The War Diaries of Lensgrevinde Lucie-Marie Ludovika Anastasia Adelheid Karola Hedevig Reventlow 1940- 1945 Family Tree A Christian-Einar Agnes M. Moltke F.L.E. Reventlow Divorced First Marriage Curt l.H.G.M.E.E.Haugwitz-Hardenberg-Reventlow ___ Anna-Ermegård Abela Reventlow John Patrick Boswell ____ Lucie C.C.J. Haugwitz-Hardenberg-Reventlow Annabella (called Be) First marriage John James Patrick Curt l.H.G.M.E.E.Haugwitz-Hardenberg-Reventlow is brother to Lucie-Marie L.A.A.K.H. Haugwitz-Hardenberg-Reventlow B Christian-Einar Lucie-Marie L.A.A.K.H. F.L.E. Reventlow Haugwitz-Hardenberg- Second Marriage Reventlow First marriage Patrick H. Grinling ___ Benedicte C.H.S.E.M.M.A. Reventlow called Benika Christian Gavin Rupert (Gorm) Christian D.E.P.F. Reventlow Anastasia (Anafia) Erik Mourier ___ Naka Reventlow called Besa Ove Alli Steen Suzanne C Bertram Walker Lucie-Marie L.A.A.K.H. called Bertie Haugwitz-Hardenberg- Reventlow, called Mum Second marriage Christian-Einar died in 1929 and Lucie-Marie married Bertram in 1940 The journey from Brahetrolleborg, Fyn, Denmark, to England. Isaiah: 35 As birds Alying so will the Lord of Hosts defend Jerusalem; defending also he will deliver it; and passing over he will preserve it. England Brahetrolleborg I am homesick for you – I see you in the night, peaceful and calm with dark spires standing clearly against the moonlit sky and the Great Bear just over the church with the North Star over the bell tower, and I see you in daytime, now in these October days when the chestnut avenue is golden and a smell of moist leaves hangs all around now when the leaves are falling all over the lawn. I am longing to sweep them up as I always do. Hans Peter will make tidy heaps around the trees, brown golden heaps out of which a few chestnuts peep like lovely gypsy eyes – the geese will be back from their autumn trip to the sea and hundreds of duck will take shelter on the lake from shooting parties and I pray that their sanctuary is safe. The old heron will sit like a tall immovable sentinel on the large Douglas Air and there will still be autumn crocus and the last oh so sweet honeysuckle and just a few white roses – why are the last roses always white, the yard will be empty except for a dog or two lying on the doorstep in the sun – perhaps a tradesman’s car will call and rouse them and the dead leaves will whirl in the wind in the corner near the kitchen, as they always do, and have done for centuries. Symbols of all those who have come to you Trolleborg, danced about, whirled in the wind and have gone. And the door to the archives will be closed with the red vine growing low over it. I wonder, will they cut it and notice how low it grows when I am away? My archives, where I spent so very many hours among all these volumes and volumes of letters – thoughts resting from the world and the turmoil of life, thoughts, stories written down and almost forgotten, never to be read again perhaps and their writers gone to where they no more need to see through a glass darkly, but face to face with all that is good – God. For you my archive I am writing this my story; not for publication, posterity or any other reason but that this little book may rest there with all the others written by those who have lived at Trolleborg and loved it and helped to build it to what it is, strong. I wonder, did any love you as I do and bear such longing, such homesickness? Oh to see your lovely lovely trees – every one of them I know like a friend. I long to put my head against you and say – “Home is the sailor, home from the sea” – or home is your child, home from the war. God bless you Trolleborg and you my children who will live there and love it and cherish it and plant their trees. February 28 th 1940 When Besa my daughter wrote to me that she would like to get married I had a feeling I must go and get her settled before Hitler did anything to Denmark and I Alew on February 28th. 1940, from London to Amsterdam - with Else Reventlow to Amsterdam. We spent many hours at the airport waiting for fog over Denmark to lift, no chance they said in the end, we should have to spend the night, so we went to a hotel – driven by Gunnar Larsen who, I am glad to say, I told what I thought of the Nazis. Amsterdam was a blaze of