In
September, 1939 Hitler
invaded Poland and in accordance with treaties signed earlier, Britain and
France declared war on the Germans. It took time for this war to get on it's
way in the West because the British were ill prepared relying on the
pronouncement of the British P.M. Neville Chamberlain upon return of a visit to Berlin
in 1936: "Peace in our time"!
The
Dutch Government called up the reserve (conscripted) army but they were convinced Holland
would remain neutral (like 1914-18) because of the virtually 100% German blood of the Dutch Royal family! This
is not one of my inventions but quoted from official sources
My
father Jan Jansen was called up from a very busy life as cameraman and (commercial)
film producer at Polygoon in Haarlem to go on holiday in the army. He became driver of a mobile kitchen unit
which distributed meals and coffee to army detachments in a 20 km area around
Driebergen. Three times a day a trip of 30 kms. Oh yes, they had to do the
cooking as well. As an ex Boy Scout Jan Polygoon knew a little about cooking
but his mate who was supposed the cook was a chap Biesheuvel, a rich farmer who
lived just North of Haarlem. Brother of the later Minister of Agriculture. (Zelfde
boerenkop !) He had never even boiled an egg !
My
mother was expecting our youngest brother in January 1940. The old man with his
film connections, arranged film shows for the troops at night with projectors
and films belonging to Polygoon on behalf of O.N.O. a Ministry of Defence
department: Ontwikkeling & Ontspanning !! Of
course the films and projectors had to be taken back soonest and my father came
home most nights! He took his mate Biesheuvel with him as well.. Biesheuvel had to check things on his farm! They both enjoyed their enforced easy life to
the full !
But
the war pot was starting to boil!
During
a short Easter School Recess in May 1940 I went with a schoolmate Johnny
Robertson to stay at a first class hotel belonging to his uncle, hotel den Burgh, in Den Helder, the Dutch
Naval base, 70 km North of Haarlem. We went by bicycle. Had a great time
enjoying sumptuous meals and exploring the town and surroundings on our
bicycles. Every morning raisin bread for breakfast plus bacon and eggs ! Exotic meals for lunch and dinner as well ! Real spoiled brats.
Early
on the 10th May 1940 (about 5 am) I woke up to what seemed to be the
sound of somebody trying to start a motor cycle outside my bedroom window
overlooking the sea. It turned out to be a heavy machine gun manned by Dutch
soldiers, firing
at German Junker planes which were
laying mines in the Marsdiep, the stretch of water outside the harbour and the
isle of Texel to the North of it. At a range of over a couple of 1000 meters
they didn't do much damage.
Some
more activity
developed when Dutch seaplanes took off from de Kooy, taking on superior German
war planes. For us young
boys a good show. Unhealthy for the Dutch
pilots. The weather was superb and altogether an exciting day for two 12
year olds.
For
the information of those born after that time, Holland had produced excellent
planes on a par and some better than the Germans ( Fokker
G1 was one) but the Government did not want to spent money because the war
would surely by-pass us again.
My
mother had a number of reasons to be excited too! A few days before the war started, the old
man had been recalled from his milk run and recruited into a Government film
unit. He had 'phoned her to say he was in Rotterdam filming fierce fighting
between Dutch Marines and German para-troopers which had been dropped on the
bridges South of Rotterdam. He was in the thick of it. At the same time her eldest son was in a vulnerable
part at the main Naval base! But she kept her cool !
Great woman !
My
Dad missed the bombing of the centre of Rotterdam (an open city) by the Germans
by the skin of his teeth. After filming the thick of the battle his colleague
had suggested to have a beer in the main street of
Rotterdam Coolsingel but my father wanted to get home and decided they must get
on with it. Five minutes later the Coolsingel was flattened by an unprovoked
German air raid and thousands of people died!
So
it was decided that Johnnie Robertson and I would cycle back to Haarlem about
70 kms to the South as soon as possible, i.e. on the Saturday morning. Only bit of excitement on the way home was
when an American fighter plane came to have a look at us but he merely waved at
us. Bit saddle sore as well because we were in a hurry and could not rest
except when the plane came for us !
Anyhow
the weather was fine and we did get home safely. The remaining three days of
the fight in Holland were fairly uneventful for us.
Holland
surrendered on the 14th May and my father officially became prisoner
of war. But with the rank of soldier only, he was allowed to go home !.
The
Germans entered Haarlem on the 15th. Motorcycles
with side cars. They behaved correctly but not for long. Nevertheless
for us the first few years were uneventful if highly humiliating and
frustrating because our Jewish neighbours and friends (barring a few who
managed to shelter with heroic (usually ordinary) Dutch families) were led away
like cattle to slaughter.
We
struggled like all other Dutch people but we were also lucky. Through a friend (owner of
Frans Hals cinema in Haarlem) my father got a to know part of the Dutch underground formed by ex
policemen, professionals. We had a large garage which was used to store loot
which the underground cops used to steal from German warehouses and distribute
to the families of ex policemen who refused to work for the Germans and
therefore had been deprived of ration cards. Every now and then a truck used to
turn up at our house at night after the curfew , to offload a couple of tons of coal, food and
other things which we kids were not to see. Afterward people on foot used to
come and collect their shares very quiet- and secretly.
It
also meant my identity papers were professionally altered to read born 1929
instead of the actual 1928. So, I was not required to go to work in Germany.
Then
the underground people organised a transport to Friesland and back with a
fishing boat towing two barges via inland canals and the Zuiderzee and back,
the latter part being the most important part! The potatoes, flour etc. were to
be stored at the premises of
bakkerij Vermaat who had a
small secluded private harbour just off the Spaarne river in Haarlem.
The
German guards at the many locks had to be taken care of and here my old man had
another trump up his sleeve. Connections with the Bols gin
and liqueur factory who supplied a couple of cartons of their products every
now and then.
In
fact in November, 1944,, my mother and I went to
Friesland on our bikes and false papers supplied by the Underground to order and organise the transport at that
end. Men were not available because they were supposed to be working in German
factories. A few bottles of schnapps came in handy here as well. I might add
that most of the German guards were old men ex army and just as sick and tired
of the war as everybody else. They did not make any trouble. And they liked
Bols genever !
In Sneek, after eating food like bacon
and eggs, fatty gravy etc.
I got as sick as a dog because my stomach was not used to it. In fact I could not cycle back but we had to
go because our (false) permits expired.
My indefatigable mother arranged a lift for the two of us and our bikes
on top of a truck operated by black marketeers who were going via the
Afsluitdijk to Amsterdam. We paid them with very special car generator
anthracite of which we had a stock in our garage courtesy Underground ! We were almost attacked by British
fighter planes when we had to stop and fix the huge generator by scraping out a
large chunk of white hot coal ash which was blocking the proper flow of the
fire. It lit up the neighbourhood, hence the plane's attention. But he did not shoot !
The
"bonanza" from Friesland helped us and quite a few old people in our
street as well as our relatives in Amsterdam, to get through the war alive.
All
this was at the end of the war but the beginning, the 10th May, remains the most
memorable of all remembrance days for me and I am sure for all my countrymen
who were in Holland in 1940.
Anton
Jansen