Deliver Us From Darkness

by Ian Gardner

  Before the regiment moved out, Bob Harwick found time to visit the temporary cemetery opposite the drop zone at Wolfswinkel. Harwick wanted to pay his last respects to the men, especially Johnny Hahn, whose white wooden cross was adorned with a bouquet of geraniums simply inscribed “From Mother, Father & Family.”

  * Piet was a Catholic priest who had settled in the United States in 1931. Martien dashed off and came back with a letter he had written to Piet in April 1940 which he had been unable to send because of the German invasion. Shames agreed to redirect it to his sister via the army postal system. Although Piet had moved, Anna managed to track him down and pass on the letter. Piet then replied using Shames’ APO address in Holland. Martien died in January 1978, six months before his brother Piet. Today in 2011, Martien’s granddaughters, Peggy and Leslie, run the business from the same location at Kerkstraat 50, although the original building was redeveloped in the 1950s.

  * After the war the railway fell into decline and the last section between Boxtel and Veghel closed in 2004. Today in 2011, the wetlands that surround the old bridge abound with wildlife making Dorshout an area of outstanding natural beauty.

  * Lukasavage spent the next two years recuperating in England, El Paso, Texas, and O’Reilly General Hospital, Springfield, Missouri, from where he was finally discharged in 1946.

  9

  “Life and death on the Island”

  Surviving the nightmare

  In 1944, the civilian population of the Betuwe, “the Island,” numbered around 40,000 people and many of the towns and villages – such as Kesteren, Opheusden, Zetten, and Valburg – were made up of deeply religious farming communities, while others, like Echteld, Randwijk, Dodewaard, Heteren, and Driel, depended on shipbuilding, tobacco, and jam-making industries. Brick manufacture was another important employer, with at least a dozen factories situated along the Rijn (to the north) and the Waal (to the south). Dissected by three main railway networks and the Linge Canal, which comprised two channels during the war, the Island had superb transportation links to Arnhem and Nijmegen in the east and also the larger industrial cities to the west. These transport networks were heavily policed by the NSB, and the Quisling militia, who were easily recognizable in their brown uniforms.

  One power-hungry NSB activist from Hemmen, Johan den Dunne, became synonymous among the local populace for being corrupt. Den Dunne, who was 23-years-old, was instrumental in establishing checkpoints around the island at railway and coach stations, looking for what he deemed to be “contraband” goods. On average, black-market supplies were usually sold in the more urban areas where one could expect to pay at least five times the normal price. Items such as sugar were highly sought after, and one kilo could cost as much as 25 guilders (nearly two weeks’ salary for some agricultural workers).

  Incredibly the town of Zetten was out of bounds to all German troops. There were around 16 educational facilities and homes in Zetten, all belonging to the Heldring Stichting (Foundation), a church-funded charity for underprivileged girls aged 12 to 18, originally established in 1848 by local Protestant priest Father Otto Heldring. Soon after the invasion in 1940, Heldring’s great-grandson Otto, also a priest, managed to convince the Germans that if their troops were allowed to fraternize with the older girls they could be exposed to all manner of sexually transmitted diseases. Of course this was completely untrue but owing to the fact that several homes were dedicated to underage mothers, the German military authority believed the trick. From 1940 onwards, signs were placed on roads leading into the village stating, “BETRETEN DES ORTES FÜR ANGEHÖRIGE DER DEUTSCHEN WEHRMACHT VERBOTEN” (Entering this place for members of the German Army is forbidden). Even so, the Heldring girls were always kept under strict supervision when outside the confines of the institution.*

  Janna “Jannie” Anderson (neé Arnoldussen) was 16-years-old in 1942, and came from a large family who had been living on the Island for over 100 years. Her parents, Johan and Daatje, lived comfortably at 25 Molenstraat in Zetten, close to the Linge Canal, where they raised livestock and grew a variety of vegetables and fruit. Johan was the local postmaster, while Daatje stayed at home with the children: “My parents enjoyed outdoor activities and often went walking in the parkland around Hemmen near the castle,” remembers Jannie. “Along with my older brother Joop and sister Allie, we always had chores to do around the house and it was my job to milk the cows before and after school.”

