It all began on April 9th, 1940. At 4:15 AM, a hulking German cargo ship docked in the Copenhagen harbor and, instead of cargo, delivered German soldiers. Nazi airplanes buzzed threateningly over the city. Awakened by the noise, a young Danish Jew named Martin Metzon went to investigate the commotion but was quickly halted by a Nazi roadblock. Remembering the rumors filtering out of Germany, he ran back home to tell his parents to pack their suitcases.

Luckily for the Metzons, the Germans had other intentions for Denmark. The Nazis planned to repair their damaged reputation and show the world a "model protectorate," meaning the Danes could keep their government and autonomy, if they cooperated.

The Danes reacted to the falsely benevolent occupation with patriotic fervor. Hundreds of thousands of citizens gathered to sing and display their flag, but the Germans cracked down, banning assemblies. The Danes responded by printing an illegal newspaper and Martin was quick to join the movement. Danish resistance fighters sabotaged Nazi-commandeered factories and railroads, evading escape and infuriating the Nazis. Even more frustrating to the Nazis were the results of the recent Danish election; the Danish Nazi party, backed by a flood of funding from Germany, won only 2% of the vote. The election was followed by increased unrest and massive strikes. It was the last straw for the Nazis.

On the 29th of August 1943 the German Nazis imprisoned the Danish armed forces.
Leaders of the resistance were also arrested, sending Martin into hiding. Every day for a month, Martin called a telephone number and an anonymous voice told him where to sleep that night. He would arrive late and leave early; never speaking to his various hosts so they could not testify against him.

Now that the dream of a "free" Denmark was crushed, the Nazis proceeded with their "final solution" for the country's Jews. A German commander informed Georg Ferdinand Duckwitz, a German officer in Denmark, of the pending order to deport Danish Jews. Duckwitz, however, was friends with the resistance and confided in them immediately. The warning spread like wildfire throughout the Jewish community, which went into hiding. When the Nazis made their move on the night of October 1st, 1943, Martin, his family, and thousands of others were safe. Even so, Denmark was outraged by the incident; a letter of condemnation was read in churches, there were protests in the streets, and the Danish police refused Nazi orders to search for Jews.

Meanwhile, the Danish resistance was smuggling thousands of Jews from Copenhagen to the coast, and finally to neutral Sweden. The Bispebjerg Hospital in Copenhagen became a major safe house; Jews were put to bed with Christian names and then transferred by ambulance to waiting boats. The whole Metzon family traveled to a farm north of Copenhagen that had once been their summer home. From there, they connected with a fisherman who ferried them to safety to Sweden the following night.

With the help of countless citizens, more than 7,000 Jews and 700 of their non-Jewish relatives escaped to Sweden. Even so, the Nazis captured 470 Danish Jews and interned them in Theresienstadt, a camp in Czechoslovakia. Most of them were Eastern European immigrants, but the Danish Government still advocated tirelessly for their safety and wellbeing; as a result they were never transferred to killing centers. Most of them survived until liberation in 1945 and were returned to Denmark. The Jewish refugees also traveled home from Sweden, finding their homes and businesses untouched, since Danish authorities had prevented Germans from plundering their property.

Martin and his wife Esther arrived back in Copenhagen to find their belongings and home safe. Among their possessions was a collection of Nazi propaganda trading cards. The tradition of trading cards sold in cigarette cartons dates back to 1895, but the Third Reich cards were unique for their political message. Advertising a new start for the country using the slogan "Germany Awakens," the cards were popular among Germans who had grown up impoverished post World War I. If one managed to collect a full set, they could order an album from the tobacco company to hold the cards.

Ironically, the cards were printed during the Nazi's anti-smoking campaign. Hitler was the driving force behind the program, believing that by smoking, the "master race" was jeopardizing their genetic superiority. By the early 40s, smoking on public transportation and in bomb shelters was widely illegal. Women, especially pregnant women, were the targets of the harshest anti -smoking propaganda. Soon, restrictions on tobacco advertising were created, banning cigarette ads in rural areas, on train lines, and in race tracks. Furthermore, portraying smoking as a masculine virtue (akin the American "Marlboro Man") was forbidden.

However, the Nazi war on tobacco was full of contradictions. Soldiers were still rationed cigarettes, and Nazi Party magazines featured pictures of models smoking. By 1941, tobacco was taxed at near 90% of retail price and accounted for 12% of government revenue.

Perhaps in an effort to both appease Hitler and boost sales despite the public's new wariness of tobacco, cigarette companies revived the tradition of trading cards these tinted photographs of the Berlin Olympics, screen actors, animals eventually became more focused on depicting Nazi propaganda.

The Metzons immigrated to the United States in 1953. Martin passed away in 2003 and his family donated his card collection to the Washington State Holocaust Education Resource Center in 2008.