Escape From Darkness

Thirteen-year-old Leo Goldberger and his family crouched in a cluster of bushes on the beach. They stared out at the dark water, shivering in the damp chill, waiting for a signal.

It was October 2, 1943, and the Goldbergers were fleeing Denmark, a country in northern Europe. Leo ached at the thought of leaving behind his friends, his school, his cozy apartment. But almost overnight, Denmark had become a dangerous place for Jewish people like him and his family. Leo, his parents, and his three brothers were waiting for a boat that would smuggle them to nearby Sweden, where they would be safer.

As the minutes ticked by, Leo’s heart filled with almost unbearable fear. What if they got caught? What if the boat sank in the rough waves? What if the boat never even came? 

But there was another feeling too, and it was growing stronger: anger. Powerful, searing-hot anger. 

What have we ever done to be in hiding, to be escaping like criminals? he thought.

Just then, Leo had to put his fury on hold because there it was: a faint light blinking out on the water. This was the signal. The boat had arrived. 

Leo’s older brother grabbed the two suitcases the family had managed to take with them. Then they all waded into the icy black water, sending silent prayers out into the night.

Thirteen-year-old Leo Goldberger and his family hid in the bushes on a beach. Looking out at the dark water, they waited for a signal.

It was October 2, 1943, and the Goldbergers were escaping from Denmark, a country in northern Europe. Leo ached when he thought about leaving his friends, his school, his home. But Denmark had become a dangerous place for Jewish people like him and his family. Leo, his parents, and his three brothers were waiting for a boat that would smuggle them to nearby Sweden. They would be safer there.

As the minutes passed, Leo filled with fear. What if they got caught? What if the boat sank? What if the boat never even came? 

But there was another feeling too. It was growing stronger. He felt angry. 

What have we ever done to be hiding and escaping like criminals? he thought.

Just then, Leo saw a light blinking out on the water. This was the signal. The boat had arrived. 

Leo’s older brother grabbed the two suitcases the family had with them. Then they all walked into the icy water, sending silent prayers out into the night.

Only a few years earlier, Leo could never have imagined that he would one day be forced to flee his home. Denmark—a small country less than half the size of New York State—had been a happy, peaceful place to grow up. 

Leo and his family lived in Copenhagen, the capital city, in a beautiful neighborhood overlooking sparkling lakes. His weekends were spent playing soccer, hiking with his Boy Scout troop, and goofing around with his brothers.

Leo’s father, Eugene, was a professional singer who led prayers at Copenhagen’s Great Synagogue, a place of worship for Jewish people. The family’s life revolved around Jewish traditions and holidays, when friends would gather to share delicious feasts made by Leo’s mother, Helen. The family had recently held such a celebration for Leo’s bar mitzvah, the Jewish ceremony that marks a boy becoming an adult. He’d been showered with gifts, including a shiny new flashlight that was now his most prized possession.

Leo never felt unsafe being Jewish. Why would he? Jewish people had been living in Denmark for centuries. They were treated just like other Danish citizens, known as Danes.

Only a few years earlier, Leo could never have imagined that he would one day have to leave his home. Denmark is a small country less than half the size of New York State. It had been a happy, peaceful place for Leo to grow up. 

Leo and his family lived in Copenhagen, the capital city. They lived in a beautiful neighborhood with lakes. On weekends he played soccer, hiked with his Boy Scout troop, and goofed around with his brothers.

Leo’s father, Eugene, was a professional singer. He led prayers at Copenhagen’s Great Synagogue, a place of worship for Jewish people. The family’s life circled around Jewish traditions and holidays. Friends would gather to share tasty food made by Leo’s mother, Helen. The family had recently celebrated Leo’s bar mitzvah, the Jewish event that marks a boy becoming an adult. Leo had been given many gifts, including a flashlight that was now his most beloved belonging.

Leo never felt unsafe being Jewish. Why would he? Jewish people had been living in Denmark for hundreds of years. They were treated just like other Danish citizens, known as Danes.

But in many other countries across Europe, this was not the case. 

Jewish people had always made up a tiny part of Europe’s population. Their unique beliefs and customs—the same ones that brought Leo and his family so much joy—were viewed as strange, even suspicious, by many other Europeans. Prejudice against Jewish people, known as antisemitism, had been simmering for centuries.