  The Germans took over dairy production and issued local farmers with special containers to collect the milk. Every year each farm and eligible household was expected to deliver at least one cow for slaughter as Jannie recalls: “My father was no exception and made the journey across the Rijn to the cattle market at Wageningen several times during the occupation. Things deteriorated to a point where you couldn’t trust your neighbors, some of whom belonged to the Controle Dienst.” Controle Dienst (CD, Control Duty) men were mainly local farmers, who either volunteered or were forced by the authorities to assess farming output and search private homes for undeclared food products. As experienced farmers, the CD men had a good understanding of crop yields and cattle farming and often turned a blind eye to any shortfalls. Dodewaard farmer Dirk van Tintelen recalls one particular incident concerning the Controle Dienst. “A neighbor came to me for help and we decided to play the system. My friend had a beautiful fattened calf due to be handed over to the CD, which we switched for my newly born runt. When the authorities visited my farm to collect, I told them that my animal had been still born and they went away none the wiser. After our small victory we butchered his beast and shared the meat amongst our families.”

  At 24-years-old, Frits van Schaik had worked in the shipyards at Dodewaard for almost ten years. Local resistance leader Menzo van Wely worked as an accountant at the same shipyard as Frits, who recalls:

  One day Menzo tentatively inquired if I would be prepared to repair weapons for his BS Group in Dodewaard. Most of the guns were German that had either been lost in 1940 or stolen by the resistance. To be honest this work was no less dangerous than any other underground activity as the penalty for being caught was still the same – death! Usually before being shot the unfortunate individual would be tortured to betray the names of his/her group. For this reason, I knew only Menzo and his brother-in-law Teunis “Teun” Meurs. Subsequently, I worked quite closely with Teun who lived in Hien.

  Teun and Frits would often go together on recon missions to identify and record enemy positions. Most of the weapons repaired by Frits were taken care of by a Mr Koedood, who lived somewhere in Tiel. In the summer of 1942, Menzo asked Frits to go with him to purchase a rifle from local man Teunis van Eck, who lived in Dodewaard, as Frits recalls:

  Van Eck told us that he wanted 20 guilders for the weapon despite the fact that it was not available for us to see. Reluctantly, Menzo handed over the money and arranged for the gun to be collected a few nights later and taken to Tiel by another BS cell from Arnhem. What Menzo didn’t know was that among the Arnhem group was a traitor who, when the rifle was delivered, betrayed everyone involved, including Mr Koedood and Teun van Eck. The following morning, unaware of the arrests, I stopped by Van Eck’s house on my way to work. His wife became hysterical and told me what had happened and asked to see Menzo but when I got to the yard, I discovered that he had “dived” and gone into hiding. I was afraid that under torture, Van Eck would reveal my name but nothing more was heard from him. It was only after the war we learned that poor old Teunis had died in a concentration camp on May 12, 1944.

  Initially during the occupation, Allied bombers only flew at night but as the war progressed, they began to attack railways and shipping in broad daylight. Shortly before the liberation, Frits van Schaik was travelling by train from Sliedrecht to Dodewaard when the engine was attacked by fighter planes in Geldermalsen and destroyed. “Like most trains all over occupied Europe, the last two wagons were fitted with AAA guns. During the attack the gunners were unable to return fire because the
y were beneath the roof of the station. Two people were killed and it took more than two hours before a replacement engine could be found. About 20 minutes after setting off from Geldermalsen, the new engine was attacked and badly damaged at Kesteren.”

  Johannes “Hannes” van den Hatert, a 21-year-old working on the railways at the time, recalls: “For the most part, if the Allied pilots saw that a train was not armed with AAA guns, they would circle overhead three times. This alerted the driver, allowing him time to stop, and for the passengers to leave the train, before the aircraft began their attack. I personally witnessed this happen on several occasions, near Kesteren.”

  The constant air attacks meant that food became scarce but the countryfolk were always able to covertly purchase vegetables, milk, and bacon from local farmers. The German authorities could be petty at times and would never tolerate the sale of unauthorized goods, such as apples and cherries. If caught, an individual – who after all was just trying to make a few extra pennies – could be fined and sent to prison.

