I celebrated my 9th birthday on April 15th 1945. My kind and generous mother let me have a party even though it was hard to find enough ingredients to make a cake. But celebrate we did, and had a great time.
Everyone became aware that the war was drawing to a rapid close, but the families of the Nesttun-Boys could not feel the same elation. All through the war we had no idea if the men were alive or dead. Never a word about their whereabouts or condition. This was because they were political prisoners and not covered by the Geneva conventions. I can remember telling my mother “I just know dad is alive, I can feel it inside”
The week before peace was declared my mother and Marit’s mother sat for hours sewing and chatting while they tried to get our national costumes ready for the ‘freedom parade’ they knew would soon take place.
Here is a photo of us taken by a ‘proper’ photographer on May 8th when we went to Bergen with our mothers to watch the parade. People were jubilant, dressed in their national costumes (always popular on special days in Norway) and the red, white and blue flags were blowing in the breeze. Never has a nation been so patriotic and proud.
My grandparents were getting older, but not in bad health. I recall many family parties and much joy during the next few weeks, but the fear and worry about dad and what had happened to him and his friends never left us.