´óÏó´«Ã½

By now it was the beginning of June 1944.
Although I could not put my finger on it, I noticed that something was afoot. Even the people seemed different.

Recently, the activities of the Germans had increased and huge convoys were often on the move. There were also far more Spitfires about than ever before.

One day, a number of trucks with armed soldiers passed us on our walk, being pursued by two Spitfires. They flew so low that we could see the pilot’s face. The Germans abandoned their vehicles in a frantic hurry and jumped into the ditch, close to the bank. They stood all in a line, up to their necks in water, with just their helmets visible.

If it had not been for the shooting, which frightened us, we would have laughed!
We loved to see the Germans being scared off by the ‘English Tommies’.

Nobody really knew much about the occupants of the castle, except that they were Germans. Who lived there and why? Was there more to it than that? It came as no surprise that the castle had been made a target.

When the siren went, we all fled into the basement. The home shook and the flashes were blinding. Some of our windows upstairs were shattered and left the floors covered in glass. After the ‘all clear’ we had to wait until everything had been cleaned up before we could go back to bed, still shivering with a mixture of fear and being cold.

The castle had received little damage and was quickly restored. Unfortunately, it was not possible for us to obtain glass for our windows!

The school had already been reduced to only two days a week for quite some time and since the bombardment also caused damage to the school-building and the summer holidays were not far off, the decision was taken to close. Anyway, I don’t think the few weeks I attended the lessons added much to my education. We were being taught by the old missionaries in small classes of about five or six pupils, hence no chance to step out of line.

Maybe that is the reason why the only thing I remember is a prank. The teacher had mentioned her fear of frogs, therefore, one of the girls released one in the class-room to try her out. The teacher screamed and jumped onto a chair. The girl realized her stupidity and although she was sorry, she got expelled. Soon afterwards we were all at home, because our school was being closed for good!

Back home again from our frequent walks to the woods, I was told to report to the office to see Stan. This sounded so formal, that everybody wondered what it could be about. Usually messages were given in passing. To be called to the office was only for serious matters.
With a heavy heart I knocked on the door. Stan was sitting behind her desk and told me to take a seat. She informed me that my father was coming to visit me, together with my mother and Hans! I could not believe my ears.

Stan had a lot more to add, but I did not listen to the rest. All I heard was that Hans was coming to stay here, with me. Then she mentioned something about responsibility and though he was my little brother, I should not pamper him, etc. I could not care less about that. I was too delighted!

Hans had great difficulty in accepting his and my parents’ new surname of Swaagman. Therefore, it was considered the best option for all concerned that Hans should join me in this relatively safe environment.

My mother and Hans had never been apart for longer than a day. Now she had to leave him behind and nobody could predict for how long.

On their homeward journey my father had planned a big surprise for my mother.
Ever since Wim had left, in 1942, she assumed that he was still in Germany.
I can’t begin to imagine, how my mother must have felt when she finally met up with Wim again, that he was alive, that she could touch him!

Wim, also very happy, smiled at my father while hugging my mother.
At last, she was let into the secret of his whereabouts. It did not lessen her anxiety, but this was better than Germany.

Hans was not quite five years old. He looked so helpless after our parents had left. The first few days I was allowed to be protective towards him, but all too soon I was given silly tasks to do, in order to make Hans less dependent on me and force him to find his own way.

Regular testing for ‘immediate obediency’ was one of the priorities. At the most inconvenient times an order would be given and you’d better not hesitate! It was supposed to be for our own safety - it was war after all. Poor Hans. He was in trouble! He would always do as he was told, but, alas, not quickly enough to their liking. Whenever I tried to defend him, I got a severe telling-off. That made me very unhappy. All in all Hans and I were able to visit Wim twice during our stay in Zeist and since we had so much fun with him, it never entered our heads to talk about the home.

September 1944. We were not informed about what was happening in the outside world, we could but observe. We noticed the night-flying of heavy bombers high overhead. We heard that the trains had stopped running altogether and that evacuees were being put up regularly for the night in the attic, but not where they came from or were heading for.

We were getting worried about the reduction of our food-rations.
The next few weeks would be the ideal time for harvesting the produce a forest can provide. To supplement our rations we made daily treks, carrying an array of containers, as well as pulling a cart to transport the wood. The youngest ones loved having a ride in it on the way there, otherwise the journey would surely have been too tiring for them.

