- Contributed by听
- WMCSVActionDesk
- People in story:听
- Theodora Coleman nee Tielrooy
- Location of story:听
- The Hague, Holland
- Background to story:听
- Civilian
- Article ID:听
- A6081545
- Contributed on:听
- 10 October 2005
At school we held regular drills when the air-raid siren sounded and we had to dive underneath our desks. To start with it was chaos and we found it hilarious. The headmaster had to come in and bash his cane on the desk in order to make himself heard. Soon he convinced us of the seriousness of the exercise and after that we were as meek as lambs.
The summer holiday started well. I was so happy that I could go up to the next class in September, but two of my classmates had to stay behind and do that year again, which was a pity.
Wim had finished his schooling and, at nearly 18, could be called up for military service at any time. This was a great worry, of course. Willy was facing her final year, come September. She did nothing but revise even during the holidays and I had to keep well out of her way.
The Germans were very anti-British. Only their version of events was the right one, therefore they objected to people listening to the 大象传媒 and ordered that all radios should be handed in. Nobody did, or at least not immediately. A bit more time for me to listen to the children鈥檚 choir of Jacob Hamel!
Wim and Willy had taught me an English love song 鈥淚 love you, yes I do鈥,and also 鈥淕od save the King鈥, but they strongly urged me not to sing these outside. A great shame, because I wanted to brag.
I was warned about our neighbours, who belonged to the NSB. Their balcony was next to ours. At least, they were easily recognisable in their uniforms when they stood there showing off. You can imagine my mother鈥檚 horror when she caught me singing a skit about the NSB on the balcony, as loudly as I could. 鈥淥n the corner of the street stands an organ grinder. Not a man, nor a woman, but a traitor!鈥 She pulled me back by my hair and thus I found out about dangers of many kinds. So strong were the feelings against the NSB that you would not even dream of wearing a black skirt with a red jumper, their colours!
An alarming number of the Dutch became members of the NSB, convinced they would benefit from being on the winning side. However, once they belonged it was impossible for them to leave. They proudly wore their badges on the lapels and their children were given lots of fun at the Party clubs. To prove to be a worthy member they were expected to pass on messages and information to the authorities, which created mistrust from the outset. I received, yet again, a warning from my parents to avoid them as much as possible. I did not mind, because only very few members with children lived near us.
Little by little restrictions were imposed. To organise the housekeeping was a nightmare for everyone with the shortages, queuing and coupons. Sugar had already been rationed in 1939, which was hard on us as my father drank sugar with tea, instead of the other way around!
By 1942 everything was on coupons, even vegetables. Food-hoarding was forbidden, but many an evening we were all involved in bottling whatever we could get hold of. The washing up was usually left to me and all was done in good spirits, singing away together. We were so pleased when the preserved vegetables, meat and my favourite, apple-sauce, could be hidden away.
During the Autumn my father started to bring home apples he managed, again, to obtain via connections with his firm. Eventually there were so many that a cupboard was emptied and planks fixed at the front. It filled up quite nicely and the odd one I pinched was not missed. They were delicious!
No eggs. Pigs and chickens had already been slaughtered before the war to keep the grain for bread-making. Fortunately we only ate meat on Sundays as a rule. The choice was very limited. It was either horse-meat, often served with red cabbage, or veal and were both very scarce. Calves were killed to prevent them drinking the precious cow鈥檚 milk.
There was still a choice left what to have on your first slice of bread, the subsequent ones were with 鈥榗ontentment鈥, that meant with nothing. We did not complain much and ate what was given. That is, except my white pet rabbit.
It was destined for the Christmas dinner! I howled and objected furiously and fled upstairs. Even to this day, I can see its skinned body on the kitchen table when I happened to come down a bit too soon. Nobody could eat it鈥
In the park, across the road, a large area had been turned into allotments for schoolchildren. Wim already had a plot a year or two and now managed to get me one also. It was run by professional gardeners and nothing less than perfect was acceptable. It was a yearly job for all of us to prepare the site.
First we had to tread paths over the whole area and then divide it into beds, which were measured exactly to the cm. into the same sizes. The vegetables had to be grown like a regiment in straight lines.
Rain or shine, we had to attend and it was hard work, but who cared when you brought the proceeds home, for free, and you saw the relief on your mother鈥檚 face. To her it was an answer to a prayer. Our potatoes, in particular, were very good, much better than the poor quality in the shops, if available of course.
The evening meal was discussion time as well as for explanations.The newly issued stamps had to be stuck more to the left on the envelope to leave a space for the imaginary stamp of our Queen鈥檚 head. We never forgot to do this.
There would be no more museum visits, because paintings, if not looted, were hidden. (In the sand-dunes, but re-appeared after the war none the worse for wear). However, the children鈥檚 museum was still open but for limited hours.
Church bells did not ring out anymore. Some were successfully hidden, but a great number had already been seized by the Germans. A deal was struck that, if the bells could not get through the door, they could stay in their position as long as they were not rung. Miraculously one or two doors narrowed overnight!
All along the West coast a heavily armed and mined defence line, two miles wide, was being built. It was out of bounds for civilians. Somewhere we still have a clandestine photograph of the pier of Scheveningen on fire. The story was that the Germans thought that it was a bridge to England. Whatever the reason, the sea-side trips were over for everybody.
The people who lived within this zone had to vacate their house and move further inland. Most families had to double up with strangers and store their furniture or leave it behind.
We received a telegram both from Opa and Aunt Elisabeth asking for help and advice. We did not have a telephone in those days. My father went there immediately and must have been of great help.
Opa found a detached house, about 20 miles further north, in Heilo. Aunt Elisabeth was just as lucky to find a big empty house, a few miles outside Amsterdam along a lonely road amongst scattered farms and several windmills.
At last they could move with the furniture to their new house. As for us, we would miss the long walks in the dunes, the swimming in the sea and the fun on the beach.
Teenagers may sometimes cause problems.
One evening Willy dropped a bomb-shell whilst we were having dinner. 鈥 Do you know that I don鈥檛 need your permission anymore if I decide to marry a German soldier, now I am over 16 years of age? I hear it is a new law.鈥
My father went beserk! Normally the age of consent was 31. I am sure she did it to annoy. She always liked to challenge, especially my father.
One morning a letter was delivered for Wim. Indeed, the call up papers had arrived for the Arbeits Einsatz, a work force for Germany.
My parents were naturally upset, but there was nothing one could do about it.
A few weeks later he arrived home in his uniform. It was a faded green.
I liked his jodphurs with bandages up to his knees, but most of all his peak-cap with yellow and green tassel. I tried it on and saluted the mirror. He was also issued with a spade, which I thought was funny for a 鈥榮oldier鈥. He was on a short leave before he had to return to his unit and go to Germany.
My mother and I took him to the tram. Tearfully we waved as the tram screeched around the corner. 鈥 I鈥檒l be back soon,鈥 he shouted. It would be years before we met again.
This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 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 Colman fully understands the sites terms and conditions.
漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.