I can't say if it's mainly a keen eye for selecting stories that have powerful emotional potential, an ability to distill timeless wisdom from the basic facts of history, or his own transcendent talent for dynamically and sensitively recounting historical events so they feel relevant to young readers, but Phillip Hoose is one of the best nonfiction writers whose work I've encountered. When widespread recognition came his way in 2010 after being awarded a Newbery Honor for Claudette Colvin: Twice Toward Justice, I was eager to read this author I'd never heard of, and quickly discovered the hype was legitimate. Claudette Colvin was informative, highly suspenseful, and deeply emotional, an exemplary representative of youth nonfiction. We identify with Miss Colvin's plight and feel outraged at the systemic injustice facing her, as immersed in the experience as any good work of fiction. Phillip Hoose was at it again with Moonbird: A Year on the Wind with the Great Survivor B95 in 2012, skillfully investing us in the saga of internationally beloved rufa specimen B95, who had already lived several times longer than most rufa birds and was likely still alive and well in the world. The facts are plentiful and accurate, but Mr. Hoose goes beyond textbook talk to the heart of the story: the struggle of an endangered species to continue existing on an earth that isn't always friendly to strange birds, the miracle of biodiversity and the silent tragedy when a creature goes extinct with no possibility of ever gracing our world again. It's a lovely book that demonstrates Phillip Hoose's mastery of juvenile nonfiction. Three years later, we had The Boys Who Challenged Hitler: Knud Pedersen and the Churchill Club. Phillip Hoose turns our attention to the fight for freedom in 1940s Europe, as Hitler's dark army swept through Scandinavia and established strongholds in nations too small or pacifist to defend themselves. Norway took up arms against the conquering tide and Sweden managed to bargain a neutrality that Germany grudgingly accepted, but Denmark capitulated to the occupation, offering no resistance to Hitler's coup. What happens when a proud land is overrun by an aggressive foreign entity, and the government goes along to get along? How much abridgment of freedom will we agree to before it's too much? We learn in The Boys Who Challenged Hitler that if the adult generation won't stand up to a bully, the kids will...even if it costs their own freedom.
Knud Pedersen was in eighth grade when Hitler's soldiers entered Denmark and declared it a "protectorate" of Germany. Cooperate with their overlords, and the Danes were promised prominence in Hitler's new world order. Resist, and Denmark would be wiped off the map one stubborn citizen at a time. Knud Pedersen watched in disbelief as Denmark's leaders cheerfully handed power over to Hitler, allowing thousands of German troops to settle in and seize control. In nearby Norway, which was also under siege, the populace refused to be mollified, greeting the German invaders with stout resistance every step of the way. The Danes, on the other hand, seemed content—if slightly miffed—by Hitler's hostile takeover. If his elders weren't going to react from a place of national pride like the Norwegians, maybe Knud would have to do something himself. After Knud discussed the matter with his older brother Jens and a group of peers in their hometown of Odense, the young teens founded the Royal Air Force (RAF) Club, named for the courageous British pilots who thwarted Hitler's invasion of Great Britain. Knud's club was devoted to sabotaging the property of German soldiers in and around Odense. The mischief started out small, switching the direction of wooden signs meant to point incoming Nazi soldiers to their barracks, but escalated as Knud's resentment and temerity grew. The RAF Club was an intrepid gang of kids, from tall, lanky Knud Pedersen to the much shorter Knud Hedelund, affectionately called "Little Knud". Biking all over Odense to vandalize Nazi property, usually in the middle of the day when valuable equipment was left unguarded, the RAF Club would strike and then skedaddle before they could be caught. They soon captured the ire of German commanders, who issued rich rewards for their apprehension. Before detectives could close in on the rebel teens, Knud Pedersen's minister father was reassigned to lead a new church in Aalborg, Denmark, headquartered in a huge, drafty building that formerly served as a monastery. Knud's family would have to move. The RAF Club's work in Odense would proceed without the Pedersen brothers, but the two of them weren't finished flaunting Hitler.
