Ett Svenskt Lejon In the early evening of January 1st, 1936, a
gentle snowfall slipped silently through the frigid Stockholm
air and slowly began to inundate the recently cleared streets of
Galma Stan. Despite the weather, numerous pedestrians moved
about under the hot streetlights, which lined the city’s icy
thoroughfares, many of them singing festive songs and raising
glasses of champagne and glögg to toast the New Year. Meanwhile,
from the opened windows of many houses, voices and shouts
happily sounded out as if part of a vast disjointed chorus. But
one could not help but notice that something was different. The
enthusiasm over the previous night’s firework displays and other
seasonal traditions was of the usual vigor but more bad news
from the war in Abyssinia had decidedly tempered the mood the
following morning; Italian aircraft had attacked a Swedish Red
Cross unit in that country on December 30th. Moreover, the
Anglo-German Naval treaty from the previous summer still
lingered in peoples’ memories. Th