light, they put on every light available so as not to be bombed by mistake. After the London blackout this was dazzling and Else and I went sightseeing lights and could not see enough. We saw also quite international crowds and people speaking German which seemed queer, one felt ones enemies had got nearer somehow and on the other hand they were not enemies any longer because one need not fear them. a1 I wonder how much better off Europe would be now if one had feared these German “tourists” a little more, but then the 5th Column had not been invented nor the word Quisling and there was no Blitzkrieg only a Sitzkrieg. We started early next morning. Elsa, our three torpedoed Danish seamen, who were so very shaken and nervous, and about 20 other Danes. We soon got off in a big Fokker, warm and comfy above the clouds, 4000 m high, which seemed to affect the hearing of the passengers. We Alew from 7 a.m. to 2 p.m. when we suddenly and slowly started to come down! More ear popping and then we were in winter, a snowstorm and Denmark! We came down over a lake. All, every one of us, guessed where we were and all guessed different and all guessed wrong, for we had come to Copenhagen from the North and were over the Furesø. It got so bumpy that one could hardly keep sitting down and then there Alashed the electric sign “put on your straps” and we were over Copenhagen. I saw Langelinie Pavilion, the Airst known landmark and then the aerodrome and “is it real?” said Else “are we really home? Oh look a Dannebrog” and there it was, brave in the snow, and we had come home. Travelling with a Diplomat eases all the custom paraphernalia and then an ofAicial came and said to me, “there is a plane for Esbjerg and one for Aalborg if you like!” to which I said grandly: “Nej tak, jeg skal til Fyn”. Had I but known! The Big Belt had been icebound for months and they had a bus service over it from Korsør to Nyborg lit up by electric lamps all on the ice. I went to the hotel Phoenix and rang up home and heard all their voices and then talked to the porter who told me a boat, an icebreaker, was sailing that afternoon. So I had lunch with Malte Bruhn who wanted to know all about English friends I had never heard about and then got to the station, but it proved easier to get from London to Copenhagen than from Copenhagen to Fyn. When we got to Korsør all rushed and when we, who had been at the end of the train got to the icebreaker the captain said “no more, I can have 200 passengers and have already 250”, so 20 of us were left behind, and I felt terrible, still there might be a boat next day and there was the telephone. Korsør was crowded but I got a room and walked about and longed for it to be next day, and next day there was another icebreaker and more people, crowds and crowds and where you stood or sat down you had to stay, too full to move. Still we got across at dusk to Knudshoved, and there were Besa and Curt and Naka and a car and we drove home to Rocca as they said Trolleborg had to be warmed Airst and Naka had arranged dinner for us at Obisch with Erik Mourier who was suddenly one of the family and very shy with me. And I was home. Then we got settled at Trolleborg, Besa and I, and started preparing for her trousseau and wedding. She Aixed it for April 6th, a Saturday, as Erik could not Aind time before, on account of the spring sowing, spring indeed! Although it was March it felt like January and I went every day into the yard and moved a little snow away to where it could melt easier. Much had been frozen, but the snow had saved much also. We went to Copenhagen, Besa and I for a week and had a lovely time buying clothes, curtains and all sorts of things. I think she got all she wanted and a lovely wedding gown by Balenciaga, she looked beautiful in it. Copenhagen seemed cheerful but apprehensive like a landscape in the sun with the thunderclouds coming up. In all the hotels you heard more German than Danish and nobody seemed to think that there was any danger in that. I remember wondering why so many Germans came to Denmark and hoping the blockade was taking effect. The Altmark episode had just happened and there were heated discussions about it, very heated, most people blamed the Norwegians for not controlling their waters better.