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It was in 1942 when Willy passed her finals for the Grammar school and was immediately employed by Van Leer’s Vatenfabrieken, once a Jewish firm, but now under German control.
She was promoted quickly to the technical department, which she enjoyed. Her dearest wish would have been to study engineering, but universities were closing.

She had less time for me and also with Wim gone, my position in the family greatly improved. The whole of our house was at my disposal without restrictions. I could be my happy-go-lucky self. Life was more or less normal. The occupation did not affect us children too much, apart from the shortages and the presence of soldiers.

1942 was the year with many changes afoot of which I was blissfully unaware.

Through his firm, my father met Mr.Sanders, who helped people flee via an escape-route to Switzerland and Spain.
He had also set up an organisation that took care of people who had already gone into hiding in Holland.

Dr. V, also a member, persuaded my father to join this resistance movement, soon followed by Willy and Jan and Lien Marijnis, the couple in the top flat. He was in the police force. My mother was not to know anything about all this

One day on my way to school, I saw a flurry of activity. Men were busy pinning up a notice, ‘Forbidden for Jews’, on the park entrance, the benches, the tram, the swimming pool and even on the door of the hairdresser’s. Some shops were being boarded up. People stopped to watch and I wondered what they were whispering about together.

The persecution of the Jewish was in full swing and all of them were ordered to wear the Star of David, my mother explained. Not everybody did of course, despite the promise of 'protection’.

A small number of pupils in our school left. Teachers and professors were being sacked and when the students rebelled, the universities were closed. They could either all hide, or be sent to Germany to work in the factories.

How easily one could get involved. One evening we received a visit from a lovely couple with their three sons. They were Jewish. Their house and the contents had been confiscated by the S.S. They were fortunate to have escaped arrest, because they happened to be elsewhere at that time..
The father was short and well built with a kind face, the mother was a bit taller and very elegant.I was sent upstairs, bursting to know what it was about. When they eventually left, the eldest, who was my age stayed behind. I was so excited to hear that Fred was coming to live with us.
He had lovely short, wavy black hair and his mother’s dark-grey eyes.

I had it all worked out. He could go to my school and we would walk there together. He could have my bed as long as I got Wim’s!
At the time, understandably, I totally overlooked the fact that here stood a young boy giving a shy impression, but who was in reality very unsure of himself.To be separated from his parents, knowing his situation and to have to live with strangers, could not have been easy. Besides, he was given a new surname and had to be very careful not to slip up. He felt so much happier when he was told that John, his middle brother, was living with aunt Elisabeth and Frits, the youngest, with Opa, who had remarried after Oma’s death in 1940. Frits was a three-year old with blond curly hair and light grey eyes.

Fred and I got along very well together. However, I asked him so many questions that it frightened him and he complained to my father, who took me aside to ‘have a word’.
To my friends and the neighbours he was to be an evacuated relative, or better still, to walk away when asked who he was. Fred rarely went outside, anyway. He played his part extremely well. I never knew that he pretended to go to school. He walked around the block and when I was out of sight, he returned home. Sometimes, usually when it rained, he could leave home after me, because ‘his school was closer by’. I was totally taken in by that one!
Willy had taken it upon herself to try and teach Fred. ‘To help him with his homework’, she explained to me. It required a lot of patience as he was not particularly very keen. I remember her shouting at him. During the summer we went on a week’s holiday and cycled all the way to Markelo to stay at a farm.

Since the cows were in the fields, we slept on fresh straw in their stables.
Great fun! The weather was good. We played hide-and-seek among the corn sheaves, or we went on bike-rides.
On one of them we passed a butcher’s shop where my mother spotted a magnificent piece of ham. Unfortunately she had left her purse behind, so we cycled all the way back to collect it.
When we returned, the ham proved to be made of wood!

Every Friday night Fred would wear his kippah. Not to be outdone, I demanded one too. Margot, his mother, knitted me a nice woolly hat in the inevitable red, white and blue colours as a St. Nicholas present. She had also dressed my favourite doll, Pummeltje, in a gorgeous outfit all sewn by hand.Fred’s parents were both there for the occasion.

All presents were individually tied to a long string from the kitchen chimney and right through the hall to the living room. My patience was tested to the limit, because my biggest present was the last one and right at the end of the string

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.

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