It proved to be a good year for mushrooms and we collected baskets full of different kinds, thanks to Mia.
Berries were plentiful and were squeezed and then sieved. If sugar had been available the juice would have tasted nicer. We spread the pulp on our dry slice of grey bread, which made a change from the usual tomato-ketchup.

One day, when the weather was unsuitable for the woods, we had to make do with playing on the square. We had discovered an orchard covered with fallen
apples and we stuffed, as many as we could, under our clothes and hid them when we got home. Would you believe it! The owner came to complain about his loss and the police was called in. If it were ever to happen again, we would go to prison!

For punishment I lost my privileged job of making Stan’s bed and got transferred to cleaning the dining-room on my own for at least a month.

Placed on top of a small stool, in a recess of one of the walls, was the dog’s feeding-bowl. Later on, when I really started to feel very hungry, I could not resist the temptation. His food was much better than ours. I licked some of it like a dog, so it could not be detected. Where did the potatoes and the beans come from? Or could it have been the left-overs from a staff’s dinner, after we had gone to bed? Nobody seemed to pay much attention to the dog’s food and I had learned to keep my mouth shut. When we had gone up into the attic again for warmer clothes, it was noticed that a lot of the stored food had disappeared and somebody commented on it. The ‘hungry’ evacuees were blamed…..
The branches were arched by the weight of the heavy crop of elderberries and feeling hungry, we promptly took the opportunity to eat them there and then.

We never found out, if it had been the berries, or indeed an outbreak of the widespread dysentery why we were so ill and many of us, including Hans, had ended up in the sick-room. The doctor prescribed Norit, a dry, black powder, three times a day a tablespoon, washed down with water. It made us choke!

How on earth could they have been so cruel to Hans, who had accidently soiled his bed, to make him wash his sheets in the sink with that icy-cold water!

I tried to help him, which was refused and I was sent back to bed.
They told me that he had to be taught a lesson! The winter had arrived and with no central heating in those days, you often felt inside as cold as being outside, especially upstairs with make-do windows.
We all felt sorry for the latest arrival, a small baby that cried all day long.
This presented a big problem. She needed milk and there wasn’t any!

We had all gathered in the living-room to see who could come up with an
idea how to obtain milk. We loved being involved. The solution was quite simple really and by asking us, they could bank on our full cooperation. It was pointed out that it was not just a project for a week or so, but maybe for months of going daily to the nearby farms.

We all agreed and for everybody older than 11, a rota was drawn up for groups of two. That worked out at about once a week.
This meant getting up at 5 a.m to arrive at the farms at milking-time. Though some of the farmers refused, usually we could find one who pitied us and donated about half a litre. Not much, but as long as we collected enough for the baby! We always tried several farms for more milk for ourselves as well, often without much luck.

Whilst on one of my rounds, it was snowing hard with that horrible pack-snow, which quickly stuck to our clogs. When we hobbled past the castle, the guard on duty offered to remove the snow with his bajonet and even gave us a biscuit! If only we had not mentioned it to anybody when we got home, we would not have had that spanking!
How we all loathed to have to play outside every day, even in cold weather.
If only there had been some snow, we could have built snow-men, otherwise there was little else for us to do. Hans, in particular, suffered in his thin summer-coat. He also complained about his feet hurting and, for that reason, he could only wear wellingtons and thin socks. We sympathised with him. Most of us suffered with painful chillblains, which were treated by putting our toes into a chamber-pot with (our own) freshly-produced urine!
One day, when Hans could not possibly face being outside again, he decided to hide. He thought he’d be better off in the loo instead. He almost got away with it, if it had not been for one of the boys who told on him.
Hans had to pay dearly for this! It must have been agony for him to be sent out immediately, on his own, and walk around the square for an hour. He looked so lost! How I hated the kids that were laughing at him from behind the window. It was dark when he came back in and yet again I was prevented to console him.
It was towards the end of 1944 when my mother paid us a surprise visit, still wearing her terracotta dress! She had cycled all the way from Amsterdam on her bike without the tyres, one way of preventing the Germans to confiscate it.
The first thing Hans did was to show my mother his feet. She was horrified. The staff tried to assure her that ‘all will be better by the time spring is here’.
My mother was being put up for the night in the attic, but her mind was already made up, whatever the consequences. The staff was furious when, the next morning, she told them that she was taking Hans away with her. They informed her that, in that case,I must leave too. My life was made far from easy during the weeks I had to wait for Willy to collect me. Meantime, a solution had to be found at short notice for Hans and myself.
On their way back to Amsterdam, my mother stopped in the Bilt to call on Wim who, after seeing Hans’feet, asked Mrs.Arks to arrange an appointment with the doctor. He diagnosed frost-bite and advised that, on no account, was Hans to walk on them and to seek medical advice as soon as they got home.

