undertaken by cars provided by the Finnish authorities. The local Haparanda newspaper Haparandabladet soon reported on the Crown Princess’s arrival there, prior to her setting off on the second stage of the journey northwards to Petsamo. This second stage was undertaken in a convoy of four vehicles and included stops and overnight stays in Rovaniemi and Inari (Enare). A Finnish military officer, Major Carl Gustaf Wahren, accompanied the royal entourage and was responsible for security. He very kindly allowed the amiable Swedish policeman Artur Pfeiffer, with whom the children had developed a good relationship since their arrival in Stockholm, to accompany the party on this Finnish leg of their journey. Petsamo was reached on 15 August.
The Crown Princess and her children in Finland en route to Petsamo, 13-15 August 1940
The Crown Princess and her children now joined the nine hundred passengers, mostly United States citizens, aboard the American Legion, bound for New York. Märtha appeared on the ship’s manifest as “Mrs Jones” and was given the use of the Captain’s cabin. Others in the royal party included the Crown Princess’s Chief of Staff, Peder Anker Wedel Jarlsberg; Lady-in-Waiting, Mrs Ragni Østgaard; the latter’s son Einar and Prince Harald’s nurse, Signe Svendsen. Touchingly, Harald was pictured clutching his beloved teddy bear. Yet, the Norwegian royal party were still very much in danger. Germany refused to guarantee the ship safe conduct and according to Time Magazine, in a ruthless last-minute display of audacity, had tried to delay the sailing with a dispute over the route. It was said that the Germans preferred a more northern passage where the American Legion could be waylaid by a submarine, and Martha and her son kidnapped.
Meanwhile, King Haakon broadcast to the Norwegian people on 26 August, informing them ‘to avoid everything which is inconsistent with our national dignity; remain Norwegian in mind and thought…’ A majority of the Storting members in Oslo eventually voted for the suspension of the monarchy rather than acceptance of the original German demand for the abdication or deposing of the Royal House and negotiations continued. However, Terboven, keen to stamp his authority, eventually abandoned plans for a Council of the Realm. On 25 September 1940, he proclaimed the abolition of the monarchy, the deposition of the Nygaardsvold government, and the dissolution of all political parties with the exception of the Nasjonal Samling. Furthermore, he also terminated the activities of the Administrative Council and set up a body of pro-German personalities and power rested, for the moment, with the Reichskommissariat.
Despite all the melodrama of the last few months, the Crown Princess and her entourage finally sailed into New York on 28 August. She and her three children would eventually settle in a largish brick house set in substantial grounds in Pook’s Hill, Maryland. Märtha would soon become part of President’s Roosevelt’s inner circle and was thus ideally placed to obtain first-hand knowledge of the comings and goings at the White House and in Washington’s political circles. She was also able to use her position to advance Norway’s cause in the United States.
The Crown Princess and her family arrive in New York 28 August 1940
In Mid-April 1945, King Haakon and Crown Prince Olav remained in exile in England, where they had sought refuge following the German occupation of Norway in 1940. However, with the collapse of the Third Reich now imminent, Olav thought it expedient to inform his wife, Crown Princess Märtha who, with their three children, Ragnhild, Astrid and Harald, had taken refuge in the United States, that they must be prepared to travel from their wartime home in Washington D.C. to Europe at short notice.
Crown Princess Märtha and her children Harald, Astrid and Ragnhild at their wartime home Pooks Hill, near Washington D.C.
According to one source, the Crown Princess learned of the German surrender in May from the Norwegian Consul-General of Norway, Christensen, following her arrival by train in New York. However, Princess Astrid would recall it differently, stating that it was she who first heard the news of the German capitulation in Europe over the radio at the family’s residence, causing her to shout out, ‘We are free. We are free!’ Her mother, the Crown Princess, was nearby and asked if any specific mention had been made of Norway. Unfortunately, Astrid had been so caught up in the excitement of the moment, that she had rushed out of the room without hearing the final details of the broadcast! Fortunately, the Norwegian Foreign Minister Trygve Lie, who was also in Washington, called to confirm the good news. He was due to fly to Britain and asked the Crown Princess if she wanted to come too, so that she might have the chance to meet Crown Prince Olav, before he departed for Norway. Naturally she agreed. But of necessity, the reunion, which took place in Edinburgh, on 11 May, was short but sweet!
Ragnhild, Astrid and Harald set out for England on 20 May. In the United States, following the initial burst of publicity upon their arrival from Europe in August 1940, the children had not been subjected to the same intrusiveness as would have been the case in Norway. Princess Astrid recalls that ‘Over there we were just Ragnhild, Astrid and Harald. There wasn’t much talk about princes and princesses.’ Nonetheless, there was great excitement that the journey back to Europe would be by air, rather than by sea, quite a novel thing at the time. As a precaution, Ragnhild and Astrid flew in one plane accompanied by the Court Marshal, Baron Wedel Jarlsberg; while Harald travelled separately with the Crown Princess’s Lady-in-Waiting, Ragni Østgaard and her son Einer. The aeroplanes were of course far from luxurious, having mostly been used for the transport of military personnel.
While the princesses were keen to return to their homeland, Harald (who was aged only three when he arrived in the US) was confused, as he would recall some sixty years later: ‘Everyone was talking about how we were going home now. I was the only one who was going to do the opposite; I was going to leave my home. I didn’t remember anything from Norway; I didn’t know of any other home other than Pooks Hill.’
After a stopover at Gander in Newfoundland, the royal transports landed in Scotland the following afternoon. Before the day’s end, the royal children were travelling southwards by train for an emotional reunion with King Haakon (‘Farfar’), at his current home, Foliejon Park in Berkshire. They had not met for five years. Inevitably, as Harald had only been three when they parted company on 9 April 1940, he remembered little, if anything, of the venerable gentleman with the Danish accent. However, there was to be no meeting, for the moment, with Crown Prince Olav, who had arrived home in Oslo on 13 May, to a warm welcome from cheering crowds.
After a few weeks in England, the Norwegian Royal Family departed London’s King’s Cross Station, on the evening of 4 June, aboard the night sleeper train to Edinburgh. King Haakon (accompanied by the Crown Princess) had earlier lunched with his nephew, King George VI, and his wife Queen Elizabeth, at Buckingham Palace to thank them for their hospitality over the years. Haakon also recorded a message of thanks to the British people from the BBC headquarters, Broadcasting House.
King Haakon emaks HMS Norfolk near Edinburgh 5 June 1945
In the early afternoon of 5 June, amid considerable ceremony, the royal party boarded the British cruiser and flagship of the 1st Cruiser Squadron, HMS Norfolk, at Rosyth Dockyard. The Norwegian Royal Standard-a rampant gold lion on a red background-was hoisted from the mainmast as soon as the King set foot on the gangplank; while the Royal Marine band played the Norwegian National Anthem. Vice-Admiral Rhoderick McGrigor was waiting to greet the King and the other members of the Royal Party. HMS Norfolk was escorted throughout the crossing by HMS Devonshire, the vessel which had transported King Haakon, Crown Prince Olav and the Norwegian government over to exile in Britain almost five years earlier. Other ships in the convoy included the Royal Navy O-class destroyers HMS Offa, HMS Onslow and HMS Orwell, as well as the Royal Norwegian Navy S-Class destroyer, HNoMS Stord.
The following day, 6 June, the weather was bad, with a strong breeze and heavy rain. King Haakon spent the whole day on the command bridge and suddenly, at around six o’clock, land was sighted: Lista, the southern most tip of Norway. Prince Harald ran to where his mother and his sisters were sitting, and received a confirming answer when he shouted ‘Is it Norway, Mother?’ Princess Astrid remembers that ‘Grandfather was anxious and wondered what the homecoming would be like. How would the people receive him?’
King Haakon takes the salute with his son Crown Prince Olav. Behind are Crown Princess Märtha, Princess Ragnhild and Prince Harald. Princess Astrid is obscured behind her father.
King Haakon landed in Oslo, at 12 midday on 7 June, exactly five years to the day since he departed Tromsø for exile in Britain to carry on the fight against Germany. This was also the 40th anniversary of the famous vote in the Storting [Parliament] which dissolved the union between Norway and Sweden. Crown Prince Olav came aboard HMS Norfolk at Spro and must have been somewhat startled at the sight of his three children dressed in oversize duffle coats (borrowed from the crew) against the biting winds. Indeed, Princess Astrid remembered that the weather was so bad at times that those on board could not see the land. However, soon small craft were spotted, decorated with foliage and flags, coming almost alongside in greeting as the vessel progressed up the Oslofjord. The duffle coats were soon swapped for “Sunday Best” clothing for the welcome home festivities in Oslo. Three hundred thousand people (other sources state 500,000) were said to have lined the Oslofjord. Ships in the harbour blew their whistles and let-off star shells.
Once the ship had reached its destination, the sun broke through the clouds and the King and his family disembarked and were transported by launch to the Honnørbryggen quayside, near to Akerhus Fortress, to shake hands with the official welcoming party, which included Paal Berg, leader of the resistance movement, as well as General Thorne, who had formally held sovereignty of Norway following the German surrender. The latter is said to have greeted the King with the words, ‘Sir, I return to you your Kingdom.’ The King straightened his back and strode purposefully down the red carpet to a waiting pavilion decked out with flags bearing the royal insignia. His Majesty inspected a Guard of Honour formed from, among others, newly arrived British and American military contingents. The Oslo City Hall provided a fitting backdrop. The Crown Prince and Crown Princess and their children (who were noticeably mesmerised by the fuss) followed on close behind. Thousands shouted out ‘God Save the King.’ A band played the National Anthem. Later, all-night parties were held along the Oslofjord. King Haakon, was ‘deeply moved by the warm welcome of all the people.’ It was clear that years of oppression had given the Norwegians a desire to express themselves.
In a speech King Haakon explained to the assembled crowds, ‘The day we decided we had to leave the country was a grim and sombre day. We understood that if we remained here, we would be captured and, as prisoners, would no longer represent a free Norway. It was on that basis that we deemed it necessary to continue the struggle for Norway’s freedom abroad.’
‘The years were long. I do not deny that, and many times it may have looked very dark for many of you’
‘That we should return on the anniversary of the day when Norwegians regained their freedom and independence is for me a sign that we shall succeed in carrying out our future tasks to the benefit of our country.’ King Haakon added.
He concluded, ‘But in this time of rejoicing, we must not forget that we have a great and difficult task ahead of us to achieve what we wish to build here in our land: a free and benevolent society for the good people of Norway.’
Princess Astrid further recalls that ‘When we drove up to the Palace, it was heart-warming to see the Royal Court staff members, who had been there when we left, standing in the open windows of the Palace to welcome us home. All of our friends, whom we had not seen in five long years, were also standing there. They had been brought to the Palace to greet us, and that was very emotional.’
King Haakon and Crown Princess Märtha drive through the streets of Oslo on 7 June. Note the presence of bodyguards and outriders.
That evening, the royal family appeared on the Royal Palace balcony before a crowd estimated at 100,000. The royal family did not retire until 12.30am, following a wonderful firework display which featured a stylised monogram H7 (for Haakon VII). Prince Harald would also later recall running from room to room of the vast palace, even encountering a room full of chambermaids enjoying their repast.
The following night, a gala performance took place at the National Theatre, at the close of which a leading actor recited Nordahl Grieg’s poem ‘The King’- a patriotic tribute inspired by the experiences which the people and the monarch had shared during the campaign in 1940. This was clandestinely brought into circulation throughout Norway not long before the author lost his life in a bombing raid over Berlin with the R.A.A.F in December 1943.
The task of dismantling the German presence in Norway was now underway, as was the need to form of a new government and deal with the minority who had thrown in their lot with the Germans. On a more personal level, both the Royal Palace and Skaugum, the home of the Crown Princely couple, had suffered from the ravages of war. The former was described as ‘a shambles’, with the late Queen Maud’s sitting room having been used as an office by the traitor, Quisling. The Royal Chapel and Great Banqueting Hall had been turned into storage rooms. Meanwhile, the contents of Skaugum were either damaged or subsequently located at a storage facility. The house had, throughout the occupation, been the residence of the Nazi Reich Commissioner, Josef Terboven. He had recently committed suicide by blowing himself up in a bunker in the grounds. It would take several months to put these residences into a serviceable condition. Although originally the family had stayed the first couple of nights at the Palace, they soon relocated to the royal summer home on the Bygdøy peninsula (which had also been taken over by the Germans), where they would remain until the autumn.
Another trial initially, especially for Prince Harald, was adjusting to life at a Norwegian school, for he spoke and understood English far better than Norwegian at this time. Nonetheless, he would now become the first Hereditary Prince to attend a regular public school.