Then, in the early 1930s, this prejudice bubbled over into monstrous hatred and deadly violence. A man named Adolf Hitler became the leader of Germany, just beyond Denmark’s southern border. Hitler and his political party, the Nazis, had a racist view of the world. They saw anyone who was different from them as less than human—especially Jewish people. 

Over the years that followed, Jewish Germans had their rights stolen away one by one. The Nazis passed laws that prevented them from voting, from owning property, from holding many types of jobs. Jewish people were banned from shops, restaurants, and public parks. Jewish kids were kicked out of their schools. Even more horrific was the violence that erupted—Nazis and their supporters attacked Jewish people in the streets and burned their businesses and synagogues to the ground.

Soon the terror spread beyond Germany. Hitler had a vision of conquering Europe, of building an empire based on his hateful ideas. By 1939, the Nazis had already taken over nearby Austria and parts of Czechoslovakia. In September of that year, they invaded Poland. 

Leaders in many other countries knew that Hitler had to be stopped. Soon after the invasion of Poland, Great Britain and France declared war against Germany. (They would later be joined by other countries, including the United States.)

World War II—the biggest conflict in history—had begun.

But in many other countries across Europe, this was not the case. 

Jewish people had always made up a tiny part of Europe’s population. Their special beliefs and customs were viewed as strange by many other Europeans. Antisemitism, which is the prejudice against Jewish people, had been growing.

Then, in the early 1930s, this prejudice grew into angry hatred and deadly violence. 

A man named Adolf Hitler became the leader of Germany, a country next to Denmark. Hitler and his political party, the Nazis, had racist beliefs. They saw anyone who was different from them as less than human—especially Jewish people. 

Over the years that followed, Nazis took many rights away from Jewish Germans. 

They weren’t allowed to vote, own property, or hold many types of jobs. 

Jewish people were not allowed in shops, restaurants, and public parks. Jewish kids were kicked out of their schools. There was also violence against Jewish people. Nazis and their supporters attacked them in the streets. Nazis burned down Jewish businesses and synagogues.

Soon the terror spread outside Germany. Hitler wanted to take over Europe. He wanted to build an empire based on his hateful ideas. By 1939, the Nazis had already taken over two nearby countries. In September of that year, they invaded Poland. 

Leaders in many other countries knew that Hitler had to be stopped. Soon after the invasion of Poland, Great Britain and France went to war against Germany. (They would later be joined by other countries, including the United States.)

World War II had begun.

On April 9, 1940, the Nazis invaded Denmark. “The early morning sky was blackened by roaring low-flying planes,” Leo recalls. Within a few hours, German tanks and soldiers in gray-green uniforms were stationed across Copenhagen. 

At first, however, little else changed in Denmark. Germany did not see its small northern neighbor as a threat, and it relied on Denmark to help produce food and weapons for the war. Danish leaders were able to negotiate an agreement to stay in charge and keep their own laws in place. They were determined to protect Jewish Danes from cruel Nazi laws and violence. So, for a while at least, Leo’s life went on more or less as usual. 

Still, rumors from elsewhere in Europe were beginning to swirl—chilling, barely believable rumors. Of harsh prisons called concentration camps where Jewish people were worked to the bone. Of death camps that existed solely to murder people by the thousands.

Rabbis and other leaders of Denmark’s Jewish community discouraged people from discussing such things. It was important not to panic, they said. And besides, the rumors were almost certainly just that—rumors. How could stories of such evil possibly be true?

On April 9, 1940, the Nazis invaded Denmark. Leo remembers their planes roaring across the sky. German tanks and soldiers were placed throughout Copenhagen. 

At first, however, little else changed in Denmark. Germany did not see Denmark as a threat. Germany relied on Denmark to help make food and weapons. Danish leaders were able to negotiate an agreement to stay in charge and keep their own laws in place. They wanted to protect Jewish Danes from cruel Nazi laws and violence. So, for a while, Leo’s life went on as normal. 

Still, rumors from elsewhere in Europe were beginning to spread. The rumors were chilling. They were about harsh prisons called concentration camps, where Jewish people were forced to do hard work. There were also rumors about death camps made to murder many people. The rumors seemed too horrible to be true.

Rabbis and other leaders of Denmark’s Jewish community told people not to talk about the rumors. It was important not to panic, they said. 

