For the first time ever, Lars Pedersen lifts (top image) here and talks about his experiences as a Bible smuggler during the Cold War in the Eastern Bloc around 1980 for the Danish European Mission, including a visit to a Romanian pastor. God had prepared the priest for the couriers to come.
"Lightning struck me"
Lars tells us: I worked at the Christian rehabilitation center for addicts, Betesda, near Brande in 1979, and here I often read the Danish European Mission magazine. It was terrible reading about people who were persecuted for their faith, who couldn't buy a Bible or write about their experiences in prison in the Eastern Bloc. People were persecuted if they opened their mouths and spoke out against the system.
At a meeting, I got to know someone who worked at a secret base in Germany helping persecuted Christians in Eastern Europe. It was as if lightning struck me. I wanted to do the same. I wanted to make a difference and contribute.
I got off the couch and met with the founder of the Danish European Mission, Hans Kristian Neerskov, in Copenhagen. He confirmed that there was a base from which Bibles, literature and practical help was smuggled to persecuted Christians in Eastern Europe.
He had a contact person in Jutland for me to contact, and he sent a telex message to the base asking if they needed another employee.
Image: Lars received a somewhat curt telex with expectations, including instructions that he needed a haircut.
The answer was that I needed a haircut as I was long-haired back then, look like a man and have no expectations of what I should do. I said yes right away.
All smugglers had aliases
Niels Vestergård, who was the head of the social educational rehabilitation center, Betesda, drove me to Munich. I was accommodated in an apartment with an employee from the base. He informed me of the importance of telling family and friends as little as possible about the work I was doing (I worked at a printing company in Munich); the identity of the base must not be revealed to anyone.
All base employees had to choose a cover name. If we were caught at the border with books, we didn't know the identities of the other employees. I became "Eric". All mail was sent to a post office box in Munich.
Image: In addition to cover names, employees also used code language. The codes mean: I have the Bibles, I have returned the Bibles and the Bibles have been confiscated.
No one could call the base, but we could call out. Strange to think about today, when everyone has cell phones and internet. In 1980, fax machines barely existed. A few days later, I was taken to the base an hour's drive from Munich in the direction of Wasserburg. I was given a room in a three-story house with only Danes. On the top floor lived a family, on the middle floor lived me + the mechanic and on the bottom floor lived a family with two children who went to a German school.
On the other side of the road was the base with a print shop, warehouse, car repair shop and storage for the smuggling vehicles. There were keys and alarm systems everywhere. About 500 meters from the base were two large houses with an alarm zone and security fence. The boss lived here with his wife and children. Three German and four Danish employees also lived there. In this house there were also some meeting rooms. Every day we started with a Bible lesson where we took turns leading a devotional. The language was of course German. As I had lived near Germany and was used to German TV, it wasn't a big problem. Everyone picked up German quickly. On the base, we only used aliases for each other. We were also taught not to ask questions or dig into things. If we were caught at the border, we knew as little as possible. I saw that as natural and observed it as a natural thing. In the beginning, I helped the mechanic. When the cars came in from a trip, they had to be serviced. When the courier came home, a defect list was filled out for things that needed to be repaired. I was also in the print shop, where things were printed that were smuggled into the East.
Smuggling cars with double bottoms
Image: The Bible smugglers handed in reports on the condition of the cars upon their return.
The cars had double bottoms that could be opened in clever ways, like pressing two buttons at the same time and the floor would open. Or lifting up some tiles from the floor of the car. Rumor had it that the cars were made in a workshop in Switzerland. The base had 5-6 smuggling vehicles and caravans with
Double bottom. It goes without saying that all servicing had to be done at the base, as an outside mechanic would be suspicious. I can't remember how much the cars could hold. At the base there was also a tow truck (in case the car broke down in the east) + 5-6 passenger cars. One of the employees was the "tour leader" and organized the tours - where to go/who to visit and what to bring.
Were officially tourists
After 6 months, I made my first trip to Hungary. First, we got the addresses of the two contacts we were going to visit. We had to deliver children's clothes to an orphanage and Bibles to a contact. We filled out a fake power of attorney to drive the car in German.