King Haakon and Crown Prince Olav would work side-by-side during the post-war years in their quest to help rebuild a country ravaged by war. The Crown Princess once again took up her charitable duties as the first lady of Norway. A strong foundation was thus formed for the future of the royal family.
Return to royal duties: The Crown Prince and Crown Princess of Norway visit Trondheim in October 1945
On 13 May 1945, Crown Prince Olav arrived in Norway aboard the British cruiser ”Apollo”, the cheers of a crowd of several hundred thousand people ringing in his ears as he stepped ashore at Honnørbryggen in Oslo. Olav was anxious to speak to the general public assembled:
‘Five years ago, we left the country, but we knew that in the end, justice would prevail over evil. There was never any doubt that Norway would one day be free again.’
One biographer observed ‘Crown Prince Olav’s return and triumphal procession through the jubilant sea of people has been described as ‘a shining moment that no one who experienced it would ever forget. It is what the poets call “a starry moment in the life of the nation.”‘
The Crown Prince was then transported atop the back seat of the open-topped AI registration Buick royal limousine (so recently used by the Germans) through the streets of Oslo with the resistance fighter Max Manus acting as his bodyguard, rifle in hand-just in case! Manus looked particularly anxious as they progressed up the Karl Johan thoroughfare, and he had good reason to be, for not all of the Germans in the city had yet been disarmed. Indeed, word of Olav’s return had been kept secret until only a few hours earlier for security reasons.
Crown Prince Olav drives through Oslo with his armed bodyguard watching for German sharpshooters!
To add to the sense of uncertainty, only a few days earlier the Reichskommissar Josef Terboven, who had recently been relieved of his post by General Franz Böhme, had committed suicide at the Crown Prince’s Skaugum estate (which he had occupied during the occupation) by detonating 50 kilos of dynamite. He would not be alone.
For the Crown Prince personally, it was one of the strongest experiences of his life. He felt an intense boundless joy, a joy he got to share with an entire people. ‘That day I felt privileged and rich. I understood how lucky we had been and how much I had to be thankful for.’
Scenes in Karl Johan Gate on 8 May as the people of Oslo celebrate VE Day.
So much happened in these eventful May days. Indeed, the period was recently described by Aftenposten by historian Guri Hjeltnes ‘Lifting the lid off a pressure cooker.’ The local population were initially warned that ‘The enemy has now capitulated [in fact they had not yet formally surrendered], and soon we will be completely masters of the country. But remember: capitulation is not the same as peace. The enemy still has weapons.’
The traitor Quisling was arrested and imprisoned on his arrival at the main police station in Oslo. Norwegian police-who had been trained in Sweden during the war-had only arrived in the capital as recently as 10 May, armed with lists of potential traitors collated from information gathered from Norwegian refugees. Germany had forces in Norway during World War 2 estimated at between 300,000 and 350,000; while other sources state that at their peak, in the autumn of 1943, 380,000 had occupied the country.
On 11 May, Terje Rollem of Milorg [abbreviation of militær organisasjon], the Norwegian resistance movement, received the formal surrender of the German forces at Akershus Fortress. Norwegian home forces partly kept watch together with German soldiers in the first period after the capitulation, with German officers allowed to carry their pistols. These officers were now tasked with keeping order and discipline within their units. They were subsequently interred in camps.
As part of the Crown Prince’s party were the Norwegian Armed Forces High Command and a government delegation of five ministers led by Oscar Trop. Also arriving on that day was the British General, Andrew Thorne, who would be responsible for the Allied dismantling of the occupation rule, although he was answerable to General Eisenhower. British and American soldiers (initially only a few thousand but rising to thirty thousand) joined with Norwegian forces to achieve this. Storting President Hambro and Prime Minister Nygaardsvold accompanied by the rest of the Norwegian government-in-exile, who had been based in London, returned to Oslo on 31 May aboard the ship “Andes”.
British troops arrive in Oslo to be greeted by grateful locals. They were vastly outnumbered by the former occupying forces, many of whom remained armed.
On 14 May, Crown Prince Olav received the resignation of the Home Front government, which in had only been in place for around a week, at the Royal Palace; while on 17 May, Norway’s National Day was celebrated for the first time in six years, with huge crowds gathering throughout Oslo city centre (including the Royal Palace and the City Hall). Meanwhile, a week later, some 400 students who had been sent to camps in Germany arrived home.
Crown Prince Olav presides over the Children’s Parade at the Royal Palace on National Day 17 May 1945
One who never forgot the Crown Princes’s return had been a fisherman who was out in his boat at Sonsodden, when he suddenly discovered, much to his surprise that he was right in the path of three large warships which were advancing towards him. He put the engine in neutral and drifted up alongside the ships. One cruiser, the Apollo was displaying the royal flag on the stern mast. On the low aft deck the fisherman spotted someone he soon recognised as Crown Prince Olav. The man took off his hat and exclaimed, ‘Welcome home, Crown Prince!’ A smiling Olav replied, ‘Thank you very much.’
As they emerged onto the balcony of Buckingham Palace on 8 May (Victory in Europe Day, foreshortened to VE Day) to receive a tumultuous accolade from the British people, the King and Queen had every reason to reflect on a job well done. Together they had shared the trials and hardships of their subjects: Buckingham Palace alone was attacked on six occasions by enemy bombers; the chapel destroyed and the Queen’s private apartments wrecked by a bomb hit. Furthermore, there was hardly a window left in the cavernous building where repairs were largely piecemeal until the relevant building materials became available again.
Winston Churchill joins the King and Queen and the Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret on VE Day
As VE day was a Tuesday, the King had lunched as usual with Churchill at the Palace and they ‘congratulated each other on the end of the European War.’ The King further confided to his diary, ‘No more fear of being bombed at home & no more living in air-raid shelters.’ It is worth remembering that as recently as 27 March, London had received a hit from a V2 rocket. These lethal machines caused around 2700 deaths in that city alone.
The King, in particular, was also still deeply affected by the death of President Roosevelt only a few weeks previously, noting ‘ I had hoped that the Roosevelts would have paid us a visit here this summer, but it cannot be.’ Both the King and Queen had attended a Memorial Service in St Paul’s Cathedral on 17 April.
The real countdown to VE Day began on 4 May, when the King and Queen received the ‘wonderful news’ via telephone from Winston Churchill himself, that all enemy forces in the Netherlands, North-West Germany and Denmark had surrendered. The following afternoon the King was informed that General Eisenhower was expecting to receive a delegation of German top brass and soon hoped to arrange the final surrender of all German land forces. The Allied Supreme Commander anticipated he would be in a position to report to the three Allied governments by Sunday evening, 6 May, that hostilities were over. The King and Queen therefore returned to London on that day from Windsor in anticipation of Victory in Europe being officially celebrated the following day, 7 May; this was also the date the King anticipated giving his Victory speech over the radio. The sight of loud speakers and floodlights being put into place along the Mall did little to dissuade the royal couple from believing that peace was only hours away. Their Majesties were, meanwhile, buoyed up by the news that the King’s nephew George Harewood and the Queen’s nephew John Elphinstone had been ‘safely picked up’ from their German prisoner-of-war camp by the US 7th Army and were now in Paris, awaiting a flight to London.
However, the VE Day arrangements did not quite go to plan, as the Germans were stalling signing the surrender documents in an attempt to allow as many as possible of their people to flee west to escape the Russians. Finally, at 2.41 am on the morning of 7 May the first instrument of unconditional surrender of all the German forces was signed in a schoolhouse in Rheims by Admiral Doenitz (the successor to Hitler who had committed suicide on 30 April). The cessation of hostilities was agreed for 8 May. As the public waited throughout 7 May for an official announcement, a fair size crowd amassed in front of the Palace in the vain hope of seeing the King and Queen. Following an evening cabinet meeting, it was announced over the radio at 9pm that Mr Churchill would broadcast to the nation at 3.00 pm the following day, 8 May. This was to be celebrated as VE Day.
The King and Queen and the Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret on the Palace balcony.
Following the Prime Ministers’ broadcast on 8 May, crowds started to gather on the streets of London, Piccadilly Circus and Buckingham Palace being particular points of focus. The King had kept busy, holding an investiture earlier in the day. It was only following Churchill’s broadcast that the King and his family first appeared on the balcony. Meanwhile, short services were taking place hourly in Westminster Abbey. The ovation accorded the King and Queen during that first appearance on the Palace balcony with the Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret, was tremendous. All were visibly moved.
The King makes his VE day speech 8 May 1945
At 9 pm it was the turn of the King to take to the airwaves. He had worked hard on this speech for some time, with the help of his Private Secretary, Sir Alan Lascelles and further input from Winston Churchill. He spoke of the fallen: ‘Those who will not come back, their constancy and courage in battle, their sacrifice and endurance in the face of a merciless enemy’; and of those who would return-‘the great host of the living who have brought us victory’; and asked his listeners ‘on this day of just triumph and proud sorrow’ to return to their work again ..’and to make the world such a world as they [who died for us] would have desired, for their children and for ours.’
The King and the Queen continued to be called onto the balcony by the crowds outside the Palace and would later note that ‘we went out 8 times altogether during the afternoon and evening. We were given a great reception.’ In between the various balcony appearances, the King had held audiences with the War Cabinet and the Chiefs of Staff. His Majesty was at his most ebullient when he told them, ‘You have brought this country-I may say you have brought the whole world-out of deadly peril into complete victory.’ It was after midnight when the King and Queen made their final appearance together on the balcony, the princesses Elizabeth and Margaret having been permitted by the King to leave the Palace and enjoy the atmosphere on the surrounding area of St James Street and Piccadilly. They both cheered their parents on the balcony from outside the railings of the Palace, having previously sent in word, through an aide, that they were patiently waiting there.
Nonetheless, the King was far from complacent, noting in his diary, ‘But there is still Japan to be defeated and the restoration of our country to be dealt with, which will give us many headaches & hard work in the coming years.’ Furthermore, the royal couple were both tired and exhausted from five-and-a-half years of constant strain during which the King had left Britain on five occasions to make trips to his troops in the field, including a never-to-be-forgotten day trip to the besieged, bombed, battered but brave island of Malta which was awarded the George Cross ‘For Valour’. In Britain, together or separately, they had visited hundreds of factories, toured bomb sites, visited air stations and naval docks and narrowly escaped being killed by a V2 rocket!
Yet still there was to be no respite for them. On both 9 and 10 May the King and Queen undertook State Drives through the North East and South East of London. The crowds remained thick on the ground; thus, over several evenings, Their Majesties were again summoned onto the balcony of the Palace. On 13 May, the King and Queen were joined by Queen Mary (who came up from her wartime home at Badminton) and their daughters at a National Service of Thanksgiving held in St Paul’s Cathedral during which the Archbishop of Canterbury urged ‘united discipline and hard endeavour’ to help overcome post-war problems. Many of the foreign royalties still remaining in London also attended, having lunched beforehand with King and Queen at the Palace. Their Majesties then travelled overnight to Scotland for a similar service at St Giles Cathedral in Edinburgh on 16 May.
The King and Queen return to Buckingham Palace following the Thanksgiving Service at St Paul’s Cathedral.
After earlierreceiving ‘loyal addresses’ from both Houses of Parliament, the King made his response in the Royal Gallery on 17 May, during which he happily acknowledged the fortitude and courage of the British people in wartime. However, his focus was also very much on his ‘helpmeet’, the Queen. He observed, ‘I have done my best to discharge my royal duty as the constitutional sovereign of a free people, and in this task I have been unceasingly helped by the Queen, whose deep and active sympathy for all my subjects in pain or peril and whose intense resolve for victory has comforted my heart never more than in our darkest hours.’ The King’s Private Secretary, Sir Alan Lascelles, thought the event ‘a great triumph’ for the Sovereign. Churchill led those attending in ‘three cheers’ as the King departed.
On 24 May, an Empire Day Garden Party for 1,750 returned military men and Red Cross volunteers was held on the lawns of the Palace. Thereafter, the King and Queen travelled to Balmoral for a short break, returning to London at the beginning of June. His Majesty reflected in his diary that, ‘We have been overwhelmed by the kind things people have said over our part in the War. We have only tried to do our duty during these 51/2 years.’
The work continues: The King and Queen and Princess Elizabeth visit Belfast in July 1945.