As years passed and the war dragged on, the fragile agreement between Denmark and Germany began to unravel. 

Most Danish people were strongly against antisemitism and hated that Nazis had taken over their peaceful country. Many began to fight back against their German occupiers. Some printed newspapers that spread information about the Nazis’ crimes. Others bombed factories and trains filled with German war supplies.

These acts of resistance infuriated the Nazis. In August 1943, they snatched control of the government away from Danish leaders. Suddenly, Jewish people in Denmark were in great danger.

The danger reached a crisis point on September 29—the day before Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. Leo and his family were at synagogue when the rabbi made a terrifying announcement: Jewish people were going to be rounded up and deported to concentration camps. A German officer who disagreed with the decision had warned Danish leaders of the Nazis’ plans. Every Jewish person needed to go into hiding—immediately.

In a panic, the Goldbergers hurried home to pack. Leo quickly grabbed a few clothes and his beloved flashlight. But he and his family had no idea what to do next. Where could they hide? What would happen to them?

As years passed and the war went on, the agreement between Denmark and Germany began to fall apart. 

Most Danish people were strongly against antisemitism. They hated that Nazis had taken over their country. Many began to fight back against the German occupiers. Some printed newspapers with information about the Nazis’ crimes. Others bombed factories and trains filled with German war supplies.

These acts of resistance made the Nazis very angry. In August 1943, they took control of the government away from Danish leaders. Now Jewish people in Denmark were in danger.

The danger reached a new high on September 29—the day before an important Jewish holiday. Leo and his family were at synagogue. The rabbi made a terrifying statement. He said Jewish people were going to be deported and sent to concentration camps. A German officer who disagreed with the decision had warned Danish leaders of the Nazis’ plans. Every Jewish person needed to go into hiding—right away.

The Goldbergers rushed home to pack. Leo packed some clothes and his flashlight. But he and his family didn’t know what to do next. Where could they hide? What would happen to them?

A couple of days later, as Leo’s father was rushing around the city trying to come up with a plan, he ran into a woman named Fanny Arnskov. The two had met through work a few years earlier. Now Fanny promised to help the Goldbergers escape.

Across the country, thousands of non-Jewish Danes like Fanny were springing into action to protect their Jewish neighbors. Families hid Jewish friends in their attics. Churches and schools opened their doors to people seeking refuge. Doctors and nurses hid thousands of Jewish people in hospital beds, creating fake medical records to disguise their identities. 

Yet it was clear that Jewish people could not stay hidden in such a small country for long. Their only hope was to escape to nearby Sweden, where the Nazis were not in control. The country was extremely close—just across a narrow body of water called the Øresund (ER-uh-suhn). Many Danes began raising money and organizing to smuggle Jewish people there by boat.

Fanny assured Leo’s father that she’d take care of everything. She put him in touch with a church leader who arranged for a small fishing boat to take the Goldbergers across the water to Sweden. All they had to do was be at a certain spot on the shore at 10 o’clock on the night of October 2—and wait for a blinking light in the distance.

A couple of days later, Leo’s father was rushing around the city trying to come up with a plan. He ran into a woman named Fanny Arnskov. The two had met through work a few years earlier. Now Fanny said she would help the Goldbergers escape.

Across the country, thousands of non-Jewish Danes like Fanny were helping their Jewish neighbors. Families hid Jewish friends in their attics. Churches and schools opened their doors to people seeking refuge. Doctors and nurses hid thousands of Jewish people in hospital beds. They made fake medical records for them so the Nazis wouldn’t know who they were.

Yet it was clear that Jewish people could not stay hidden in such a small country for long. Their only hope was to escape to Sweden, where the Nazis were not in control. The country was very close across a narrow body of water. Many Danes began raising money and organizing to get Jewish people there by boat.

Fanny told Leo’s father that she’d handle everything. A church leader Fanny knew arranged for a small fishing boat to take the Goldbergers to Sweden. All they had to do was be on the shore at 10 o’clock on the night of October 2—and wait for a blinking light.

And so, on that freezing-cold night, Leo and his family waded slowly through the icy seawater toward the light. The waves crept higher and higher until they reached Leo’s chest. Beside him, his father held tightly to Leo’s two little brothers. Leo’s older brother, Milan, struggled to drag the family’s two suitcases. Exhausted, Milan finally had to let them sink to the seafloor. 