Aalborg was much larger than Odense and held strategic importance for the Nazis. The Aalborg airport provided a shipping route for weapons materials, a boon for Germany's war effort worldwide. As a result, Aalborg was crawling with Nazi military who wouldn't regard sabotage casually, but Knud and Jens weren't about to follow the example of their servile Danish leaders and give up at the first sign of trouble. Many teens in Aalborg were as livid as the RAF Club members in Odense, and when Knud revealed to them the sabotage he had helped facilitate, his new friends wanted in. They dubbed themselves the Churchill Club in honor of British prime minister Winston Churchill, whose vigorous pushback in defiance of the Führer's daily bombing blitz inspired freedom fighters around the globe. Knud, Jens, and the rest of the Churchill Clubbers—including Mogens "the Professor" Fjellerup, who in ninth grade was already an innovative chemist with a lot to offer the club's weapons department, and Børge Ollendorff, a year younger than the others but a fearless heart who reminded Knud of his old friend in the RAF Club, Little Knud—began methodically striking Nazi properties in Aalborg, defying German or Danish constabulary to catch them. Minor vandalism progressed to stealing weaponry and torching classified papers, and again the attention of those in command swung toward Knud's boys. This time the sabotage took place in Aalborg, however, and the Nazis were prepared to invest serious resources in bringing down the perpetrators. As the Churchill Club shifted focus toward accumulating German weapons to distribute to the Allies if they broke through to liberate Denmark, investigators picked up on telltale patterns of the Churchill Club subversives. With the police drawing near, some Churchill Clubbers grew nervous, unsure about continuing their activities. Eigil Astrup-Frederiksen was foremost among the dissenters. His mother was Jewish, and if Eigil were implicated in the sabotage, his family might be deported to a concentration camp. The consequences for their civil disobedience were becoming dire, yet Knud and most of his friends remained unwilling to suspend the Churchill Club's itinerary. Denmark was no closer to regaining independence than ever. In Knud's opinion they were still cowards compared to Norway, and he was ready to sacrifice his personal freedom to fight for his country.
The Churchill Club wasn't reckless, but even soberly considered plans aren't foolproof, and Knud's operation was foiled for good when a waitress recognized him from his forays into her restaurant to riffle through the coats of German soldiers and swipe their sidearms. With Knud in custody, the rest of the Churchill Club was soon ferreted out, and their cache of stolen weapons confiscated. The club's reign was at an end, and horrific times were shortly to be the members' recompense. Try as the Danish government might to frame the teens' actions as youthful ignorance, the presence of German overseers in the courtroom meant the judge couldn't be lenient. The boys were all sentenced to federal prison, except Børge Ollendorff, who was too young. Børge was remanded to a youth correctional facility to serve his relatively light sentence, while Knud and Jens were hit hardest: three years each. The only ones punished more severely were three older peripheral Churchill Club associates, who each received a minimum of four and a half years behind bars. Knud and his friends were able to get away with some things at the Aalborg jail, including sawing out a bar over the window to their cell so they could slip in and out at night, but once they were transferred to Nyborg State Prison, any fantasy that their sentences would be anything but interminable suffering was squashed.
They had done what they knew was right, but the Churchill Clubbers had reason to doubt there was any good left for them in life. Yet were they truly less free than the citizens of Aalborg and Odense, oppressed by Naziism in their own country, ruled by a man who was having millions of innocents exterminated for perceived shortcomings of ethnicity, religion, and lifestyle? The Danes lived under a delusion of freedom that Knud and his friends never believed, so further restriction of their personal liberty didn't convince them they had erred. At least they'd fought for their homeland, rather than relinquishing control to Hitler as if they didn't care. But prison was far worse than they imagined. Sequestered by themselves in Nyborg's youth wing but rarely allowed to see one another, the convicted Clubbers were systematically stripped of humanity by the guards. Agonizing boredom and psychological torment vied for preeminence in their heads, and the prisoners coped in a variety of ways. Eigil teetered on the verge of despair, a state exacerbated by not being allowed to share the burden with his fellow convicted patriots. "I missed my mates...The loneliness was very great. In my thoughts I convinced myself that I had done the right thing by taking part in the fight against the Germans. But in the many lonely hours came the doubt anyway, often very insidious. There was no one to talk to besides myself. The light in the cell was turned off at 9 p.m. Many times I lay in my bed and struggled with the temptation to give up, to take a razor blade and slit my wrists to stop the beating of my heart. It would not be discovered until 4 a.m., I told myself." The grief and hopelessness of those words reverberates down through the years, a glimpse of the bleak void that yawned before the Churchill Club teens in every direction. That a kid would be subjected to such torture for defending his nation's honor is deeply disturbing, but the Clubbers endured it mostly without visible support from their fellow Danes, who had done nothing to show Hitler they would not be trampled. Unlike Eigil and some of the others, Knud's anger raged hotter than ever against the Nazis. He disobeyed his jailors every chance he had, hardly caring about his precious few privileges they gleefully revoked in an attempt to keep him in check. He hated the Germans and would not cooperate with them to the end.