In late July 1941, Prince George, the Duke of Kent and youngest brother of King George VI commenced a six-week visit to Canada primarily, but not exclusively, to visit airfields which formed part of the British Commonwealth Air Training Plan (BCATP). The scheme which drew personnel from Britain, Canada, Australia and New Zealand-and was expanded following the fall of France in June 1940-would ultimately be responsible for the training of an estimated 131,553 Allied aircrew. Most of the training was undertaken in Canada and required the building of new air bases or the upgrading of existing facilities throughout the Dominion. The scheme was administered by the Canadian government and Royal Canadian Air Force (RCAF) with input from the Royal Air Force (RAF). His Royal Highness was accompanied for much of the trip by his Private Secretary, Lieutenant John Lowther, as well as Flight Lieutenant P.J. Ferguson and Group Captain Sir Louis Greig. The latter was a courtier of many years standing, as well as a friend of King George VI. Greig was currently assigned to the Air Ministry. Also in the party were the Duke’s valet and a Scotland Yard detective, Inspector Evans. Wartime restrictions meant that Prince George was permitted to take only two suitcases and a haversack with him for the long trip. The Prince was no stranger to Canada having visited the Dominion with his eldest brother, the Prince of Wales in 1927 to celebrate the Diamond Jubilee of the Confederation of Canada. In addition, he had visited Canada alone (including Ottawa) in 1926 and is said to have paid another (private) visit in 1928.
According to the diaries of the Canadian Premier, William Mackenzie-King, George VI himself was the driving force behind the visit, His Majesty being ‘quite decided’ on the matter. Indeed, the Canadian Prime Minister’s diary entry of 11 July states that the Governor-General of Canada, Lord Athlone, informed Mackenzie-King that ‘he thought the King himself had put it forward to give the boy something to do.’ Athlone opined too that ‘the British had approved the project but [he] thought that the suggestion should come from Canada.’ Mackenzie-King demurred and told Athlone (the youngest brother of Queen Mary and uncle of Prince George), that ‘if the Duke of Kent came we would, of course, welcome him cordially.’ Yet, he ‘did not feel, however, [that] I should make a suggestion..’ Ever the politician, Mackenzie-King ruminated that he would be bound to be asked questions as to ‘why I had invited him’ in the Canadian Parliament ‘and [he] did not feel’ that he ‘would be in a position to answer the question satisfactorily.’ More specifically, the reason for his lukewarm attitude towards the proposed visit was subsequently confided by Mackenzie-King to his diary on 17 July: ‘It looks to me like something cooked up between [the Canadian High Commissioner in London, Vincent] Massey and the Palace, something about which the Brit[ish] Govt. nor my own are particularly keen about.’ It must be mentioned that the Canadian Prime Minister was a complex character and his nose was undoubtedly put out-of-joint as a result of what he regarded as a lack of consultation with the government in Ottawa on the part of Buckingham Palace and of Vincent Massey. Even if such soundings had taken place, it is doubtful if Mackenzie-King would have been keen. Furthermore, there was another major factor in the equation, something which indubitably upset Mackenzie-King’s equilibrium: the Duke of Windsor (the former King Edward VIII, eldest brother of Prince George and now Governor of the Bahamas) had also recently made a request to visit Canada, where he owned a ranch in Alberta. The Canadian Prime Minister informed the British High Commissioner in Ottawa, Malcolm MacDonald, that he rather wished that the Duke of Windsor should not come at all but, if he did, Mackenzie-King reasoned that ‘they [the two royal dukes] certainly should not be here at the same time’ as ‘this would give rise to many questionings and might give rise to serious embarrassment.’ Fortunately, the visits of both royalties were scheduled so that they did not overlap. After meeting and entertaining the Duke of Kent following his arrival, the Canadian Prime Minister then planned to take himself off to England for a visit with Winston Churchill and to pay his respects to Queen Mary at Badminton.
Meanwhile, when the tour was announced to the public around 23 July, the British press were casting all such political and court machinations to the side and wrote that His Royal Highness had ‘volunteered’ to make the trip. Prince George and his party flew overnight from Prestwick Airport in Scotland to Rockcliffe Airport, Ottawa in an eighteen-ton Consolidated Liberator Mark I bomber, AM261, of Royal Air Force Ferry Command, arriving at around 10am on 29 July (after a brief stopover in Montreal for breakfast). The flight had taken over fifteen hours and there was little room to lie down or even to stretch one’s legs. The royal visitor was welcomed at Rockcliffe by the Governor-General and the Prime Minister. During a conversation over lunch at the Governor-General’s residence, His Royal Highness admitted to Mackenzie-King that the air journey had been cold and uncomfortable. The Duke joked that although he had been given an electrically heated flying suit, there had been no where to plug it in! The Canadian premier, meanwhile, thought Prince George appeared, ‘pretty tired and nervous.’ For their part, the Canadian press were impressed that the Duke was the first member of the British Royal Family to make a transatlantic flight. They did question him on the possibility of a visit to the United States but Prince George admitted, ‘I am not sure..’ but left the possibility open. The British press, meanwhile, also unhelpfully mentioned that the former King Edward VIII and his youngest surviving brother might meet in Canada.
The Duke of Kent answers questions from the press on arrival in Ottawa, 29 July 1941
Whilst in Ottawa, Prince George stayed with his “Uncle Alge” [the family name for Lord Athlone] and his wife “Aunt Alice” [Princess Alice, Countess of Athlone, the redoubtable granddaughter of the late Queen/Empress Victoria] at Rideau Hall, the Governor-General’s official residence. Also present in the happy family group were the Athlone’s daughter (and the Prince’s first cousin) Lady May Abel Smith accompanied by her children who were also currently living in Ottawa.
On the evening of 30 July, an official dinner (described by the British press as a ‘State Dinner’) of welcome, attended by seventy guests, was held by the Canadian government in Prince George’s honour at the Country Club in Ottawa. Mackenzie-King was seated between His Royal Highness and the Earl of Athlone and complained that neither was ‘easy to talk to.’ Earlier that day, the Duke had visited the Headquarters of the Royal Canadian Air Force, travelling through the crowd-lined streets of the Canadian capital in his official Buick with police outriders in attendance. Prince George ensured that he waved to the onlookers and this drew sporadic cheers from the “side walks”.
The Duke of Kent drives through the streets of Ottawa, the Canadian capital.
The following day, Prince George was also able to watch a group of Australian and Canadian pilots as they trained at The Royal Canadian Air Force [RCAF] No.2 Service Flying Training School at nearby Uplands. The visit lasted nearly four hours and the Chief of the Air Staff personally greeted the royal visitor, as did a Royal Canadian Air Force Band who provided the Royal Salute, followed by a rendition of “The Thin Red Line”, during which His Royal Highness inspected the Guard of Honour. The Duke then toured the Motor Transport Section, the NCO’s quarters and mess, the swimming pool, the hospital, the airmen’s mess and a barrack’s block. He later had drinks in the officer’s mess before lunching in the dining room. Prince George was placed at the centre of the top table. His Royal Highness subsequently toured the Ground School, the aircraft hangers and the control tower. Each of the airman or ground staff with whom the royal visitor spoke was asked their name, how long they had been in the services, and if they were enjoying their work. Some of the airmen were also questioned about night flying. While earlier reviewing the Guard of Honour, His Royal Highness’ sympathy went out the men who were clad in the heavy regulation uniforms. He paused by Aircraftsman J.E.R. Nadon and asked, “Are those uniforms hot?” Nadon is reported to have replied, “Not too bad sir.” On departing, Prince George mentioned to his Canadian hosts that he had, been ‘impressed by the efficiency of the [Uplands] Maintenance Squadron’. That same day, he also made a tour of RCAF Rockcliffe, going through much the same schedule as at the Uplands airbase. The combined tour of both of these bases amounted to seven hours in total. In the evening, an official dinner was hosted by Lord Athlone at Rideau Hall.
On 1 August, after touring the Gatineau Hills, the Duke was able to watch summer air manoeuvres by some of the many trainee pilots he had previously met at Uplands and Rockcliffe. The trainee pilots were apparently ‘picking up flying time lost during last two weeks’. The latter may have been partly due to the shooting of a Hollywood “movie” by Warner Brothers at nearby Pendleton Relief Field. This included several flying sequences, including one involving an impressive thirty-six aircraft. In the evening, the Duke enjoyed a picnic supper, with Mackenzie-King as host, during a visit to the Prime Minister’s private estate at Kingsmere Lake.
On 2 August, Prince George flew southwards to inspect RCAF Trenton, the largest air facility in eastern Canada and home to No. 1 Composite Training School [No. 1 KTS]. He was introduced to participants of the Aircrew Squadron and Disciplinarians Course. Thereafter, the Duke flew on to make an afternoon inspection of the No.1 Service Flying Training School [SFTS] at Camp Borden, said to be ‘the birthplace’ of the Royal Canadian Air Force. Scores of training planes were on the tarmac as he arrived. He ‘toured the various units’ before enduring yet another “meet and greet” session in the officer’s mess. But it was not only air force personnel: His Royal Highness also met men of the Canadian Armored Division, most of whom had given up there weekend leave to meet the royal visitor. On 3 August, after attending a Sunday morning church service with the Athlone’s, the Duke of Kent flew out from Ottawa to Winnipeg ‘on the first lap of the western section of his tour’. Mackenzie-King, confided to his diary that ‘I think the Duke’s visit, as far as Ottawa is concerned, has gone off very well.’ Praise indeed! The Prince landed at Stevenson Airport, Winnipeg and proceeded to Government House to spend the night. ‘Several hundred spectators’ lined the route of the motorcade. His Royal Highness was entertained to dinner by the Lieutenant-Governor and Mrs McWilliams. It was also at this juncture that it was announced that His Royal Highness would travel to the United States on 23 August to visit President Roosevelt at his private country estate.
The Duke of Kent at RCAF Trenton before flying to Camp Borden 2 August 1941
On 4 August, a day of high winds which curtailed many training flights, the Duke flew from Winnipeg to Regina, Saskatchewan to pay what the press described as ‘an unexpected visit’ to No.15 Elementary Flying Training School [EFTS]. The stopover was brief, lasting merely 45 minutes. Nevertheless, a guard of honour was hastily arranged (and duly inspected) and the Duke also found time meet ‘civil leaders’ and talk with a group of Americans who had enrolled in the Royal Canadian Air Force. That same day, the Duke and his party flew into RCAF Calgary (Lincoln Park) home of No. 3 Service Flying Training School, where the local Mayor was introduced to His Royal Highness. One hundred and four men stood to attention as the Royal Salute was played and the Duke made time to speak to many as he passed down the line. Prince George later visited the nearby No. 2 Wireless School [WS], travelling through the city centre in a sedan car. At the School he was greeted by a guard of honour and two Royal Canadian Mounted Police astride their horses. The station diary notes that the Duke made a thorough visit of the station hospital where he insisted on speaking to each of the patients about their ailments. He also toured the classrooms and seemed keen to listen in as the students received instruction and later questioned many of them about their experiences. As was often his custom throughout the tour, Prince George then ventured up to the third floor canteen to meet briefly with some of the diners, for he was concerned about the variety of the daily fare on offer and as to whether the portions were sufficient. He asked for copy of the menu and inspected a large walk-in refrigerator filled with fresh meat. The Duke also had an interesting encounter with a Welshman, Harry Jones. While serving as a driver in the army, he had chauffeured Prince George’s great-uncle, the Duke of Connaught and the Duke of Windsor (when Prince of Wales) during their trips to Canada. After a visit to the officers’ mess, the royal party departed Calgary by car for a few days rest at Banff.
Each morning in the mountain resort of Banff, the Duke rose early to enjoy a ten-minute swim before breakfasting with his entourage in the Royal Suite of the Banff Springs Hotel. Whenever he had a spare moment, he would enjoying cantering on a bay horse along the local mountain trails (some press reports state he rode for a distance of around ten miles). On 5 August, Prince George spent many hours ascending nearby 8,000-foot Sulphur Mountain. He took with him a simple picnic lunch of hard boiled eggs and cold meats. The following day he climbed the more demanding 9000-foot Rundle Mountain, in just over six hours, in the company of his detective, Inspector Evans. One of the Duke’s drivers, AC J.S. Botterill, commented on his ‘vitality-I never saw anything like it in my life, so help me.’ Whilst staying at Banff he was also introduced to two members of the indigenous First Nation community, Chief Charlie Bear Paw and Chef Waving Feather. Before leaving the resort at 8am on the morning of 7 August, Prince George thanked Charlie Lambe, who had been his personal waiter and gave him a gift of cufflinks bearing his cipher. Mr Lambe knew the Duke from his time working at Ciro’s night club in London. It was at this juncture that His Royal Highness learned that his friend and ADC, Wing Commander Whitney Straight had been shot down over France. He would later end up in prisoner-of-war camp from which he escaped in June 1942. Meanwhile, the British press commented that there was ‘no plan’ for a meeting between the Duke of Kent and his eldest brother.
The Duke of Kent makes an inspection of the Guard of Honour at RCAF Calgary.