  As the air war intensified over the Betuwe, more aircraft were shot down. Others dropped their bomb loads over the Island after being damaged, in order to improve their chances of getting home. The Germans even ordered civilians to dig trenches along all main roads to protect their soldiers from air attack. A number of Allied planes came down, but one crash in particular stands out in the memory of the local population. On the night of June 25, 1943, a Royal Canadian Air Force Handley Page Halifax from 419 “Moose” Squadron, flown by Sgt George Neale, crashed at Indoornik, one mile north of Zetten. Crewman Sgt Ross McLachlan, who was 22-years-old at the time, recalls:

  We were only on our third mission, when the plane was attacked near Cologne by two Focke-Wulf 190 night fighters. At first I wasn’t aware that a fragment of cannon shell had embedded itself in my arm, until blood began to seep across the maps in front of me on my navigator’s table. But at the time it seemed the least of my worries. As the pilot struggled to regain control the outer starboard engine disintegrated and then the inner caught fire. After jettisoning the bombs we descended to around 10,000 feet and circled, looking for a place to land. We assumed our respective crash positions and waited anxiously while Neale, using all of his skill, brought the aircraft safely down. As the plane lurched to a halt, George was thrown head-first through the escape hatch but amazingly was unharmed.

  Overview of ‘the Island’ campaign, October 3–November 27, 1944

  At first light the men said goodbye to each other and split into two escape groups leaving bomb aimer Sgt Bill Jaffray behind with McLachlan. At 0530hrs, after destroying any sensitive equipment and disposing of maps and documents, the two airmen walked west towards Hemmen, where they bumped into 15-year-old Bart Franken, who worked at the castle. Bart led the two men into a nearby orchard where several local people were already picking cherries. Now badly in need of medical attention, Ross was advised as to the whereabouts of the local doctor. After a breakfast of precious cherries, the two airmen headed into Zetten but soon became disorientated. Roelf Polman, a 16-year-old language student, was woken by English voices in the street and went outside to investigate: “Clearly the men were in trouble, so I agreed to act as their translator and went with them to Dr De Hully’s place along Steenbeekstraat, near the Christine Hermine School. Once inside, Sgt McLachlan collapsed and had to be revived by Mrs De Hully, using a handkerchief soaked in cologne. The doctor treated Ross but was concerned about what the Germans might do if they found out. The Canadians agreed that it might be best if he telephoned a local policeman named Lassche, who lived next door to the school and immediately came over to arrest Ross and Jaffray.”

  Meanwhile, a large crowd had gathered outside the doctor’s house and began taunting the pro-German Lassche with endless choruses of the Dutch National Anthem! The NSB constable barely made it back through the crowd to his house, where he telephoned the authorities. It was nearly an hour later, by which time Lassche had begun to fear for his life, that a couple of German soldiers arrived on a motorcycle and began to disperse the crowd with their pistols.

  The local greengrocer, Willem van IJzendoorn, stepped out of the throng and approached the airmen as they were leaving Lassche’s house. Nicknamed “the Krol” because of his height and stature, Van IJzendoorn handed a bag of oranges to Bill Jaffray and said, “These are the color of our Queen’s house – good luck friend.” Oranges like these were a rarity during the war, distributed once or twice a year to schoolchildren through local grocers like Van IJzendoorn. Strictly against regulations and at great risk, Van IJzendoorn had kept a small supply for his own family. Lassche, now sweating profusely, knocked the oranges from Bill’s hand. The Krol picked up the citrus fruits and handed them back to Jaffray, and in doing so growled a threat at Lassche. Lassche did not react, knowing that if the Krol didn’t tear him apart, the crowd surely would. With the two Germans doing their best to contain the situation, Lassche, closely followed by a growing mass of people, marched his two prisoners along Kerkstraat, passed the Dorpschool (today the Van Lingen School) and the Dutch Reform Church, to the bus stop on the corner next to the Hofman pharmacy. Waiting outside was impossible so the airmen were taken into the drug store through a back entrance, where they were held in the kitchen until the bus arrived to take them across the river to Arnhem.