Release came for every Churchill Club teen eventually, but they struggled to fit back into a society still under Nazi dominion. Denmark remained under the Führer's lead thumb, and Knud was no more tolerant of this than before his incarceration. While the Churchill Club stayed disbanded, Knud searched for ways to join the resistance, but found that rebels were hesitant to collaborate with a high-profile anti-Nazi personality. Knud did ultimately find his niche, helping stash and transfer weapons from one secret location to another, and though there were close calls that jeopardized his freedom, he was never arrested. On May 4, 1945, Knud Pedersen's readiness to sacrifice himself and everything he had for his homeland was validated by the news that Germany had surrendered to the Allies. The Nazi juggernaut that seemed invincible a couple years earlier had been demolished, and liberated Danes flooded the streets in emotional celebration. Just reading about it in this book brings tears to one's eyes, the fulfillment of years of hoping for a better fate for their homeland than being absorbed forever by Hitler's war machine, the permanent loss of a national history rich in artistic genius and world-class storytelling. It took a long time, but Danish patriotism had come alive even before Germany surrendered, and the bold actions of the Churchill Club were a big part of what inspired them. If a gaggle of teens could stand up to Hitler, why couldn't all of Denmark? It was no coincidence that acts of sabotage had been on the rise many times over while Knud and the boys languished at Nyborg State Prison. When the opportunity to meet Winston Churchill was offered Knud and his cohorts after the war, Knud's identity as an insurrectionist—which had once led law-abiding Danes to look at him askance—became his greatest source of pride: he was Knud Pedersen, Member of the Churchill Club, and that could never change. A boy who loved his country and refused to watch it die grew into a hero for all time.
It's hard to pinpoint what I love most about Phillip Hoose's nonfiction. It feels like fiction in some ways, with a compelling variety of likable and despicable characters who come to life on the page as if Mr. Hoose were a brilliant novelist with a flair for creating memorable characters. But they're all real people, and the effective characterization derives from the author's talent for framing the narrative using his own superb writing and vibrant quotes from his subjects, quotes that push the story forward with emotional power and immediacy. I love "Little Knud" Hedelund and Børge Ollendorff, was fascinated by the scientific genius of Mogens Fjellerup, and empathized with the suffocating sadness of Eigil Astrup-Frederiksen in prison. The disappearance of hope is a terrible thing, and every member of the Churchill upstarts had to wade through that mire. They bore scars from the years-long confinement, and at least one later committed suicide to escape his demons. But Knud Pedersen is the hero focused on in The Boys Who Challenged Hitler, as he was Phillip Hoose's primary interview source, and the image we get of him is indelible. At the time he first met with the author in 2012, he ran Denmark's Kunstbiblioteket, the first lending library for paintings ever created. Art was Knud's lifelong passion, and his reason for founding the library says a lot about him: "(A)rt is like bread, an essential ingredient for nourishing the soul." Whether it's painting, literature, or any number of other outlets, art is how we make sense of our lives, how we express who we are so others can appreciate it. Even in prison Knud created art, and years later became a noteworthy artist of his era. Knud was an extraordinary person who hung on into his late eighties so he could finish relating his story to Phillip Hoose, an author capable of doing justice to Knud's life and introducing the world to this hero who would not bow meekly to foot-soldiers of ignorance when all around him adults lacked even a quarter of Knud's spirit and courage. It often takes a kid to set foot where adults fear to tread. In 2014, his health in decline with The Boys Who Challenged Hitler finally complete, Knud scoffed at the idea of his own physical infirmity. "The doctors say that I am fragile," he wrote in one of the last of thousands of emails exchanged with Phillip Hoose. "But how fragile can one be who in eighty-nine years has lived in this most cruel century anybody could dream of?" Knud lived at exactly the time when a hero like him was needed. He never shied from his difficult role in history, and because he didn't, the Churchill Club remains a shining example to those who need encouragement when confronted with oppression. May we, like Knud, have the audacity to act on our convictions.
Nonfiction is rarely rewarded by the Newbery committee, but The Boys Who Challenged Hitler is at least as deserving as most Newbery Honor nonfiction, and I would have delighted in seeing it claim a 2016 Newbery. Phillip Hoose delivers again with a book that faithfully depicts a turbulent era in history while not neglecting the heart and soul of the story, what makes it relevant to readers today or in any age. That's the reason The Boys Who Challenged Hitler is great literature, and why I would strongly consider rating it three and a half stars. I'll think often of the lessons I learned from this story, and I'll never forget Knud Pedersen and the Churchill Club.