The royal trip was by now attracting attention back home in Britain and the London Illustrated News ran a special pictorial feature; while the Newcastle Journal headlined ‘the Duke of Kent in Canada in Colour’ in large capital letters. Meanwhile, the Duke drove himself in a large Lincoln automobile from Banff back to Calgary, from where he subsequently flew to Vancouver and spent an hour inspecting facilities at the airport. Thereafter, it was onwards to Vancouver Island where he toured the RCAF base at Patricia Bay (home to 32 Operational Training Unit). The OTU, as it was referred to, was the ‘last stop’ for aircraft crew in their training protocol. The Duke was greeted by the Lieutenant-Governor, Mr Eric Hamber and a crowd of onlookers, estimated at 3,500. A guard of honour of one hundred airmen were drawn up on the runway for inspection. Prince George and the Lieutenant-Governor would later motor down Vancouver Island to the city of Victoria, a distance of some eighteen miles, where the Duke dined and spent the night at Government House.
Naturally, Prince George could not make a visit to Vancouver Island’s historical capital without a tour of the imposing Parliament House, so next morning he drove there and was met by the State Premier, T.D. Patullo and other local politicians. Later, His Royal Highness had a meeting with Major General Ronald Alexander, General Officer Commanding, Pacific Command at his headquarters at Esquimalt Fortress. His Royal Highness also visited Western Air Command (RCAF) and subsequently lunched with the Commander, Air Commodore A. E. Godfrey at the Union Club. The Lieutenant-Governor and the heads of other branches of the military were also present. Prince George then toured a barracks of the Royal Canadian Navy (RCN) at the naval base at Esquimalt and later watched an army ‘formation’ display by ‘young militiamen’ at Work Point military camp. In the evening, after dining at Government House, the Duke returned to RCAF Patricia Bay and flew over to Vancouver where he and his entourage stayed privately at “Shannon” the home of Major and Mrs Austin Taylor.
On 9 August, the Duke drove to Richmond, just south of the city of Vancouver, to tour the Boeing aircraft plant, as well as to visit RCAF Station Sea Island, the location for No. 8 Elementary Flying Training School which made use of Tiger Moth aircraft. According to the station diary, “Air Commodore Kent”, inspected both trainees and flying instructors, before ‘thoroughly’ touring the air station.
Duke of Kent tours Boeing aircraft plant near Vancouver August 1941
Thereafter, Prince George and his party undertook an afternoon tour of Burrard Dry Dock where Bangor Class Minesweepers were being built for the Royal Canadian Navy. His Royal Highness also toured the neighbouring North Van Ship Repairs Yard, which had just been re-tooled so as to construct minesweepers, at the behest of the Canadian government. Three new launch ways had recently been built at this site and the Duke was given ample opportunity to inspect the facilities. It is clear from local photo archives that His Royal Highness made time to speak to many of the shipyard workers, as well as some war veterans from World War I. It so happened that the Prince was keen on naval history (having previously served in the Royal Navy as a midshipman) and he was Patron of the Society for Nautical Research. Prince George also met with patients at the Shaughnessy Military Hospital in Oak Street. He was particularly moved to speak to Percy Hart (described as an ‘old timer’ in the Vancouver Sun), who had been hospitalised there with arthritis since 1923. Indeed, he had been a patient when Prince George last visited the hospital with the then Prince of Wales in 1927. News of his visit soon reached locals and as he prepared to depart in his open-topped official limousine, he was surrounded by a large crowd.
Duke of Kent visit Burrard Dry Dock, Vancouver, British Columbia.
Duke of Kent arrives at Parliament House, Victoria on Vancouver Island.
The Prince then commenced his journey towards Edmonton by train that evening. En route he again enjoyed at stopover for a couple of days, this time at Jasper National Park, where he dined privately in his private mountain lodge with Charles E Hughes, a retired Chief Justice of the United States Supreme Court. The Duke also swam regularly in Lake Beauvert and indulged in some climbing. On finally reaching Edmonton by rail on 13 August, the Duke was cheered by thousands as the royal motorcade advanced through the streets of Alberta’s capital city. The welcome was described in the station diary of RCAF Edmonton as the ‘ the most spontaneous and enthusiastic greeting yet received on the tour.’ The Duke first visited the No. 2 Air Observer Corps [AOS] where he toured classrooms at the Radio Technical School. He then inspected No. 16 Elementary Flying Training School where, after signing the register in the Administration Building, he spent a considerable time watching the trainee pilots taking off and landing. Prince George also asked questions of officers, trainee pilots, mechanics and other ground staff during a subsequent tour of the radio room, the hangars and the officers’ mess. His Royal Highness was then introduced to Mr Thomas Bull, a veteran of the Great War. Interestingly, Mr Bull had at one time helped with the construction of a summer house in the garden at Windsor Castle and he was keen to know if the building was still standing. The Duke was pleased to confirm that this was indeed the case, it currently being used by the King and Queen. On departing, His Royal Highness praised the ‘speedy expansion’ of the Air Training Plan.
On the morning of 14 August, the Duke paid a visit to RCAF Medicine Hat, Alberta (home of No. 34 Service Flying Training School). Many of the men at this air station came from Britain. Somewhat unusually, he first attended a Civic Reception in the Town Hall before making a ‘thorough’ inspection of the guard of honour of one hundred airmen. The station diary keeper notes that His Royal Highness made time to speak to around twenty-five of the Guard. Starting his tour in the “Station Sick Quarters”, Prince George’s tour of inspection encompassed ‘practically every building.’ Prior to taking lunch in the Officer’s Mess, the Prince was happy to pose with many of the airmen to have pictures taken. Lieutenant Lowther later wrote a letter of thanks to the Commanding Officer, Group Captain Ellis, stating that ‘His Royal Highness was greatly impressed with all he saw..’ and sent ‘his warmest congratulations on the efficiency of No. 34 Service Flying Training School.’ It was just the sort of morale boost that was needed.
In the afternoon, His Royal Highness flew in his Lockheed-Hudson aircraft to No. 32 Service Flying Training School at Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan. The facility had recently been expanded to enable the Allied airmen to spend around sixteen weeks learning to fly Harvard and Oxford aircraft. Once again a large proportion of the trainees hailed from Britain and the local Leader-Post newspaper described the air station as ‘a little bit of Britain transplanted to the broad Canadian prairies.’ There was also a contingent of trainee pilots from Norway. The Duke was entranced by all he saw and spent a ‘considerable’ time up in the ‘watch tower’ watching planes as they landed and took off. This was also the perfect viewpoint to watch the excavation work currently being undertaken to further extend the runways. Prince George later visited the No. I Aircraft Hangar, the Ground Instructional Block, a barracks, drill hall and the station hospital, where he spoke to many of the patients. Word of the royal visit had clearly reached the local population and His Royal Highness went over to speak to a crowd of two hundred onlookers who had gathered outside the air station boundary fence. The Prince subsequently took tea in the officer’s mess where he was formally introduced to the Mayor of Moose Jaw, Mr Corman and the Town Clerk, Mr Craven. The party then left for RCAF Regina (his second visit) where he landed at 7.30pm and spent the night at Government House. During this brief stopover, His Royal Highness was able to meet up with Flight Lieutenant Robert Leavitt, who had spent a week, in May 1940, piloting the Duke in his Hudson aircraft over the north of France. Leavitt had only recently been awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross for undertaking dangerous reconnaissance work over Norway.
On 15 August, the Duke left RCAF Regina at 9.30am to fly to the No. 12 Service Flying Training School located at RCAF Brandon. The royal party arrived in good weather at 11am prompt. No guard of honour was deemed necessary. Nonetheless, the diary of the air station shows His Royal Highness was still expected to inspect fifty ‘Security Guards’. He subsequently toured the maintenance hangar and the hospital (stopping to ask each patient the reason for their stay and what post they were training for). The Duke then paid a visit to the officer’s mess to to enjoy an ‘informal’ lunch. By 13.30 he had departed to inspect the No. 2 Manning Depot for new recruits located nearby. The royal visitor was determined to be thorough and spent an hour touring the barracks, the athletic grounds and watching a demonstration of the different stages in the training of raw recruits, be it in rifle drill, foot drill, marching or saluting. The royal visitors then returned to the main Brandon airfield to fly eastwards to RCAF Carberry, home of No. 33 Service Flying Training School to make a ‘surprise’ visit and participate in the ‘great event’ of the day, the “Wings Parade” at which the sixty-three Graduate-Pilots of the out-going course received their flying badges. Although this visit was a brief one, Prince George insisted on pinning the Emblem on each of the graduates.
The Duke of Kent at Government House, Winnipeg with the Lieutenant-Governor of Manitoba and Mrs McWilliamsThe Duke of Kent during his tour of Hawker Hurricane production line at the Canadian Car and Foundry at Fort William, Ontario.
The Prince next progressed to RCAF Winnipeg (less than two weeks after his previous visit to the airfield) the home of No. 5 Observer Corps (OC) and temporary home to No. 14 Elementary Flying Training School. The Duke was asked to present the Starratt Memorial Trophy to the most outstanding trainee of air observers, LAC E.K. Campbell. The latter was also presented with a ‘navigational watch.’ In addition, Prince George met with the other trainees, instructors and officers. The royal party then progressed to No. 8 Repair Depot to view a group of mechanics and engineers at work. Thereafter, the Duke was introduced to civilian pilots attached to the Winnipeg Air Observer School Ltd. His Royal Highness also made a brief speech which was mentioned in the British newspapers, ‘I did not expect the [air training] scheme to be so impressive.’ Apparently, it was already ‘twenty-per-cent more advanced than those in charge hoped for.’ He added enthusiastically, ‘I shall have much to tell them in England.’ Finally, His Royal Highness visited MacDonald Brothers Aircraft factory. MacDonald’s built many of the training aircraft used by the British Commonwealth Air Training Plan, including the Avro Avian. The company also undertook airplane repairs on other wartime models such as the Tiger Moth. At the end of what had been a very busy day, the Duke met with members of the Polish Community at Government House, Winnipeg. He was also introduced to a delegation from the Czech-Slovak Military Mission to Canada, who were on a recruiting mission on behalf of the RAF. Many Czechoslovak airmen would subsequently fly for the Allies.
Thereafter, the Duke enjoyed a few days free of duties at the summer home of the late E W Kneeland, a wealthy Winnipeg grain merchant, at Lake of the Woods Island near Kenora, Northern Ontario. He then travelled, early on the morning of 19th August, to pay a visit to the RCAF Fort William, home of No. 2 Elementary Flying School, where he inspected the new barracks block, viewed the recreation room and even toured several storage buildings. Subsequently, Prince George visited the production line of Canadian Car & Foundry which was situated close-by. The plant built Hawker Hurricane aircraft including the Sea Hurricane, which the press described as a ‘navalised version’ of the Hurricane. The royal visitor was pictured for posterity talking to both men and women on the assembly line. This sent out an important message to the world, as women were now increasingly in war production in Canada, the United States and in Britain too. Thereafter, the royal party made a tour of the shipbuilding yard in the neighbouring town of Port Arthur.
The Duke of Kent with a Bren gun during his visit to John Inglis munition factory near Toronto, 21 August 1941.
The Duke of Kent travelled to Timmins by air on the morning of 20 August (where he was greeted by crowds estimated to be in the thousands and spent an hour 4,000 feet down a gold mine). He subsequently flew four hundred miles southwards to Toronto, where he made a visit to the original “Little Norway”, a training camp and school for expatriate Norwegian airmen then situated at Toronto’s small island airport on Lake Ontario. Prince George later dined with the Lieutenant Governor of Ontario and Mrs Matthews in the Vice-Regal Chambers of Parliament House. Next morning, His Royal Highness paid a ninety-minute visit to the John Inglis munitions plant where he was pictured inspecting a Bren gun (the plant was one of the main producers of this item). He also paid a visit to No. 1 Initial Training School of the RCAF at Eglinton in nearby Scarborough where, in addition to speaking to flying officers, the Prince inspected the kitchen and spoke to the chef about culinary matters, once again demonstrating his concern for the welfare of those serving in the military. There was also rumoured to be a secret RCAF research facility at this site, though whether Prince George visited that establishment remains unclear. In addition, the Duke made a visit to the De Havilland aircraft factory at Downsview Park, Toronto where the legendary Tiger Moth training plane was constructed, as was the twin-engine Mosquito combat aircraft. Both these aeroplanes were vital to the success of the Allied cause and this morale-boosting visit was just what was required.
