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(Quiet Heroes And Deadly Risks, 2
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We were, however, not just feeding ourselves, but also half our large family, whose members came over on old bikes with wooden wheels, sometimes walking for many hours just to collect at least some basic ingredients to keep them going for a few days, before returning home again the same way they came, sometimes in the midst of the winter.
One of my uncles came all the way from The Hague, apprx. 5O/6O miles on an old bike with a young hungry family waiting for him…. On his way back, carrying a large heavy bag of potatoes and meat, he was stopped by a German soldier who enquired what was in the bag. My uncle showed it but before he knew what happened, the German pulled the bag away and was on his way when my uncle - a perfectly nice man who had never done anything wrong in his life - put a knife into the soldier, and hastily continued his journey home with the food ! In the age we live in, it sounds like a Hollywood or a soap opera story, but I thought I would mention the incident to show what can happen in the real world when perfectly good people are driven to desperation point where only survival matters.

After a few years in Spain later on , I met an Irish girl in an American piano bar, where I worked,. Perhaps ironically we settled in England some 45 years ago, Over the years I often thought of one particular Brit whose jeep stopped in front of our shop in 1945, not unlike the Germans did up to a few weeks earlier, which goes to show there is nothing like running an off-license in times of war..
He was a very amiable little man in contrast to the always scary looking Germans , at least in the eyes of this youngster . He wrote down his name and address and I remember we kept it for years . I often thought it to be nice to contact him although he may no longer be with us. He was a Mc or Mac, and I believe he was from Scotland. Perhaps some psychologist might explain if my marriage to a … Mac was just coincidental!
Small as I was, I can still remember many incidents during the war, but it would take too long to write it all down. But may I finally express my gratitude again to the British people to have come to the rescue of the Netherlands at a time when nobody showed any interest in doing so. After having lived in England for over 45 years now, I have probably done my share of grumbling about many things British…, but I have always reminded myself of this wonderful, cheery Mr. Mac or Mc Something with his laughter, jokes , lovely bars of chocolate and chewy gum ( both for the first time in my life) and sheer kindness after years of fear and oppression, waiting for that knock on the front door in the middle of the night. Thank you, Mac.

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