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The following story appears courtesy of and with thanks to Gord and Leslie Davison.

After about three weeks an unusual incident occurred which enlightened us as to why it had been so quiet in the House. As I mentioned earlier there was only one bathroom in the House and this, situated on the ground floor adjacent to the kitchen, was a busy place. One afternoon Lena called upstairs that " the Way is free to go beneath ". This was her way of telling us that the bathroom was free and there were no strangers in the House or to be expected. I told Theo that my need was rather urgent and he said, "all right you go first." I had only been in the bathroom about minutes when someone tried the door. I immediately sensed that something was wrong so I kept very quiet. After a few seconds the handle was tried again, however I kept quiet until Nico came to the door and said that was all right to come out now. He told me to go upstairs quickly without any explanation as to what was going on. The next evenings we were informed that the person who tried the bathroom door was an elderly Jewish gentleman. This man had been hiding from the S. S. and had been with Nico and Lena for some months. It was his custom to have a short walk around the grounds of the House and church after lunch every day and it was during these outings that we had the chance to use the facilities. However it appeared that on the previous day he had been seized with an urgent desire to use the bathroom, after he had only been out a few minutes and on being confronted with a locked door he had become rather agitated. He could see Lena and Trijnkje in the kitchen and heard Nico working in his study, so he probably thought, " who is in the bathroom? ". He apparently came to the conclusion that someone else was hiding in the House, as the next morning, he set out on his bicycle and was not heard from again until the war ended .
After our mysterious "onderduiver" had left it made our lives a little less constrained. We were able to use the bathroom more frequently athough we still dare not go downstairs without permission from Nico or Lena. It to also allowed us to spend most evenings and parlor with their posts.
The electricity had been turned off by the authorities and the only light we had was produced by canister of Carbide, about the size of a one pound jam jar, with a hole in the top. The addition of a small amount of water would produce a gas which issued from hole and which could be ignited. A small white flame was produced and this was a sole source of light. It was enough power to illuminate the chessboard and provide Lena with light to read.
Theo and I, of course, were very anxious to hear news of our impending move. The days seemed to drag on, when finally, a gentlemen who's name was Mr. Doktor but in fact was a baker, informed us that we would we should be ready to leave the following evening about seven PM. The next evening we said our good-byes to Lena and Nico and were told by the courier "Henk" to follow him in the usual fashion, one hundred meters to the rear and to ignore him if the authorities stopped him. We mounted the same bicycles we arrived on, no tires, and set off in the rain with raincoats covering our uniforms.
We have no idea where we were going, and had learned not to ask. We were told only what we needed to know. This was the method adopted by the underground forces to protect themselves in case any of their charges were picked up by the SS as or the " green police " (these were the Dutch police who were collaborating with the Germans). It was based on the fact if you didn't know, and then you couldn't tell, even under the most extreme torture. We pedaled doggedly for about an hour no problems; we were very obvious as the tire-less bicycles made a hell of a racket on the cobblestone road. However because of the heavy rain and the fact that it was now after the curfew hour of 8:00 there was no one else about and we were not challenged.
It was about this time that we got a scare. We were riding on a two-lane highway and a German army truck, traveling in the same direction, slowed down to our speed. The soldier in the passenger seat leaned out of the window and asked Theo, who was on my left, for directions to Amersfoort. Fortunately Theo could speak German but hadn't the foggiest idea where Amersfoort was. So he gave them some meaningless directions and, a to our immense relief the truck went on its way. It was sometime before my heart stopped pounding.
About one AM "Henk" turned into the driveway of a very large house and ushered us inside. We were very surprised to find the place crawling with airborne soldiers from the various units that had fought at the Battle of Arnhem, RAF types who had been shot down and evaded capture and a few other odd characters who were on the run from the Germans. Theo immediately recognized some of his fellow medical officers, among who was Captain Lippman Kessel, a surgeon from South Africa and major " Shorty " Longland, another surgeon. Naturally there was quite a bit of reminiscing by all of us, mainly as to how we had escaped and where we had been in the meantime.
We were also told that we would be there overnight and given some food. We were trying in get some sleep, where we could find a place on the floor, as it might be some time before we got another chance. The next evenings, as soon as it got dark, we were packed into various vehicles, some of which had been stolen from the Germans, and started on a journey south towards the Rhine.
We had been briefed earlier that we would be taken as close to the river as was prudent and from there would march to the Rhine where boats from the other side would be waiting for us to ferry as to safety.
The road trip was uneventful, if somewhat uncomfortable, and after about an hour and a half we turned off into a wooded area and told to disembark. We formed up in a single file and, as it was pitch dark, held on to the coattails of the man in front. When everybody had arrived, there were about 120 of us, we moved off due south through thick woods with instructions to keep quiet, no talking and no smoking. I estimated that we were about twenty-five miles north of the Rhine and it was now nine PM.
We had five hours to get to the river if we were to be on time. This would be sufficient if we simply had to march this distance, but walking single file through woods and having taken numerous detours to avoid enemy posts, it was obvious that we would be very late. We could only hope that our friends from the south side of the river would wait for us. In the event in it didn't matter as, after about an hour's walking, we suddenly heard machine-gun fire ahead and everyone scattered in every direction. Four of us ran together to the east and after about a quarter of an hour stop to discuss our situation.
There was a captain in Noble, a Scottish medical officer, two sergeants, glider pilots and myself. We decided that as we didn't know where we were and the fact that there was at a distinct possibility of our running into German patrols we had better hole up somewhere and try to contact the underground again. We quickly found at cow barn and settled in on the upper floor under the hay. Everybody was soon asleep, and in no time, or so it seemed. Movement in the barn below awakened me. It was six thirty and I silently crawled over to the hole in the floor from which hay was dropped down, very carefully I peered down into the stable area and saw a rather tall and Dutchman who was preparing to milk the cows. I said, in a controversial way, good morning and the startled aha farmer looked up quickly to see who was speaking.
It was apparent that he was aware of what had happened the night before, as he did not appear to be too surprised to see me. By now the others were awake and they all showed themselves to the farmer. He said that he did not speak much English but got the message across that he would bring us some food.
Within 10 minutes he was back with a shopping basket filled with ham and cheese and sandwiches and a jug of fresh milk with 4 mugs. He indicated that he would bring someone to see us after he had finished milking and asked us to stay where we were in and keep quiet as he didn't want any the farmhands and know we were there. We spent the morning talking quietly amongst ourselves, discovering who was who and whatever happened to them since their escape.
By pure coincidence it turned out that one of the glider pilots was called Geoffrey Mallinson and came from my hometown of Keighley in Yorkshire. His father was the manager of the Yorkshire Penny Bank where I had an account. Around noon our friendly farmer came with lunch which consisted of delicious soup and black bread. He told us; as best he could, that someone would come in the afternoon and that we would be leaving. We thanked him for his hospitality but he indicated that it was the least he could do for the liberators of his country.

Continued....
'This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by 大象传媒 Radio Merseyside鈥檚 People鈥檚 War team on behalf of the author and has been added to the site with his / her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.'

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