The Duke of Kent at the munitions plant of John Inglis and Co. Oshawa, Ontario. 21 August 1941
On 22 August, the Duke of Kent was present at the opening of the Canadian National Exhibition in Toronto. He made a speech to those attending in which he stated that ‘We are determined and confident that these temporary clouds shall pass and that much better days are to come for all classes of people. The knowledge that Canada is producing an ever-increasing volume of necessary weapons of war is a constant inspiration to the never-flagging courage of our people.’ At this time, Prince George also visited No.1 Manning Depot for RCAF trainees which was located on the National Exhibition site: He spoke to one of the workers in the YMCA canteen, a Mrs J. H. Domine about her work and conditions.
The Duke of Kent speaks to a Mrs Domine during a tour of the canteen at No.1 Manning Depot, Toronto.
The following day, the royal entourage visited RCAF Oshawa, to open the No. 20 Elementary Flying Training School. The Duke, according to the station diary, was taken to a reviewing stand at the Parade Square and after speaking to officials, he was asked to declare the flying school ‘open’ which he duly did in a ‘short but well-delivered speech.’ Thereafter, he inspected the ‘pupil-pilots’ and their instructors, expressing his ‘admiration for the appearance of all ranks.’ Prince George then viewed motorised military equipment currently being produced at the General Motors Company plant nearby. Whilst there, he again had the chance to meet a group of military veterans. He later returned to RCAF Oshawa to change into civilian dress for his flight to La Guardia Airport in New York. Before departing, the Duke presented his chauffeur for the last few days in Toronto area, Sergeant Earl Baxter, with a pair of cufflinks bearing his distinctive royal cypher. Kind touches such as these did not go unnoticed.
After a brief stopover in New York, where no less than two hundred patrolmen, detectives and traffic police had been assigned to secure the royal party’s route through the city, the royal motorcade proceeded ‘upstate’ towards President and Mrs Roosevelt private Springwood estate, at Hyde Park, situated on the eastern shore of the Hudson River, some four miles north of Poughkeepsie. The Duke arrived just in time for dinner that evening. As the Duke confided to waiting reporters at La Guardia, this was the first time he had met the President since a previous encounter in the Bahamas in 1934 when he and his wife, Princess Marina, were on their honeymoon. On Sunday, the Prince’s host took his guest on a tour-the press described it as a ‘preview’-of the newly-completed Franklyn Roosevelt Library. The President was keen to ensure that his royal visitor viewed an eclectic selection of the items on display-mostly statues and art work-for this inaugural exhibition at the Library. Further ‘highlights’ included the chance for a royal dip in the Roosevelt’s private swimming pool up and being driven by Roosevelt in his specially-adapted car on a tour around the two-hundred-acre estate. In the evening, the Duke and the President travelled by ‘special train’ overnight to Washington D.C., arriving at Union Station the morning of Monday, 25 August. The Duke and his party then flew immediately down to Virginia from Anacosta air station, visiting an operational unit at Langley Air Force Base, as well as touring the Navy Yard at Norfolk (‘the most important naval centre on the Atlantic seaboard’) which was currently being expanded to better supply the combat ships that were required. At the latter the Duke was greeted in person by Admiral Manley H. Simons, District Commander of the 5th Naval District and cheered by workmen as he progressed through the yard. There was a visit too to Newport News Shipyard which specialised in the construction of aircraft carriers. His Royal Highness returned to Washington to spend an overnight at the White House. A dinner was held in Prince George’s honour (attended by eighteen guests who included his kinsman, Dickie Mountbatten, his wife Edwina and Harry Hopkins, who frequently travelled to Britain as Roosevelt’s “envoy”). That the President and the Duke of Kent had managed to spend some “quality” time together was seen as advantageous to the British cause, for with the United States not yet having entered the Second World War, the King and Churchill had been particularly anxious to sustain the “special relationship” between Britain and its long-time ally.
Meanwhile, Mrs Roosevelt had confided to the press that the Prince, like his brother King George VI, ‘was very shy and thoughtful.’ Nevertheless, His Royal Highness remained determined to raise Britain’s profile in wartime in the States: The following morning he was given the ideal opportunity: After a brief tour of the Presidential mansion and West Wing, the Duke paid a visit to the National Press Club where he made an upbeat speech underlining his confidence in an Allied victory. He emphasised that ‘the more material aid the United States furnishes, the quicker Britain will win’ adding that morale in his homeland ‘was good’. On a lighter note, His Royal Highness teased his American hosts that he had not seen an orange or a banana for months until his recent arrival in Canada.
Prince George subsequently visited Baltimore, on 26 August, the home town of the Duke’s sister-in-law, Wallis Warfield (whom the local Mayor insisted on calling “Our Wally”). His Royal Highness inspected bombers being built for the Royal Air Force at the Glenn L. Martin Aircraft Plant. Again, this factory had recently been enlarged due to the Allies desperate need of combat aircraft, such as the A-22 Maryland Bomber. During the visit, the Duke addressed some of the 13,000 workers at the plant and imparted another rousing, patriotic message, ‘You are playing a vital part in our fight. Every hour you work not only saves the lives of our men, women, and children, but brings victory nearer.’ Before leaving, His Royal Highness was introduced to one hundred and fifty officers of the British Merchant Navy. He also inspected Canadian troops at nearby Camp Holabird. Tom Hanes, an American journalist was allowed to accompany the Duke throughout the Baltimore visit and described him as ‘just another good guy…who is trying his level best to handle a tough job.’ Hanes asked Prince George for his views on the current American defence effort: ‘Marvellous. The spirit is wonderful. Please say for me that we deeply appreciate the tremendous accomplishments of American industry.’ The journalist noted that the royal visitor was drinking bourbon and the Prince admitted he did not care for “Scotch”. However, he had praise indeed for American journalists, feeling that they ‘ have given me quite friendly treatment…They’re fine fellows.’ A deft public relations treat on the part of the Duke!
The Duke of Kent (“Air Commodore Kent”) in his RAF uniform making a speech in Canada
On 27 August, Prince George returned to Canada to visit Hamilton, Ontario, where he was greeted by cheering crowds as he visited Westinghouse’s Electric Plant. Originally a small appliance factory, the facility had been re-tooled and expanded to produce anti-aircraft guns and other components, including many for the Mosquito Bomber. In the afternoon, he paid a visit to RCAF Hamilton (Mount Hope) and spent an hour reviewing No. 10 Elementary Flying Training School. He ended the day by inspecting and subsequently spending an overnight at RCAF Jarvis, the Ontario home of No.1 Bombing and Gunnery School, close-by the north shore of Lake Erie. Meanwhile, at Badminton in Gloucestershire, the home of the Duke of Beaufort, and temporary wartime residence of Queen Mary, Mackenzie-King was quizzed by the Dowager Queen about the Duke’s visit. Her Majesty had been following her youngest surviving son’s trip with great interest and showed the Canadian Prime Minister a selection of newspaper clippings, including one of Prince George at Rideau Hall with the Athlone’s. Mackenzie-King enthused that ‘some very fine movies’ had been made of the royal tour, although he also divulged that the Duke of Kent had informed him ‘that he never liked to see himself in a movie.’
The Duke of Kent speaks to John Mack of Glasgow at RCAF St Thomas, London, Ontario.
On 28 August Prince George was photographed with John Mack from Britain as he toured a No. 1 Technical Training School at RCAF St Thomas, near London, south-eastern Ontario. The site had a capacity to train up to 2,000 men at a time to work as skilled ground crew. The following day, His Royal Highness made an ‘unexpected visit’ to RCAF Cap de la Madeleine, the home of No. 11 Elementary Flying School. The Duke’s plane hade been forced to land here due to poor visibility. The air station diary notes: ‘Unfortunately for us the royal visitor had to be rushed to the [train] station at Three Rivers to catch the Quebec train [for onward travel by air to St Hubert aerodrome, Montreal]. Consequently he didn’t have time to visit our school.’
When the Duke landed at St Hubert aerodrome it was already twilight. So began his forty-hour visit to Canada’s (then) largest city. A motorcycle escort accompanied his official car, flying the Ducal standard, to Montreal’s City Hall where His Royal Highness signed the city’s famous Golden Book and was guest of honour at an evening reception (presided over by the Mayor, Monsieur Adhemar Raynault and attended by ‘high military and civic dignitaries’.) Monsieur Raynault praised the royal visitor to the local press on his ‘very fluent French’, as well as on his interest in matters pertaining to French Canada. That evening, Prince George spent the night at the aptly-named Windsor Hotel, where five hundred people crowded the hotel lobby in order to try and catch a glimpse of the royal visitor as he entered (a further 2,500 were also waiting outside so the Duke waved from a window of his suite to acknowledge their cheers). Meanwhile, the Montreal Gazette revealed that traffic around the hotel had been ‘rerouted lest it rouse Duke’. The following day, 29 August, was packed with engagements including a visit to No. 1 Wireless School at RCAF Montreal (currently housed in what had been the Nazareth School for the Blind) where the Duke was introduced to a large group of Australian and New Zealand airmen. Prince George also toured the classrooms and later lunched in the officers’ mess. During a tour of the canteen, he asked a member of staff how much beer and ale was being sold. The royal visitor then moved on to visit the huge Canadian Pacific Railway manufacturing and repair facility, known as Angus Shops. This depot-which was set over 1200 acres-was also now used to produce Valentine tanks for the war effort. His Royal Highness also paid a visit to Ferry Command: this Montreal-based organisation, operating out of RCAF Lachine (Dorval), made use of civilian pilots to deliver thousands of bombers built in Canada and the United States, fresh off the production line, to Britain during its darkest hour. Many of the transatlantic routes used by the crews (who also included trained navigators and radio operators) were new and experimental as the airmen learned to cope with dangerous conditions such as fog, blinding rain and heavy turbulence. His Royal Highness also visited the Fairchild Aviation aircraft at Longueuil, Quebec (where the Fairchild PT-19 training aircraft were being built). A selection of eleven different types of plane built in Canada were available for His Royal Highness to inspect. The Duke then made time to visit the look-out at the top of Mount Royal, where he viewed a monument erected to commemorate the visit of the King George VI and Queen Elizabeth in May 1939. A tea was held in the nearby “chalet” which was attended by city councillors and Mayor’s of some of the neighbouring municipalities adjoining the City of Montreal. Indeed, the Duke shook hands with ‘scores of the cities leading citizens’ during the one-hour reception. Prior to departing, the royal visitor reviewed a large contingent of air cadets and complimented them on their ‘smart appearance.’ The Ottawa Citizen newspaper revealed that as a kindness to His Royal Highness, a Montreal department store, Henry Morgan and Company, opened specially ‘after hours’ to allow the Duke to do some shopping which included the purchasing of some fountain pens. Not surprising given that the press described this day in Montreal as ‘the busiest day of his Canadian tour.’
The Prince departed St Hubert airport at 11am prompt on 30 August in a Grumman Goose amphibian aircraft for the town of Sorel, in south-western Quebec, where he toured Sorel Industries. This company was currently ‘turning out 25-pound field guns’ for the British Army. This was followed by a visit to the town’s Marine Industries which was involved in the construction of small warships (Corvettes) as well as the building of the largest all-welded vessel ever built in Canada. The New York Times revealed that Prince George was thereafter enjoying a brief sojourn at the fashionable Quebec holiday resort of Murray Bay, east of Quebec city. He was actually staying at Saint-Irénée-Les-Bains at the turreted chateau of Mr Pierre Francois Casgrain, a former Speaker of the Canadian House of Commons. For some of his time here, the went for a ‘canter’ along the Hotel Manoir Richelieu’s bridal path. On another occasion, he enjoyed a post-prandial four-hour, fifteen mile hike through local woodlands with the faithful Inspector Evans at his side. Nor was the Duke’s downtime carefree as back in London, his wife, Princess Marina, was undergoing ‘minor eye surgery’ and had cancelled her engagements for the next two-weeks.
On 2 September the Prince had resumed his tour, departing Lake St Agnes in his sea-plane for a tour of the Maritimes and an examination of eastern seaboard defences. The royal party first travelled to New Brunswick for a two-hour visit to No 8 Service Flying Training School, Moncton. This included a reception, a lunch with the officers, followed by ‘an Inspection of the Station.’ Later that afternoon, Prince George and his party flew over the Northumberland Strait to RCAF Summerside, on Prince Edward Island. This was the home base of the No. 9 Service Flying Training School. The Duke was there to inspect the new No. 2 runway. However, 70mph winds led to his Grumman aircraft having to land on a field of grass in the centre of the aerodrome, rather than on the new runway. Subsequently, His Royal Highness took tea in the officer’s mess and met members of the ‘permanent staff.’ Then, as the winds remained fierce, it was decided that Prince George would travel by car, rather than by plane, to his next engagement at RCAF Charlottetown (also on Prince Edward Island). This change in mode of transport meant that he was one-and-a-half hours late for his next engagement. This was somewhat unfortunate as Members of the Provincial government were kept waiting, as was the Lieutenant-Governor, Mr Le Page and the Commanding Officer Eastern Air Command, Air Commodore Anderson. Charlottetown was the home of No. 32 (Royal Air Force) Air Navigation School (ANS), as well as the No. 31 School of General Reconnaissance. The Duke was particularly interested in the work being undertaken there and in the equipment being used.