Image: Lars has saved an example of a fake power of attorney
If we were stopped, the border guard would probably wonder what two Danes were doing in a German car. So we had to have a cover story ready. Our story was that the driver had borrowed the car from a German friend and that I was along for the ride (and knew nothing). So we knew very little about each other.
We had to play normal tourists on a trip and do normal tourist things on the trip. We packed the car and drove out from the base in the evening. All the couriers drove in and out in the evening when it was dark so the neighbors wouldn't suspect anything.
Image: Ticket from a visit to the citadel in Budapest
The next day we drove to the border and got visas. Everything went smoothly and without any problems. The trips I remember best are the trips to Romania. The country was gray and sad and there were poor people everywhere. We went to visit a priest who had been imprisoned for 10 years because of his faith. Now he was out and running an underground church. We spent a day trying to find the block where he lived. We couldn't come during the day because every block had its own informants and everyone would see that we were Westerners. We came to him late at night when it was dark and tried to dress like Easterners. Fortunately, the apartment was easy to find and we knocked. An old woman opened the door and showed us into the living room. The priest was sitting at a table set for four people. The priest was waiting for us and the food was ready.
How did they know we were coming? No one had said anything (they had no phone and no contact with the base). He smiled and pointed up in the air. God said you would come tonight and the food is ready. We ate and he told us about his 10 years in Romanian prison/prison camp in Russian/German. No bitterness or anger. He was grateful for the role God had given him. He is one of the warmest people I met in the East. He cried when we delivered 50 Bibles. I will never forget that. Unfortunately, I don't remember his name.
The pastor cried when we delivered 50 Bibles Lars
Another memory was when we visited the Communist Museum in Bucharest. There were a lot of pictures of people that Nicolai Ceausescu executed by hanging. In one of the rooms, an old lady was knitting.
Ticket to the Communist Party History Museum in Bucharest
When we came in, she turned on the light. When we went out, she turned it off again. In the next room sat another old lady who did the same. At a small border crossing at the iron gate into Romania, we drove over a dam. The Romanians followed us with machine guns all the way over the dam. Then they dismantled the whole car, but found nothing. Then we could drive on. I asked if they would put panels and other parts back in the car. The customs officers just laughed. If we weren't satisfied, we could just drive home again. Customs and border guards were kings here. They could keep us waiting for hours if they didn't like the way we looked.
Another thing I remember was when we came from Austria across a German border crossing. We were stopped by a German border guard. Two Danes in a German car, what was that all about? This was right around the time that the Baader Meinhof group had carried out an attack in Germany and German police were on their toes. Bitte aussteigen, the police said. I was tired and wanted to go back to the base to sleep and started complaining. A policeman stuck a machine gun in my side and said once again: BITTE AUSSTEIGEN. Then I got out of the car.... One trip lasted from 10-14 days. I was a courier on 7-8 occasions. I have always loved traveling and I felt that this was a calling from God. But I was a small fish in the big picture. At the base, there were people who had traveled many, many trips. They often had to get new passports as all border crossings were stamped in our passports. Therefore, they had to choose
different border crossings so that the border guards wouldn't suspect anything. At the border, our passport numbers and names were written down in a big book. This was before the advent of the PC.
At the base, people worked long hours and often in the evenings. Weekends were spent touring Bavaria or attending church services in Munich. We had no contact with the neighbors, as we didn't want anyone to know what we were doing. We received 100 D-Mark in pocket money every month + room and board. After a year, the amount was increased.
What have I learned from meeting the persecuted Christians?
I learned a lot from the humility of persecuted Christians. There was no bitterness or anger in the Romanian priest, even though he had been in prison for 10 years. He was grateful for the role God had given him. He is one of the warmest people I met in Eastern Europe. He cried when we delivered the Bibles.
Lars concludes his story by saying that he estimates he smuggled 500 Bibles into the Eastern Bloc from the secret base in West Germany.
Lars Pedersen currently lives in Norway, where he works with developmentally disabled people.