  Ross McLachlan concludes, “The crowd almost rioted as we departed with the policeman for the German Police HQ at Arnhem. Bill and I were only at the police station for a few hours, when George Neal and the rest of the crew were brought in. From here we were sent to Amsterdam for interrogation and eventually ended up in a POW camp [Stalag Luft 6] near Memel in East Prussia … all in all it was quite an experience.” The Germans posted guards at the crash site, which became a local tourist attraction. Three weeks later, and much to the disappointment of local children, the aircraft was dismantled and taken away.

  On September 17, 1944, Allied fighter planes attacked German antiaircraft sites in the Betuwe, as the first gliders passed overhead and began landing six miles away at Renkum and Wolfheze along with thousands of British paratroopers. One low flying plane was seen with a soldier trailing behind still attached to his static line! Several gliders and transport aircraft crashed in the fields around Zetten. One glider carrying a team of signallers landed on Dick-Jan Bakker’s farm in Hemmen: “After unpacking their jeep and trailer the men drove to Driel, where amazingly they actually managed to catch the ferry across the Rijn to Arnhem!”

  Many local people thought that the war might be coming to an end but they were wrong as Jannie Arnoldussen recalls: “Living on the Island became a nightmare, so my dad dug an air raid trench in the backyard to protect us from the daily artillery and mortar barrages. At night, like many of our neighbors, we slept on mattresses in the cellar.”

  Frans Mientjes was seven-years-old at the time and came from a large family living in Valburg: “Before the liberation, the RAF accidentally bombed Nijmegen and over 800 civilians were killed. My 15-year-old brother Piet was studying in Nijmegen at the time and directly after the bombing the Germans established a hospital in his school. The older boys were sent by the Germans into the streets to collect the wounded. I’ll never forget this but my brother told me that he went into a nearby park and happened to look over a small bridge onto the footpath below. On ground was the mangled body of what appeared to be a young girl, about ten-years-old, and lying just a few yards away was one of her legs perfectly intact, still wearing a rollerskate.”

  As liberation grew closer the Allies parachuted in liaison officers (LOs) to train the Dutch underground in resupply procedures. Before a supply drop could go ahead, the LOs sought permission from the landowner, who was nearly always a local farmer sympathetic to the cause. This was a dangerous business and if suspected, the farmer and his family ran the risk of being sent to a concentration camp and their property being destroyed. The Germans deployed air guards every night specifically to detect these clandestine operations. B
etween 2015hrs and 2030hrs every evening the BBC would broadcast regular coded messages regarding drops on Radio Oranje. A reception committee would mark the DZ with an assigned code letter, either by using small bonfires or by flashing a codeword in Morse. Shortly before the end of September, the RAF dropped a consignment of weapons close to Opheusden, specifically for the underground to use during the forthcoming Allied assault on the Island.

  By 1944, Dirk van Tintelen had been assisting the Dodewaard BS for some time: “During this period, I was living in Kesteren at a local bicycle dealer, Bram van Ingen’s place and slept in one of his outbuildings. Although we were armed with Sten guns it was always nerve-wracking especially after our commander, Van Zanten, was captured and executed.”

  Not long after Van Zanten’s death, another resistance leader, Rijk van de Pol, and his wife Jans asked the BS for assistance. The couple lived in a large imposing four-story house on the northern bank of the Rijn, next to the railway viaduct at Rhenen. Allied intelligence wanted to know German strengths and locations around the Grebbeberg. The British had information that German troops were resting somewhere in the area. Dirk van Tintelen volunteered for the mission and after crossing the railway bridge reported to Van de Pol, before heading east over the Grebbeberg towards Wageningen.

  As protection, Van Tintelen carried newly forged identity papers stating he was a devout member of the National Socialist Movement and a foreman in a local factory:

  Walking along the main road over the Grebbe, I could see the enemy troops with their heavy equipment, concealed in the woods. The soldiers looked exhausted and much to my surprise didn’t challenge me, until I approached the base of the hill, where I was stopped and searched by two men manning a machine gun.