On 3 and 4 September, the Duke of Kent visited Halifax, Nova Scotia where he toured the RCAF facilities at Eastern Passage (east of Dartmouth), the headquarters of Eastern Air Command. He met a group of Canadian air force pilots who had recently returned from manoeuvres in England, as well as airmen who served in the Royal Air Force and the Fleet Air Arm. Most of these individuals had been involved in recent the Battle of Britain. The Prince also took the salute during a flypast and presented a new insignia to the No. 5 Squadron (featuring a gannet) at its base, RCAF Dartmouth. This squadron specialised in anti-submarine activities. In the evening, the royal party were entertained to dinner by the government of Nova Scotia. Next day, His Royal Highness inspected the “Stad”, as the local naval barracks were often referred to (official name HMCS Stadacona) and he also toured the naval dockyard. In the afternoon, Prince George departed Halifax and flew to the city of Quebec, landing in the harbour in his amphibious plane. He then drove to The Citadel, the Governor-General’s residence in Quebec City, where he was again entertained by his Uncle Alge and Aunt Alice. After attending yet another official dinner, the Duke rose early the following day to a packed schedule with six hours of engagements during which His Royal Highness visited an arsenal, before moving on to the No. 4 Manning Depot [RCAF] where he chatted to an aircraftsman in the barber shop. He also toured the depot medical clinic and spoke around a dozen patients. After lunching with the Depot Commander, the royal party made a a tour of the Valcartier Camp-some twenty miles distant-home of the Canadian Infantry Training Centre. The Duke also caught up with correspondence and wrote a letter of thanks from the Citadel in his own hand to Mrs Roosevelt ‘for all your kindness and hospitality during my visit to the USA.’ The Prince had ‘enjoyed my visit to Washington so much, I only wish it could have been longer.’ He was returning home ‘next week full of wonderful impressions of what is being done over here to help our cause.’ Thereafter, on 7 September His Royal Highness enjoyed an afternoon of culture when he accompanied his Uncle Alge and Aunt Alice on a visit to the Museum of the Province of Quebec. In the evening, the trio were guests at a dinner given by the Lieutenant-Governor of Quebec, Major-General Sir Eugene Fiset at his official residence, Spencerwood.
The “Stad” Barracks and parade ground of HMCS Stadacona, Halifax, Nova Scotia
The Duke subsequently broadcast over the radio, mostly in English, but with a portion in French, on the evening of 9 September, prior to leaving Quebec City en route to Newfoundland the following morning. Prince George said that ‘the inspiration I have received from these few weeks among you gives me additional confidence in leaving your shores..’ He also praised the ‘remarkable achievements of the Commonwealth Air Training Scheme in Canada.’ His Royal Highness also mentioned his brief visit to the United States and opined that out of the war would surely be ‘born a closer friendship and unanimity among people who spoke a common tongue.’
On 12 September the Duke of Kent flew into Newfoundland’s Bay Bulls Big Pond from Sydney, Nova Scotia in a flying boat accompanied by two escort planes. He was due to have arrived on 10 September but was delayed, yet again, by the inclement weather. During his unscheduled time in Nova Scotia, Prince George toured a steel plant in Sydney which was involved in the production of war materials. He was also able to learn of the anti-submarine operations being conducted out of RCAF Sydney. In Newfoundland, His Royal Highness was greeted by a Guard of Honour from the Newfoundland Militia and lunched with the Governor (Newfoundland was at this stage not part of the Dominion of Canada and was proud to describe itself as the “Old Colony”), Vice-Admiral Sir Humphrey Walwyn at Government House, in the capital St John’s. In the afternoon the Duke proceeded to the Feildian Athletic Grounds and took the salute at a parade of Royal Navy, United States and Canadian military forces, as well as a contingent of Newfoundland Great War Veterans and of the Newfoundland Militia. Later, His Royal Highness visited the Grenfell Institute to meet more Allied servicemen and Newfoundland naval recruits. He spoke to many and was again particularly concerned about arrangements for their welfare and comfort. Then-in the company of the Governor- he motored to Bay Bulls Big Pond and departed for the journey back home to Britain. The Duke, it was said, had ‘encouraged…by word and deed [others] to carry on in their endeavours…’ in wartime.
On the return journey to England, following his 15,000 mile tour, the Duke took the controls of the Liberator bomber he was travelling in ‘for a short time’. The press were also keen to note that His Royal Highness ‘insisted’ in observing the usual travel etiquette such as showing his passport. The Prince also remembered his family from whom he had been separated for so long. His wife Marina received the gift of twelve pair of silk stockings, whilst his eldest child, Edward received the present of the model of an American bomber. Asked by the British press, on his return home on 13 September, about his return flight from Newfoundland, Prince George observed that “It was like flying back from Paris in peacetime. There wasn’t an incident.” Meanwhile, there were calls by some newspapers for the Duke to be sent out to Canberra as Governor-General, his previous appointment having been ‘postponed’ in 1939 due to the outbreak of war. A political commentator of one journal reasoned that ‘as he recently crossed in safety to Canada’ then ‘the risk of his now going to Australia could not be much greater.’ However, these comments were largely overlooked when the Duke spoke movingly in a BBC radio address on 17 September of the success of the British Commonwealth Air Training Plan: ‘this great air training organisation…which is not surpassed anywhere in the world’. He also enthused that ‘I found everywhere…an admirable spirit of comradeship, a deep consciousness of the gravity of the crisis which confronts us, and an eagerness to get on with the job, and see it through, no matter what personal circumstances it might entail.’ His Royal Highness added that ‘I was glad to be able to tell the King what I had seen and what I had heard in Canada.’ Prince George ended his address by noting, ‘the magnificent spirit and resolution of the whole Canadian population impressed me deeply.’ The Dominion Office in London stated the Duke’s tour was ‘most successful and widely appreciated.’
On 26 August 1942, newspapers in London and throughout the world were reporting the tragic death of Prince George, the Duke of Kent (and younger brother of King George VI) in an air accident over the north of Scotland. The Duke (who held the rank of Air Commodore in the RAF and was attached to the staff of the Inspector-General of Air) had been en route to Iceland, in a Short Sunderland flying boat, W4026, on the afternoon of 25 August, ostensibly to carry out a tour of inspection of bases there. Interestingly , the Prince, who was very keen to take on a role as a liaison officer between the British and American air forces, had also arranged to hold a second meeting at a US air base in Iceland with the US Air Force General Carl ‘Tooey’ Spaatz. This was to finalise matters discussed between the duo at their first meeting, a week earlier, at a London restaurant in Mayfair, the Bon Viveur. Of those on board (some sources say fifteen, others sixteen), only one survived the air accident-the rear gunner, Flight Sergeant Andrew Jack. He was badly burned as he attempted to pull bodies from the wreck. Among those killed were the Duke’s Private Secretary, Lieutenant John Lowther, His Royal Highness’ equerry, Pilot Officer the Hon. Michael Strutt and Prince George’s valet, Leading Aircraftman John Hales.
The aircraft (which intriguingly was normally based at Oban) had taken off from Invergordon on the Cromarty Firth shortly after 1pm. It has been noted that there was low cloud along the south coast of Caithness that day. After clearing the Cromarty Firth, the airplane turned north-east to follow the coastline. Around thirty minutes later, just inland from the village of Berriedale, in north-east Caithness, some shepherds, David Morrison and his son Hugh, heard the aircraft approach from the sea, although they could not physically see it owing to the foggy conditions. However, a loud explosion soon followed, as the Sunderland, having cleared the 2000 feet summit of Donald’s Mount, then somehow lost height and, at an altitude of approximately 700 feet, ploughed into a hillside to the east of Eagle’s Rock, eventually sliding down a hill on its back. Hugh Morrison ran to collect his motorbike and sped westwards to the hamlet of Braemore to raise the alarm. The police at nearby Dunbeath were also alerted and soon several search parties, including local crofters, headed for the hills. When the wreckage and bodies of the deceased were found (not an easy task in the dense mist that pervaded the area) the Duke’s body was easily distinguishable from the identity bracelet he was wearing.
King George VI received the news that evening by telephone from Sir Archibald Sinclair, the Secretary of State for Air (and also-by coincidence-a Caithness landowner), just as he and the Queen were enjoying dinner at their Scottish estate at Balmoral on Royal Deeside. It so happened that one of the guests was the King’s younger brother, Henry, the Duke of Gloucester, who was accompanied by his wife Alice. Both of the brothers and their wives were stunned at the news. The King then had to consider how best to inform his sister-in-law, Princess Marina, of her husband’s death. This was a particularly delicate undertaking for the Duchess of Kent was Greek-born and not on particularly close terms with her British in-laws. The task of arranging this was given to Eric Miéville, the King’s Assistant Private Secretary. Miéville telephoned Coppins, the Kent’s residence near Iver, and ascertained from the butler, Booksmith, that the Duchess had just retired for the evening, but was not yet asleep. He also learned that Miss Kate Fox, Marina’s aged, devoted former nurse was also present, as she was helping with the care of the Kent’s seven-week-old son, Michael. Miéville must then have imparted the sad news to the trusted retainer hoping, no doubt, that she would then gently inform the Duchess that her beloved husband had been killed. However, ‘Foxie’ could not bring herself to climb the stairs, doubtless realising the dreadful trauma this information would inflict on Marina. Instead, she telephoned Zoia Poklewski, a close friend of the Duchess, who lived in a cottage nearby on the Coppins estate, and urged her to come over to the main house at once. When Zoia arrived, Miss Fox related the tragic news as quietly as she could. Nevertheless, Marina must have heard something, for she soon shouted from the landing above, “What are you talking about?” Madam Poklewski then braced herself as she ascended the stairs to convey the harrowing message. According to Marina’s biographer, Stella King, the news of her husband’s death ‘produced a reaction in his widow which was dramatic in its intensity’. Unfortunately, all of Marina’s own family-to whom she was devoted and would, in normal times, have turned to for comfort and courage-lived overseas: her mother, Princess Nicholas (Grand Duchess Helen), was living in Athens, which was occupied by the Germans; her eldest sister, Princess Olga of Yugoslavia, was currently a “political prisoner” of the British government in Kenya; while the middle sibling, Princess Elizabeth, was married to a German, Count Toerring, and lived in Bavaria. Nevertheless, both the Queen (Elizabeth) and Queen Mary (Prince Edward’s mother) would later make the journey separately to Coppins to offer Marina their condolences and support.
Meanwhile, in the north of Scotland, the Duke of Kent’s mortal remains were removed from the hillside and transferred to Dunrobin Castle where Eileen, the Duchess of Sutherland (ironically a friend of the late Prince George) arranged for local undertakers to provide a coffin, which was duly sealed and remained-guarded by RAF personnel-in a flower-filled sitting room for nearly two days. It was subsequently transported by rail from the local station, close by the Highland castle, to London’s Euston Station. The Duke’s body was then taken by motorised hearse to Windsor Castle to lie in the Albert Memorial Chapel. Soon thereafter, Princess Marina, accompanied by a Lady-in-Waiting, Lady Mary Herbert, arrived at the chapel bearing a bunch of red and white roses from the garden at Coppins. She asked to be left alone with her late husband for a private farewell. After some fifteen minutes, Marina emerged and returned home to Iver.
In the interim, the King, through the office of the Lord Chamberlain, commanded that there should be four weeks of court mourning. He had travelled south from Balmoral, arriving by special train in London, on 27 August, accompanied by the Queen and the Gloucesters to prepare for the funeral. The Member of Parliament and socialite, Henry ‘Chips’ Channon, who was a good friend and onetime London neighbour of the Duke and Duchess of Kent, noted that everyone was ‘shocked and depressed’ at the news. Channon also observed that the death of Prince George’s ‘tactful and efficient’ private secretary, John Lowther, meant that dealing with administrative matters, including the arrangements for the funeral, was to prove more difficult for the late Duke’s office than would otherwise have been the case. Given the short timescale, many of those who were to attend Prince Edward’s funeral received their invitation by telegram.
