Christmas in Iceland - 15.12.1940, Síða 32

smashing piece of skating. Gaf plays em on
with “Nj&lssaga Stomp”, his own composition,
and they skate on down stage to link up with
six bearded gents who represent the Althing.
Culture again, you see. Not that I’m musling
in on the evening school racket”, Gisli hast-
ened to explain. “I’ve always played fair in
business, and another guy.......”
“Quite!” I hastily put in.
“Where was I?” went on Gisli reassured.
“Oh yes. They link arms and after A1 has
swung our version of “Your tiny hand is
frozen” to Fifi he takes hold of her and
throws her over his shoulder on to a neigh-
bouring glacier, floodlit by my Esja Develop-
ment Corporation”.
“That diverts the attention for a moment,
an, the bearded guys snoop off to Gaf’s “The
old man of the Mountains”.
“By this time the audience have quite got
the idea and they breeze up the mountain to
Al’s Ice Bar, where they find a swell ice-cream
supper awaiting them, It’s cheap and it’s
national”, he confided.
“After the interval it’s every man and every
stulka for herself, and the whole gang gets
going on the slope while Gaf plays ’em on to
the plain with, “How d’ you like to love me,
on the level?”
“Well?” said Gisli triumphantly. “What
do you say?”
“It’s fine!” I said lyingly. “The Esja
scheme’s great and will put you right tops. It
is public spirited men like you who have made
each nation what it is to-day”.
“Thanks”, said Gisli. And the Black Death
made another round.
The British come to Iceland
Continued of Page 23.
be the next step. It was to be carried out
within a matter of days.
What would be the fate of Iceland if England
fell? In the whirlwind of various ideas that
kept creeping into my somewhat confused
mind, this question was the foremost. Yes.
Icelanders, like other small nations under the
“Maddog” heel, would become German sub-
jects. Young Icelanders would be conscripted
to armies fighting on the borders of what
would be a growing “World Reich” of the
“Maddogs”.
With thank God the main body of the B.
E. F. back in Britain there was a fortnight
of expected invasion of the British Isles. “Let
them come”, challenged the British. Did the
“Maddogs” come? — not likely. All they did
was to fly high and drop blindly their bombs
of destruction.
Then came the end of August when Britain
had by leaps and bounds grown stronger,
much to the relief of all small and still unoc-
cupied nations. And high time too for, with
the fall of Britain down would go the free-
dom of all small nation.
It is therefore that I say that the sailors,
soldiers, and Air Force men, who throng our
streets to-day, and their fellow men abroad,
wherever they may be, stand with their living-
bodies between us Icelanders and the bar-
baric German rule which many considered
worse than death.
Point of Interest.
Do you know that next to Great Britain,
Iceland is the largest island in Europe. Its
surface is about a fifth part greater than Ire-
land.
Contretemps:
Sergeant Bawle — What in the bankety-
blank do you two adjectived so — and — so’s
mean by leaving the ranks and running after
those two Stulkas?”
Private Pullthrough — But you shouted,
Pick ’em up! Sarge!”
Oh yeah?
Corporal Bolt hasn’t been home in ten
years, we hear. His wife is beginning to sus-
pect that he’s growing tired of her.
“Slugged”.
“And you have twenty-seven bullets in you,
my poor man. Do they burt?”
“No, lady. It’s the weight that makes me
tired”.
30
CHRISTMAS IN ICELAND