At last, the family reached the little fishing boat. The fishermen guided them below deck, where about 20 other Jewish refugees were already hiding under grimy tarps. The stink of fish was overwhelming. Straining to see in the pitch darkness, Leo started to turn on his flashlight. But a fisherman quickly kicked it out of his hands, breaking it. Even a tiny flicker of light could put them at risk of being discovered. 

As the boat lurched through the choppy waves, Leo fought the urge to throw up. Then suddenly, they came to a stop. From the deck above, Leo heard voices and heavy footsteps: German soldiers, boarding the boat for inspection. He and the others froze in silent terror. If they were caught, everyone aboard would almost certainly be killed. 

Finally, after minutes that felt like hours, the soldiers left. The boat sailed on. And after two hours, bright lights appeared out of the darkness. The Swedish shore! 

Leo and his family had made it. They were saved.

And so, on that cold night, Leo and his family walked through the icy water toward the light. The waves reached Leo’s chest. Next to him, his father held Leo’s two little brothers. Leo’s older brother, Milan, was having a hard time carrying the family’s two suitcases. He had to let go of them. 

At last, the family got to the little fishing boat. They were led below deck, where about 20 other Jewish refugees were already hiding. The smell of fish was strong. Struggling to see in the darkness, Leo started to turn on his flashlight. But a fisherman quickly kicked it out of his hands, breaking it. Even a bit of light could put them at risk of being discovered. 

As the boat sailed through bumpy waves, Leo fought the need to throw up. Then suddenly, they stopped. Leo heard voices and footsteps above: German soldiers, getting on the boat for inspection. He and the others froze in fear. If they were caught, they would probably be killed. 

Finally, the soldiers left. The boat sailed on. And after two hours, bright lights appeared out of the darkness. The Swedish shore! 

Leo and his family had made it. They were saved.

Over the next month, hundreds of fishing boats made similar journeys across the water between Denmark and Sweden. By early November, more than 7,220 Jewish people had been brought to safety. 

As for Leo and his family, they lived in Sweden until May 1945, when World War II finally ended in Europe. But their joy at being able to return to Denmark was soon marred by impossible grief. 

After years of scattered news, the full horror of what had happened during the war came to light. More than 6 million Jewish men, women, and children had been murdered by the Nazis—two out of every three Jewish people in Europe. Today this unspeakably evil chapter in history is known as the Holocaust. 

Amid such darkness, what happened in Denmark would come to seem even more miraculous. Thousands of people—from government leaders to schoolchildren—risked their own lives to save their Jewish fellow citizens. More than 98 percent of Jewish Danes survived the war, in what is now considered one of the greatest rescue operations in history.

Today Leo Goldberger is 93. When he looks back on that October night some 80 years ago, he can still feel the burning anger of being forced to leave his home. But more than anything, he is filled with a sense of wonder at the people who saved him and thousands of others—and did so seemingly without a second thought.

“If you ask any Dane, they will tell you they just did it because it was the right thing to do,” he says. “Their deed remains a lesson of how we all ought to behave in the face of injustice and suffering.”

Over the next month, hundreds of boats made similar journeys between Denmark and Sweden. By early November, more than 7,220 Jewish people had been brought to safety. 

As for Leo and his family, they lived in Sweden until 1945, when World War II finally ended in Europe. But their joy at being able to return to Denmark was soon spoiled by extreme sadness. 

People learned that more than 6 million Jewish people had been murdered by the Nazis. That was two out of every three Jewish people who lived in Europe. Today this terrible chapter in history is known as the Holocaust. 

In the middle of such horror, what happened in Denmark would come to seem even more incredible. Thousands of people risked their own lives to save Jewish Danes. More than 98 percent of Jewish Danes survived the war. This event is remembered as one of the greatest rescues in history.

Today Leo Goldberger is 93. When he looks back on that October night, he can still feel the anger of being forced to leave his home. But more than anything, he is filled with a sense of wonder at the people who saved him and thousands of others—and did so, it seemed, without a second thought.

“If you ask any Dane, they will tell you they just did it because it was the right thing to do,” he says. They showed the world what we all should do “in the face of injustice and suffering.”