As the morning of 29 August dawned, Marina prepared herself for husband’s funeral. She was supported throughout the service in St George’s Chapel by the Queen and Prince George’s mother, Queen Mary, the dowager queen. Although the latter was privately distraught, for the Duke of Kent was said to have been her favourite son, the old Queen maintained a stoical stance that day, her face shielded-as was Marina’s-by a thick black veil. Atop the coffin was a simple wreath of flowers from Coppins, together with Prince George’s Air Commodore’s cap. Among those attending were the Dutch Queen (Wilhelmina), the Kings of Norway, Greece and Yugoslavia, as well as the Prince George’s personal detective, Evans, and his chauffeur. Particularly poignant was the presence of Mrs Charlotte ‘Lala’ Bill, the Duke’s childhood nurse, who had travelled down from her home at West Newton on the Sandringham estate. The Duke of Windsor (the former King Edward VIII and the brother to whom the Duke of Kent had been closest in the past) who was currently serving as Governor of the Bahamas, was represented, at the King’s personal direction, by Sir Lionel Halsey, a distinguished seamen and retired Vice-Admiral, who had served in Edward’s household (when Prince of Wales) as Comptroller and Treasurer.
At the end of the service, writes Stella King somewhat melodramatically, ‘it seemed at one moment that [Princess Marina] would have hurled herself into the [royal] vault’ beside her husband’s body’ had it not been for the ‘restraining arms’ of the Queen. The same source provides a clue as to why this was so: it seems the Duchess of Kent had not wanted her late husband’s body placed in the vault of St George’s Chapel at all, preferring a grave in the open air, such as was to be found at the Royal Burial Ground at Frogmore. Evidently, the Duke of Kent had hated ‘gloomy royal vaults’. King George VI-who cried openly at the funeral-would later write movingly that, ‘I have attended very many family funerals in the Chapel but none…have moved me in the same way…’ Subsequently, on the afternoon of 13 September, following Sunday lunch with Grand Duchess Xenia (who had temporarily relocated to Scotland during wartime), the King travelled north from Balmoral for an overnight stay at Dunrobin, so as to view the site of the air crash and personally thank the locals who had worked so diligently to recover the bodies of the deceased. His Majesty was particularly struck that a piece of ground some 200 yards in length by 100 yards across was so badly scorched (unsurprising given that the plane had a fuel load of around 2,400 gallons) and noted that ‘the impact must have been terrific.’
To this day, the accident has been a cause of endless speculation in various publications and on-line discussion forums. These include the theory that the Duke had been killed on the orders of British Intelligence due to his alleged pro-German views. Meanwhile, a 2001 book, titled Double Standards on Rudolf Hess’s wartime stay in Britain also alludes to the possibility that the Duke of Kent’s flying boat may have been route to Loch More to pick up the German who was allegedly being held at nearby Braemore Lodge. Another postulation was that Prince George had been at the controls himself, a view restated through BBC Wales, in December 2003, by Margaret Harris, the niece of the sole survivor, Flight Sergeant Jack (who died in 1976). Mrs Harris was quoted as saying that her uncle had told her late father ‘in confidence’ that he had pulled the Duke ‘out of the pilots position’. Yet, in an article for the Daily Mail in July 2021, the author Christopher Wilson states that he had once spoken to a Leading Aircraftsman Arthur Baker, who informed him that he had been a member of the RAF search-and-rescue team sent to retrieve the bodies from the crash. Baker apparently stated that the Duke of Kent’s body (recognisable from his flying suit) was found some 50 yards from the wreckage on a bed of heather. Prince George, he claimed, had a pack of playing cards (perhaps Lexicon) still in his left hand. So the evidence from these two sources alone is contradictory. However, according to Arthur Baker, he also found the body of a woman at the crash site. When he informed his Sergeant of this, he was evidently told “to cover her [remains] up quick” and remove them from the site. Baker was also told “What you’ve seen here, you speak about to nobody.” Interestingly, according to Margaret Harris, her uncle, Flight Sergeant Jack had also alleged that ‘a mysterious extra [sixteenth] person’ was on board the flight that afternoon. However, in this case, no mention was ostensibly made as to the sex of the person. If, as alleged, there were indeed sixteen people on board the flight (that is the figure written at the time in the personal diary entry for 25 August of Sir Alan ‘Tommy’ Lascelles Assistant Private Secretary to the King) to this day, there has been no indication as to who that sixteenth person was. One theory mentioned on a recent (March, 2026) documentary on Britain’s Channel 5, The Forgotten Prince: The Mystery of the Duke of Kent, was that the number of bodies might have been initially miscounted amid the confusion of the strewn wreckage on the hillside.
What is indisputable today, is that many still wonder how an experienced crew captained by an Australian Flight Lieutenant Frank Goyen, with around 1000 flying hours on ocean patrols, could have made such an error as to descend into low cloud, when the normal procedure would have been to try and gain altitude. One commentator, Roy C Nesbit (a former RAF navigator) stated in the January 1990 edition of Aeroplane Monthly that the crash was caused by instrument error, probably the new gyro-magnetic compass. A few years earlier, when the journalist Robin McWhirter investigated ‘Crash of W4026’ for a radio broadcast, he found that all the documentation relating to the Court of Inquiry was no where to be found. However, it has to be noted that just weeks after the crash, on 7 October 1942, Sir Archibald Sinclair, the Air Minister, outlined to the House of Commons, the salient findings of the Inquiry. These are detailed in the official record of the House, Hansard. Sinclair noted that ‘the accident occurred because the aircraft was flown on a track other than that indicated in the flight plan given to the pilot…’. Blame was placed on Flight Lieutenant Goyen with the observation that ‘the weather encountered should have presented no difficulties to an experienced pilot.’ It was further observed that the engines were ‘under power’ when the aircraft hit the ground.
However, in 2024, a retired policeman turned investigative journalist, Michael Morgan indicates in his book, The Death of Prince George, the Duke of Kent that it might not have been Frank Goven who was actually flying the plane. When examining the papers of Sydney Wood Smith, the third pilot on board the plane, which were held in the National Archives of Australia, he came across a newly uncovered section of the Inquiry’s Report which seems to suggest that the more senior officer on board (but not as experienced as Goven for this particular aircraft type), Wing Commander Thomas Moseley, might have been at the controls (his name listed in one section as “First Pilot”). He also mentions the possibility of instrument error. Just as worrying, he has airmen on the ground flipping coins to decide who would form the crew of this prestigious flight by a senior royal. Morgan reiterates his findings during an interview for the Channel 5 documentary on the Duke’s death which was aired in March 2026.
Was it thus the case that the RAF was all-too willing to let public explanation (i.e. the Inquiry Report) of the Duke of Kent’s death disappear because it would have revealed serious institutional errors, and left the reputation of one of their most senior officers in tatters? Michael Morgan is certainly of the opinion, as he indicated in an interview with The Times in 2024, that ‘the authorities may have been only too happy for the conspiracy theories to later develop and flourish – acting as a form of disinformation, diverting attention away from the real issues.’ Yet, he went further: ‘The blaming of Flight Lieutenant Frank Goyen is a travesty of justice. I have found before [when investigating other cases] that the RAF is very quick to put the blame on the pilot to deflect from others who may be responsible. In terms of the RAF, this is a catalogue of complete mismanagement.’ Again, Morgan stands firm to this viewpoint in the recent Channel 5 documentary.
No doubt the conjecture and theories will continue, but for the British royal family, and more particularly for Princess Marina and her children, the Duke’s death was a loss that was and, no doubt, continues to be felt keenly to this day.
Robert Prentice is a biographer and regular contributor to ‘Majesty’ magazine in the United Kingdom. His biography of the late Duke of Kent’s sister-in-law, ‘Princess Olga of Yugoslavia: Her Life and Times’ is available to purchase in hardback through Amazon.
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.
In the early hours of 9 April, Crown Princess Märtha and her husband Olav were awakened by a phone call from an aide, bringing the devastating news of an invasion by German military forces. With her mind in a whirl, Mårtha immediately awakened her three children, instructing them to dress for a mountain hike. Ragnhild, the eldest, would later recall that ‘the clearest sign that something was wrong was that it was our parents themselves who woke us up.’ After eating a hasty breakfast, at around 6 a.m. Märtha , Olav and their three children (Ragnhild, Astrid and Harald) set out from their home, some twenty kilometres to the west of Oslo, for the Royal Palace in central Oslo, in a convoy of three cars. The Crown Prince was at the wheel of his own car, his wife and children beside him. Olav-who was driving at great speed-had already decided that if anyone tried to stop him, he would run them down.
German troops march down Karl Johan Gate, the Royal Palace clearly visible behind.
On arrival at the Royal Palace, everything was in a state of flux. The royal family departed the royal residence at 7 a.m. travelling in the direction of the Østbane railway station in order to take a special train to Hamar to avoid capture. The members of the Norwegian parliament, the Storting, were also on board the train. The group was led and organised by the Storting President, Carl Joachim Hambro. It had been at his suggestion that the royal family accompanied the parliamentary group. Just as the train passed through Lillestrøm, the town was bombed, although the focus was fortunately on the nearby airport at Kjeller. The entourage travelled onwards towards Hamar with German soldiers and aircraft in hot pursuit.
By the early evening, the royal party 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. It was also at Elverum that the Storting gave the King and government the authority to govern the country for as long as the war lasted (“The Elverum Mandate”). However, with so much uncertainty prevailing, a decision was made to send Crown Princess Märtha and the royal children over the border into neutral Sweden, for reasons of safety. Among those accompanying them were Olav’s trusted aide, Major Nicolai Ramm Østgaard (who would almost immediately return to his duties with the Crown Prince), his wife Ragni and their ten-year-old son Einar. Also in the royal entourage was Signe Svendsen, Prince Harald’s nurse; as well as Ragnhild and Martha’s Swedish governess Maja Thorén. Another Swedish national, the Crown Princess’s maid, Edla Norberg completed the party. The royal convoy, consisting of three cars, crossed the border into Sweden from Trysil at 00:50 hours on 10 April.
The events surrounding the party’s crossing into Sweden are the subject of debate. There are two versions:. In Brita Rosenberg’s biography of Princess Astrid, the latter recounts that Swedish border guards did not want to raise the border barrier and only did so at the last minute when their Norwegian driver indicated that he would drive straight through unless they did so.
Einar Østgaard, in his 2005 book about Crown Princess Mårtha, which makes use of his father’s notes and journals, takes issue with this account: ‘The claim that Crown Princess Märtha was denied access to Sweden was printed for the first time over forty years after crossing the border on the night of 10 April 1940.’ He is of the opinion that this version must be due to a misremembering. The author also cites his mother Ragni, who served as the Crown Princess’s Lady-in-Waiting, later describing an undramatic border crossing: ‘None of us had passports, but at the Swedish border station, Nikko (her husband, Nikolai Østgaard) was out explaining who it was, and there was no difficulty in getting past.’
Either way, the convoy continued to the winter resort of Sälen to stay at the well-known Högfjällshotellet, arriving at half past three in the morning. As it was a glorious sunny day and the royal children spent most of the time skiing on the nearby slopes, while their anxious 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. On 10 April, the King had met with the German Minister Kurt Bräuer in the High School at Elverum. Bräuer set out the demands of his masters in Berlin: the legitimate Norwegian government must resign, and the King must appoint Vidkun Quisling of the right-wing Nasjonal Samling (National Unity) party as Norway’s Prime Minister and approve the formation of a pro-German government led by him. King Haakon subsequently presented these demands to officials of the legitimate Johan Nygaardsvold government during an extraordinary Council of State held in nearby Nybergsund (where they had relocated). The King made it clear that they must decide what course of action they wished to take, but added that he would not bow to these German demands and if the government decided to agree to them, he would abdicate. The government, in turn, fully backed the King. King Haakon’s “no” and the government’s approval thereof were formulated as a Royal Decree and signed by the King, the Prime Minister and Minister of State Bredo Rolsted.
When the Germans learned of this decision, they were infuriated. The following day, Heinkel 111 bombers of the German Luftwaffe bombed both Elverum and Nybergsund, where the King and Crown Prince were sheltering, killing dozens of people. Crown Princess Märtha was subsequently relieved to learn from newly-arrived Norwegian guests at the hotel that, although shaken, both the King and Crown Prince Olav were uninjured. This news was corroborated by the hotel manager who had been in Nybergsund at the time of the attacks, in an attempt to obtain information on behalf of the Crown Princess. From first-hand reports carried in the Swedish press, it became clear that King Haakon was the key target. At one stage, he and his son Olav were forced to take shelter in a ditch to avoid being fired on by the low-flying Heinkel bombers.
