大象传媒

This is an extract from a story written by by godmother, who still lives in Bergen-op-Zoom.

"On the 10th of May, the Germans invaded Holland. From the air they bombarded the city and harbour of Rotterdam for hours on end. The following day they sounded the warning: 鈥淪urrender, or we will bomb every city in the country flat to the ground like Rotterdam鈥�.

In spite of these threats, fighting continued. Roads were blocked everywhere by barricades of trees. Bridges were blown up by the Dutch to delay the oncoming Germans, but there was no stopping them.

At home, we feared the inevitable. To accept the knowledge that shortly we would be occupied by the Germans was a bitter pill to swallow. There was no way out and no place to escape to for safety. Together we listened to the news from 鈥楬ilversum鈥� radio station, in order to follow the routes the Germans were taking. We felt their approach like a pending death sentence. We had already lost our freedom 鈥� would we stay alive? That was the question to which we had no answer as yet.

The first thing I used to do when getting up in the morning was to open the French windows in my room in the attic, to look at the weather. A light blue sky promises a beautiful day. 鈥楤eware鈥�, I realise all of a sudden, 鈥榯he Germans are on their way鈥�, incredible as it was to conceive.

On entering the sitting room, the family was already gathered around the radio. Our usual morning routines are forgotten and no longer applied in the changing circumstances. Strange noises come from outside 鈥� Dutch soldiers look for shelter to rest after their flight from the Germans. Some had been on the run for twenty four hours. Civilians take them into their home for refreshments and a few moments of respite. Later they continue their journey south into Belgium. Some of them discard their uniforms and try to return home in oddments of civilian clothes that are given to them. The stream of incoming soldiers continues and by noon, they are looking totally exhausted, burnt red, their uniform jackets flagging, yet helmets still on their heads for safety, camouflaged with sprays of lilac. An unbelievable sight. By now the Red Cross is prepared and has organised shelter and food. Hours later they are off again to pursue the road to freedom. Most of them were aiming for the coast of Belgium or France, to cross the channel to England. And so the hours move on until the sound of the local alarm signalled the coming of the Germans. At this moment radio Hilversum no longer functioned, yet the approach of the enemy still came as a shock.

Within minutes, we settled into our cellar which had been prepared for this eventuality. Neighbours and family from outside also join us, as the cellar, still part of the foundations of the old bastion, had an impenetrable ceiling and arched walls of one metre thickness. It ran all along the extensive corner house and could accommodate forty people with ease. A tangible silence prevailed for hours, or so it seemed, yet it was actually only minutes. So much went through one鈥檚 mind and feelings, trying to take stock of one鈥檚 life and one鈥檚 future. Then comes the shock with the sounding of German commanding voices, the sound of heavy boots, 鈥�. then running 鈥�. then not 鈥�.. we hear warning shots and peep through the ventilators, or rather grilles that give access to the street above, to see what is happening.

They seem to have gathered at the crossroads, then, as if arranged, they line up in rows and start to march towards the town centre. They are coming from all directions and follow one another. The deafening sound of those marching boots, together with the voluminal sound of their voices, singing marching songs in unison, had a chilling effect I will never forget.

We are cringed together in awe of the powerful, hitherto unknown enemy and feel even more helpless at the sight of them. We have been overpowered, losing our freedom and our way of life. For months already we have been informed via the media about their mentality, their criminal deeds, the killings and the imprisonment of Jews, homosexuals and objectors to military service.

We are frightened, no, we are terrified!

I hear a well known song: 鈥楢uf der Heide bl眉ht ein kleines Bl眉melein, und das hei脽t Erika鈥� (amongst the heather there grows a little flower called Erica). Incredible that they can sing such a peaceful spring song under such conditions!
After what seems like ages, the bulk of the Germans must have arrived at the town centre, and a moment of silence sets in. Then we see scattered Germans returning, rifles in hand, ready to fire in the event of some hidden defendant trying to do battle. No such thing. Civilians begin to emerge from their hiding places, merely curious to see what will happen next.

I venture outside to stand at the gate that gives access to the stable yard, lately used for parking motor cars. Groups of Germans march on in the direction of Belgium (Antwerp) to conquer that country, I suppose. Others go along the houses in pairs, looking for God knows what. At the gate where I am standing, two Germans brush right past me and enter the yard, where they have spotted two cars and a motorcycle which they are about to remove. They attempted to start the one car, when I walk up to them and ask the German already behind the wheel:
鈥淲as wollen Sie, bitte?鈥� (What do you want, please?)
鈥淲as wir wollen?鈥� he answered, 鈥淲ir nehmen die zwei Wagen und das Rad鈥� (we are taking the two cars and the motorcycle). His face displays an expression of audacity and daring.
My instinct tells me they know that they are wrong, so I say convincingly 鈥淭he cars belong to doctors who work with the Red Cross and they have a special licence鈥�.
They then leave the cars alone and take the motorbike. I fight for the bike as well, as it is parked in our custody by a commercial traveller, who makes a living on it. But they take the bike, ignoring my argument. I ask them:
鈥淏itte, gib mir einen Zettel daf眉r, wir sind verantwortlich f眉r das Rad.鈥� (Please give me a receipt as we are responsible for the motorbike).
The leader of the two pulls a notebook out of his pocket and scribbles a number and his name on it. Handing it to me, he says:
鈥淓s ist Krieg, M盲dchen, wir nehmen alles was wir brauchen.鈥� (This is war, girl, we take everything we need). And with that everything is excused.
Only after they have gone, I realise what has happened 鈥� I have approached two armed Germans, was not afraid, and have won a battle. Unfortunately, the docket for the motorbike was useless, so the owner told us later.

Self assured, I feel less powerless against the German invaders and draw courage from the incident for the coming days, weeks or years!"

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