Prize Dream

Through Oslo's winter evenings Jacob Roeken Oedegaard, a young quisling, dreamed approved dreams and worked on his short story. It won first prize ($35) in a Storm Trooper's contest. Wrote Storm Trooper Oedegaard:

". . . The hour of settlement for the Dollar State had arrived. One by one the Nordics in Europe had settled with their enemies. The Bolshevik rule in the Kremlin had collapsed in the late summer of 1944. ... Then came England's turn. This nation of shopkeepers experienced six weeks of storm--ashore, at sea and in the air. The American Expeditionary Force on the British Isles was swept into the sea by a gigantic steel brush. . . .

"Then new fields flowered in old Europe. Bombed towns were rebuilt. Trade and handicraft revived. . . . Culture and art arose which caused the surrounding world to gape with admiration.

"There was one power which could not tolerate this. It was the Jewish finance of Wall Street. In secure isolation on the other side of the Atlantic sat that malicious laughing-jack in the White House, hatching evil plots with his Semitic associates. At regular intervals Roosevelt sent his armadas of bombers against Europe.

"Helped by the greatest electoral trick in world history, he managed to become President again in 1944 . . . again in 1948. His people had long ago grown tired of him and his war policy. They tried to strike just as they had before. . . . The construction of new bombers was the only work. . . .

"In 1950 the ... Nordics . . . invaded America's east coast. . . . That is how, one fine day, a Norwegian Storm Trooper came to be on the steps of the White House at the head of his patrol. He entered between mighty pillars into a large half-lit vestibule. A portrait of George Washington hung on the wall. A broad marble staircase led to the upper floors. On each landing hung a gigantic star-spangled banner. Then suddenly he stood in front of a glass door. The President's study! But . . . chairs were flung about . . . papers were strewn across the floor. . . . How quiet it was. . . .

"A strange noise in the distance ... increased to a storm. An enormous mass of people ... a tempest of shouts and hoots ... an amazing column of cars in the avenue . . . thousands of people . . . shouting something about a 'swindler' who was caught trying to take off-in his plane. It must be the man he was looking for. It was. On a kind of tumbril ... sat President Roosevelt. A gigantic banner over his head read 'This man drove us to the shambles'. . . . Cameras whirred, the crowds pointed their fingers and sang derisory songs. Ash trays from the offices were emptied on the head of the President. America had awakened."

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