King Haakon (2nd left) and son Crown Prince Olav (extreme left) literally run for their lives at Eleverum on 11 April 1940
An early visitor to Sälen was the Storting President Carl Joachim Hambro, who was en route to Stockholm. He recalls in his memoirs arriving in time for breakfast and apologising to the Crown Princess for ‘being so unkempt and not having had time to shave.’ Märtha, clearly having maintained her sense of humour merely laughed and replied, ‘Me neither.’ He brought with him a letter written by King Haakon at Nybergsund addressed to his sister (and Märtha’s mother) Princess Ingeborg. The latter arrived at the winter resort a few days later, visibly tired and looking somewhat older, according to Ragni Østgaard. Yet, Ingeborg was also ‘filled with a glowing hatred of the Germans’ for her homeland of Denmark had also recently been occupied. Märtha’s mother was also deeply concerned for the welfare of her brother, King Haakon (formerly Prince Carl of Denmark until his accession to the throne of Norway in 1905) and her son-in-law (and nephew) Olav.
The Swedish authorities were by now growing increasingly nervous of the presence of Norwegian royalty in an area so close to the border. What if, they reasoned, the Germans accidentally bombed the hotel due to a “navigation error” or if a kidnapping attempt was made to seize the royal party? The Swedish county governor decided to act and asked the royal party leave the hotel. In order not to attract attention, on 18 April, the royals and their entourage departed in the middle of the night, and headed southwards by car (which almost upturned in a snow drift) towards Uppsala. Thanks to Princess Ingeborg making use of family connections, it was arranged that the royal party could take temporary residence at Count Carl Bernadotte of Wisborg’s home at Rasbo. They would remain there for ten days, before proceeding to Stockholm and Drottningholm Palace.
At Drottningholm, King Gustav proved to be welcoming host but made it clear, through an adjutant, that there would be no discussion of the war at the dinner table. This was interesting, as otherwise Gustav had taken a keen interest in developments throughout Europe, with maps spread out over a billiard table nearby. However, it was noticeable that there was none pertaining to Norway. This particular map had been removed, prior to the arrival of the Norwegian contingent, perhaps out of tact. The Crown Princess tried to distract herself with games of gin rummy and bridge. Meanwhile Norwegians in Sweden were told not to openly celebrate their National Day on 17 May.
So how did the Crown Princess now continue to obtain news of what was happening across the border? Märtha acquired a quality radio set and each evening she and Ragni Østgaard would listen to the late night news bulletin from London. Perhaps Märtha even managed to tune in to the National Day service broadcast from the Norwegian Seamen’s Church in London, as King Haakon and Crown Prince Olav managed to do in a holiday chalet in Northern Norway? She also had the services of the Norwegian diplomat Jen Bull, who acted as a liaison between Märtha and the Norwegian Legation in Stockholm. Bull had previously served (1925-1931) as a Counsellor in the Norwegian legation in Berlin, rising to the rank of Under-Secretary of State at the Foreign Office in Oslo in 1939.
In due course, the Crown Princess was informed that King Haakon and Crown Prince Olav had departed Norway (from Tromsø) on the evening of 7 June, following a cabinet meeting held in the Bishop’s Palace, in order to continue the fight from Norwegian democracy from London. The war in Norway aside, Crown Prince Olav’s chief concern was now for the safety of his children and wife in Sweden. He had written to President Franklin D Roosevelt from Trangen, Langvatnet, as early as 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.
After observing the 82nd birthday celebrations for ‘Uncle Gustav’ the previous day at Drottningholm, on 17 June, the Crown Princess and her children moved to Ulriksdal Palace. This allowed for some more privacy, and the children were able to relax with games, picnics and boating on the inlet. Furthermore, young Harald took the opportunity to learn to swim under the instruction of Signe Svendsen. Nonetheless, there was always a watchful Swedish policeman in attendance. Interestingly, the move to Ulriksdal coincided with King Haakon learning that the Germans had informed the Administrative Council, an interim body appointed by the Norwegian Supreme Court to deal with matters of civil administration in Norway, that he should abdicate the throne. This move on the part of the German occupiers seems to have hit a raw nerve with King Gustav of Sweden who, most unusually, became involved, sending a telegram to Adolf Hitler stating that ‘I consider it my duty to personally emphasize to you, Herr Reich Chancellor, that such a measure would elicit serious disapproval among the broadest circles of the Swedish people and throughout the whole of Scandinavia. I wish therefore, before irrevocable decisions are made by you, to draw your attention through this telegram…to urge you, Mr. Chancellor, to proceed with all the moderation that can be considered possible in relation to Norway, its king and people.’ Did he now fear for his own throne?
Prince Harald of Norway in April 1940. This picture was used for his passport.
In the interim, Berlin had appointed Josef Terboven as Reichskommissar in Norway. Despite the initial refusal of the Administrative Council to comply with the abdication request, negotiations were continuing with Terboven, who was currently focused on the formulation of a future political framework for use in Norway during the occupation. Furthermore, despite King Gustav’s aforementioned telegram, there was a genuine possibility that a powerful Germany, aided by sympathetic Norwegians, could, if necessary, use leverage against Sweden, both diplomatically, economically, and militarily, to arrange for Märtha to be returned to Norway with her son and a Regency formed until Harald came of age. A number of prominent Norwegians who visited Stockholm advocated for such a solution. This idea also had its supporters within Per Albin Hansson’s Swedish government. For instance, the Swedish Justice Minister (and one-time Foreign Minister), Karl Westman, wrote in his diary as early as 19 June, mentioning his attendance at a government meeting: ‘I reiterated my question about why the friends of the Norwegian dynasty do not put the Norwegian crown princess and [prince] Harald on a plane and send them… to Oslo.’ He was writing this at a time when many Swedes believed that Märtha’s presence threatened to undermine Sweden’s neutrality when Germany was on the ascendance: Only a few days earlier German forces had entered Paris unopposed and the French were on the point of signing the surrender at Compiègne. Time Magazine would subsequently report that Crown Princess Märtha had indeed been offered ‘a regency in the name of her son, Prince Harald.’ Meanwhile, some Norwegians even harboured the-not unrealistic-suspicion that Prince Harald could be kidnapped and taken to Oslo by force.
On 27 June, the Presidential Council of the Storting, under pressure from the occupiers and recognising the need to establish a provisional government, responded tentatively to Josef Terboven’s proposal to establish a Council of the Realm to act as a collaborative body with the occupiers. In order to progress matters, they now asked the King to abdicate, giving him until 12 July to ‘renounce his constitutional functions for himself and his house.’ However, King Haakon refused to comply and, on 8 July, announced his rejection of the abdication request via a BBC radio broadcast from London, as well as formally placing his response in writing. What would this mean for the future of Norway and the monarchy going forward?
In Stockholm, Märtha, under the impression that her Swedish family (i.e. King Gustav) and Hitler were conspiring to remove King Haakon and set up a Regency, was feeling the pressure and sent a telegram to London as early as 24 June warning her husband that attempts were being made to ‘induce her’ to return with her three children to Oslo. Indeed, rumours had been circulating of a cipher telegram having been sent on 21 June by King Gustav to King Haakon to advise him to abdicate in favour of his grandson as ‘a means of saving the Norwegian people from unnecessary difficulties’. It also appears that the contents of King Gustav’s earlier telegram to Hitler may have been misconstrued or misreported for, on 22 June the British Minister in Stockholm indicated that King Gustav had telegraphed Hitler directly personally recommending the Regency option to him. Thus, London (and the Crown Princess) now believed that Gustav was the principal protagonist in this matter. Indeed, such was the fury in London that it caused Britain’s King George VI to sit down and write a very stern letter to the Swedish King. Fortunately, this was not forwarded by the British Legation in Stockholm to King Gustav, when it became clear that the meddling Swedish king had instead urged Hitler to show the utmost possible moderation in his dealings over Norway. Some commentators have taken the view that Gustav intervened simply because he believed that if the matter was not resolved soon Germany would abolish the monarchy in Norway.
Despite the strong political pressure placed on her, according to Einar Østgaard’s book, Crown Princess Märtha did not particularly want to travel to the United States. However, King Haakon and Crown Prince Olav, fearing for Märtha and the children’s safety, seemed keen that this should happen. In late June, the Crown Prince had written again to President Roosevelt from Buckingham Palace pressing 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.
On 17 July, the Norwegian Government-in-exile addressed a letter to the Storting Presidential Council, in which cautious appreciation of the work done by the Administrative Council was combined with a plain warning that ‘everything which is agreed or done at this time in respect of government in Norway must have the clear stamp of temporariness, if nothing is to be lost for the future of the country.’
On 18 July, Märtha received a telephone call from the Norwegian Minister in Washington, Wilhelm Thorleif von Munthe af Morgenstierne. He informed a somewhat nonplussed Crown Princess (who seems to have been in the dark about Crown Prince Olav’s recent correspondence with Roosevelt) that an American warship was being sent to Finland to transport her and her children to the United States. But would she go? On 20 July, Märtha received the US Minister to Norway, Mrs Florence Harriman, who was now ensconced temporarily at the United States Legation in Stockholm. Having had time to reflect on the efforts being made on her and her children’s behalf, both in London and Washington, the Crown Princess indicated to the American that she would be happy to accept President Roosevelt’s kind offer. Nevertheless, Märtha was keen to emphasise that she wanted to enter the United States ‘as quietly as possible’ and that she ‘would not be required to meet reporters or a reception committee’. Naively, the Crown Princess even expressed the hope that the date of her arrival should be kept confidential. King Gustav, on hearing of the “American plan”, 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, who deeply resented Gustav’s meddling, was quick to dismiss. Some sources also have Crown Princess Märtha and “Uncle Gustav” having a robust exchange of views on this matter in Stockholm.
However, events were already moving apace. On 22 July, Mrs Harriman had been 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 United States could be kept confidential. Indeed, just as Märtha was setting off from Ulriksdal Palace, 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.
The Crown Princess and her children on their long drive through Finland, August 1940
That same day, the Norwegian party departed Stockholm’s Central Station. Both Märtha’s father, Prince Carl and Princess Ingeborg were distressed to take leave of their beloved daughter and grandchildren. Princess Ingeborg presented Märtha with a case of jewels, including the emerald tiara that had once belonged to Empress Joséphine, the wife of Napoléon Bonaparte. This was a form of financial insurance in difficult times. King Gustav also came to the station to see them off, despite his grave reservations. They were, after all, his relations too. The plan was for the Norwegian royal party to travel by train to Haparanda, on the Swedish/ Norwegian border, with the rest of the journey, through Finland, being undertaken by cars provided by the Finnish authorities. The local Haparanda newspaper Haparandabladet soon reported on the Crown Princess’s arrival there, prior to her setting off on the second stage of the journey northwards to Petsamo. This second stage was undertaken in a convoy of four vehicles and included stops and overnight stays in Rovaniemi and Inari (Enare). A Finnish military officer, Major Carl Gustaf Wahren, accompanied the royal entourage and was responsible for security. He very kindly allowed the amiable Swedish policeman Artur Pfeiffer, with whom the children had developed a good relationship since their arrival in Stockholm, to accompany the party on this Finnish leg of their journey. Petsamo was reached on 15 August.
The Crown Princess and her children now joined the nine hundred passengers, mostly United States citizens, aboard the American Legion, bound for New York. Märtha appeared on the ship’s manifest as “Mrs Jones” and was given the use of the Captain’s cabin. Others in the royal party included the Crown Princess’s Chief of Staff, Peder Anker Wedel Jarlsberg; Lady-in-Waiting, Mrs Ragni Østgaard; the latter’s son Einar and Prince Harald’s nurse, Signe Svendsen. Touchingly, Harald was pictured clutching his beloved teddy bear. Yet, the Norwegian royal party were still very much in danger. Germany refused to guarantee the ship safe conduct and according to Time magazine, in a ruthless last-minute display of audacity, had tried to delay the sailing with a dispute over the route. It was said that the Germans preferred a more northern passage where the American Legion could be waylaid by a submarine, and Martha and her son kidnapped.
Meanwhile, King Haakon broadcast to the Norwegian people on 26 August, informing them ‘to avoid everything which is inconsistent with our national dignity; remain Norwegian in mind and thought…’ A majority of the Storting members in Oslo eventually voted for the suspension of the monarchy rather than acceptance of the original German demand for the abdication or deposing of the Royal House and negotiations continued. However, Terboven, keen to stamp his authority, eventually abandoned plans for a Council of the Realm and power rested, for the moment, with the Reichskommissariat.
Despite all the melodrama of the last few months, the Crown Princess and her entourage finally sailed into New York on 28 August. She and her three children would eventually settle in a largish brick house set in substantial grounds in Pook’s Hill, Maryland. Märtha would soon become part of President’s Roosevelt’s inner circle and was thus ideally placed to obtain first-hand knowledge of the comings and goings at the White House and in Washington’s political circles. She was also able to use her position to advance Norway’s cause in the United States.
The Crown Princess and her family on their arrival in New York.
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 biography Princess Olga of Yugoslavia: Her Life and Times published on 1 April 2021 by Grosvenor House Publishing.
RoyaltyRobert Blogger and Writer 