I was counting the days for Willy to arrive to take me to wherever. Anywhere would be better than here! I was desperately unhappy since Hans had left.
Half-way, between Zeist and Amsterdam, was Vreeland. The initial address my father had stayed at was always available to be used as an occasional hide-out for either Willy or my parents. Now it was my turn to be there.
Mr. and Mrs. Mulder made me feel at home straight away. I was pleased with the warm house and to see their large, well-stocked kitchen-garden. However, I was under-nourished to such an extent, that I was only allowed to eat a little and often, a table-spoonful to start with. Gradually the portions were increased to normal amounts. The house was next door to a farm and I soon got to know the farmer’s wife, who was well-built and cheerful. I enjoyed feeding the animals for her. She was determined to play her part in my recovery and suggested that I should come every morning to be fattened up with proper cream, as long as I didn’t tell the Mulders! Anyway, it had no ill-effects and I have loved cream ever since….
A few weeks later I was well enough to join the family in Amsterdam.
Except for Wim, we all lived near to each other again.

It was not until after the war when we heard about the raid on the cottage in de Bilt, where Wim lived. It it had been surrounded by the SS., but Wim was lucky to have been able to escape through the toilet window into a corn-field behind the house. Among the arrested were his friends, the boys Arks.

So far, Holland had endured the occupation for well over four years.

After the Battle of Britain, the Germans had focussed their attention on eastern Europe, having given up on England for the time being. When and where were they going to stop? That was the question.

The Germans controlled the news-papers and their successes made big head-lines and were also blurted out on the radio. To them it was a morale-booster, to the Dutch it was worrying.

The Resistance had issued and circulated two illegal news-papers, Trouw and Parool, in order to report a more honest and realistic version of events.
Printing and even delivering the papers was a dangerous undertaking.
Also the ´óÏó´«Ã½ news was indispensable and was received secretly by a hidden and often cleverly-concealed radio. Both, the papers and the ´óÏó´«Ã½, were vital contributions to reassure the nation and give them hope.
The German news never reported their defeats and certainly said nothing about the successes of the Allies who, we hoped, were on their way to help us.

After North-Africa and southern Europe, came Normandy on June 6th.’44.
Although still a long way away, the liberation of western Europe had begun.
First Paris, followed by Brussels and finally, by September 3rd, the southern part of Holland was free. The Germans seemed defeated and fled north.
There was such a quick succession of events that the news was scanty and even the ´óÏó´«Ã½ got confused. In Rotterdam it was mentioned that Breda had been liberated and the people in the Hague were waiting for the arrival of the British troops. The whole of the population was deleriously happy. Even the Dutch flag appeared in places, which was strictly forbidden.
The Germans and NSB members loaded their (stolen) cars and bikes and fled towards Germany. Alas, the rumours turned out to be false!
Therefore, September 5th became known as Dolle Dinsdag! ( Mad Tuesday) There were obstacles. Crossing the bridges over the river Rhine proved impossible. The advance had to be halted, giving the Germans the opportunity to tighten their grip on the north of Holland. At last I understood the reason why the evacuees had come to Zeist! The trains stopped running on September 15th. The Dutch Government in London had advised the railway-personnel to strike and to go into hiding, but not before putting the trains out of action first.

In retaliation, the Germans stopped all alternative food-transport. Consequently the west of Holland, north of the big rivers, was facing the last winter of the war under the worst circumstances imaginable!

We braced ourselves for this period in Amsterdam.

This story was submitted to the People’s War site by Anastasia Travers a volunteer with WM CSV Actiondesk on behalf of Theodora Coleman and has been added to the site with his permission. Theodora Coleman fully understands the sites terms and conditions.

© Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.