Iceland seemed an unlikely place to visit; my East German expertise brought me many more invitations to Germany than this quite unexpected one.
Like so many other friends and neighbours, at an early hour, I was in our little room relaxing before taking on the daily routine. The phone rang, bringing me slightly nearer to that routine. My wife, Monire, answered as usual and knocked on the door. “It’s from Reykjavík – a professor with an English name, Whitehead, wants to speak to you.” I took the receiver. “Is that Professor David Childs? Professor, I’d like to invite you to Iceland!” I was asked to give lectures on East Germany and the Soviet Union.
It was March 1995. It was the last thing I had expected that morning. Monire and I had been thinking about holidays but Iceland had not been on the shortlist. Somewhere like Croatia or Spain were slightly more likely. None the less, only days later, I was on my way. In the coach, taking the passengers from the plane to Reykjavik Airport reception, a British couple asked me if a was a tourist. “I suppose I am,” I answered.
A newsworthy reception
But on getting off, a smartly clad, straight-backed, middle-aged lady stepped forward and, with a bunch of flowers, welcomed me to Iceland. I was seated at a table on which were several papers that appeared to be Stasi documents. “Are these Stasi papers genuine?” someone asked as the TV cameras went into action. I pointed out I needed more time to study them but they did look authentic, East German secret police documents. Minutes later I attended a crowded reception with members of the Icelandic elite. As usual, at such events, the main emphasis seemed to be on gossip, food and drink.
After spending the night in a university guest flat, I felt like being a tourist in the bright sunlight. I wrapped up and started out, surprised by a hot air outdoor swimming pool. In the distance I could see Hallgrímskirkja, the national cathedral which, locals say, stands guard over Reykjavík. The church is a national sanctuary in Iceland, named after the 17th-century clergyman Hallgrímur Pétursson, and is one of the most visited places by tourists, but not by me.
World War II
I spent the rest of the day with Professor Whitehead. We had lunch and then I gave my lecture to students about the fall of the Berlin Wall and the exposure of the Stasi system. To be honest, they did not seem all that interested. However, I was given a souvenir mug, Ferda Skrifstofa Studenta, which I still have. The professor told me how he came to live in Iceland. He was the son of a British officer, one of the small force ordered to occupy Iceland in 1940.
Nazi Germany attacked Denmark and Norway on 9 April 1940. In Denmark, King Christian X, convinced his army could not fight off a German invasion, surrendered almost immediately. Contrary to the situation in other countries under German occupation, most Danish institutions continued to function relatively normally until 1945.
Both the Danish government and king remained in the country in an uneasy relationship between a democratic and a totalitarian system until 1943 when the Danish government stepped down in protest against German demands that included instituting the death penalty for sabotage.
Iceland’s uncertain neutrality
Iceland had previously been ruled by Denmark but in 1918 had become an independent state. It was, however, still in a ‘personal union’ with the Danish king. When Denmark and Norway were occupied in 1940 by Germany, Iceland declared itself a neutral. It had no defence force, yet occupied a crucial position in the North Atlantic, so Prime Minister Churchill gave the order to occupy, no doubt hoping the outcome would be more successful than the failed plan to save Norway.
Germany had subdued Denmark in one day in April 1940. On that same day, Britain sent a message to Iceland offering assistance in maintaining its independence. Iceland, however, refused, believing its neutrality would save it from invasion.
Despite this, the initial force of the rather poorly trained and equipped Royal Marines landed on 10 May 1940 in Operation Fork. They received a mixed reception. In June the first elements of ‘Z’ Force arrived from Canada to relieve the British, who returned to the defence of the UK. Three Canadian battalions garrisoned the island until drawn down for the defence of the UK in the spring of 1941, and were replaced by British garrison forces.
An interesting episode involved the British vice-consul George Edward Hoblyn. He had leaked the information about the British occupation to the German consul Werner Gerlach just a day before, and then turned up at the German consulate to search it. After a thorough search, the consul, his wife and daughter were arrested and held on HMS Berwick. Hoblyn and his German wife were later arrested, and their eight-month-old son was put in foster care in Iceland. What happened to the Hoblyn family no one seems to know.
Arrival of the Americans
On 7 July 1941, US President Roosevelt announced that the United States had landed forces in Iceland to prevent the Germans from taking control of the island’s vital shipping and air ways. Iceland’s strategic position along the sea-lanes, perfect for air and naval bases, gave new importance to the island. The 1st Marine Brigade, of approximately 4,100 troops, garrisoned Iceland until early 1942, when they were replaced by US Army troops. After initial protests, Iceland cooperated with the British and then the Americans, but officially remained neutral throughout World War II.
Nevertheless, US ties helped the economy of Iceland which prospered during the course of the war, amassing considerable currency reserves in foreign banks. In addition, after the war “the country received the most Marshall Aid per capita of any European country in the immediate postwar years”.
Stasi documents
My invitation had come at a time when US-Soviet rivalry continued but in less severe forms. There was still much undercover activity and, with German reunification in 1990, there was a rush to investigate the millions of files the East German secret police (Stasi) had not been able to destroy.
Anyone who thought they were likely to have such a file could apply. I did so and only weeks later my file was discovered. I decided to go to Berlin and to visit the great hall where an attendant brought my documents. It was like a cathedral of hell. There were so many individuals, old and young, male and female, very quiet, and no one smiled at their neighbour. Some had been perpetrators, some had been blackmailed. All were victims.
The documents related to me, dated 15 March 1985, were labelled Streng Geheim! (top secret).
For my second speech I was with several others and I talked about Soviet methods in the Cold War. We had a considerable audience drawn from several bodies. After the usual handshaking and compliments I was soon on my way to the airport and back to London.
My last encounter with the Icelandic professor was two or three years later. We were both looking at ties in the sale in Selfridges, London.
