Bank representatives immediately contacted the Royal Dutch Steamboat Company (KNSM) to arrange transportation, but found that it had already sent most of its vessels out to sea in advance of the anticipated invasion. There were only three ships left, the SS Perseus, the SS Titus and the SS Iris. The company was willing to lease them despite the war dangers. The gold was too heavy for just one vessel and the Perseus was not ready to leave, so bank officials decided to take the other two. The Dutch are infamous in Europe for bargaining hard over prices, so it was not surprising that the bank and the shipping company quickly got into an argument over the cost of leasing the boats. The company said the price would be ƒ830,000, but Deputy Bank Director A.M. de Jong said that was too much. He counter offered ƒ415,000, but the shipping company responded that was not enough. De Jong quickly pointed out that the company had sent ships empty to Britain. Surely the lower price was better than nothing.19
While the haggling was going on, the bank president was on the phone with the Bank of England explaining the Dutch problem getting their gold out of the country. Once off the phone, he impatiently told de Jong that there were a hundred other more important things to do at this time of crisis than haggling over the price of the boats. He told him just to make a deal! The two sides finally agreed on ƒ500,000.20
The Iris and the Titus soon departed for the port of IJmuiden to pick up 70.6 tons of gold bars from the Amsterdam bank office. Klaas de Jong, the captain of the Iris, had learned about the German attack early that morning. He was waiting for a favorable tide to start a scheduled trip to Italy and was anxious to leave, but he quickly contacted his office and asked what he should do. With a brusqueness common to ship commanders, he insisted that the crew stay. Policemen eventually came aboard the Iris and told the crew that as soon as the country had been invaded, they had become members of the military. So they were now under army orders. The police also had all the seamen sign pledges of loyalty to the country.21
With the crew becoming more nervous by the hour, de Jong waited for instructions. Finally at 5:00 in the afternoon, he was told to move his ship into a nearby dock and prepare to leave. As soon as it was dark, he heard the sound of trucks bringing the cargo to the ships. When they arrived, workmen quickly loaded the steel-belted boxes on board. No one had told the captain what they contained, but the workers knew because of the weight. Once the cargo was aboard, an official of the Dutch bank had the captain sign a receipt for eighty-seven million guilders. No one had told de Jong where he was supposed to go, but he figured that he would learn later. With its siren blaring, the vessel slowly pulled away from the dock and immediately ran into the bedlam of boats trying to leave Holland. It was now dark, which gave the Iris some cover, but also made it harder to see the mines the Germans had dropped in the canals. The captain finally received a simple order: “Get away and try to reach England.” He was also told that a naval escort would pick him up once he was in open ocean and lead him to his final destination.
For the next two hours the Iris inched its way through the harbor. De Jong decided to go out into the North Sea and head southeast toward the Belgian coast since it was a route he knew well. He hoped that he could reach there by dawn. Everything was going fine until shortly after the sun came up. A German plane spotted the Iris and dove right at the ship with its machine guns firing. Miraculously no serious damage was done. Following the attack, de Jong broke radio silence and sent a radio message asking where the escort was that was supposed to take him to Britain.22
Soon a second Nazi plane appeared in the sky, and the captain sent another message, “Attacked again.” Operators in Amsterdam replied: “Escort is on the way.” Eventually de Jong saw on the horizon lights from the cruiser HMS Arethusa and the destroyer HMS Boreas. Using a signal light, the Boreas flashed the message: “Are you the Iris.” De Jong replied: “Yes.” The British ships, which had been looking for both the Titus and the Iris, ordered the vessel to follow them toward the English Channel. For several hours the Dutch ship chased the two larger crafts as they zigged and zagged to throw off enemy vessels. Finally, the three ships pulled into the Thames estuary and headed toward Tilbury. At 5:20 P.M. on May 11, the captain signaled the harbor control officer that he wanted to enter the docks, and the escort ships left. As the Iris pulled up to the dock, the British officer on duty shouted, “You must be a very important ship with such an escort!” De Jong barked back, “Mind your own business.”
Once he tied up, the captain told British guards that he had to see the commander at once, adding sternly, “No one must leave my ship!” When he got to the main office, the officer on duty asked matter-of-factly what was on board. De Jong replied, “My cargo is only gold.” Armed guards then quickly surrounded the vessel. When he returned to the Iris, de Jong saw off in the distance the Titus at anchor. The British ship Keith had met it out at sea and brought it in. The gold from both the Iris and the Titus was soon loaded onto trucks and taken to the Bank of England.23
At The Hague early in the evening of May 10, everything was going badly for the Dutch. The royal family was better protected at the Noordeinde Palace, but the German army, helped by some Dutch traitors, had taken up positions directly in front of the building. Snipers in a nearby house shot at anyone who left the palace. In addition, more German airborne troops were falling from the skies. Prince Bernhard returned sniper fire from the palace with a hunting rifle. He also got into a fistfight with a Dutch army officer, who had gone over to the Nazi side and tried to enter the palace.
The Dutch government was still working to get the royal family and more gold out on a British ship, but was having problems coordinating everything. The queen lamented, “If anything happens to my daughter, I will shoot myself.” Prince Bernhard wanted to stay behind and fight for his adopted country against his native nation, but the queen insisted that he leave with his family. Wilhelmina was determined to remain in Holland, saying she would kill herself rather than let the Nazis take her prisoner.24
Late in the afternoon, central bank officials in Amsterdam finished packing twelve trucks and one of its steel-plated vans with gold. When the last one was loaded, the caravan took off for IJmuiden, where British ships waited to take the bullion to Britain. The van with a bank director on board made a detour to the palace to pick up Princess Juliana, her family, and some staff. The group quickly scrambled on board. Beside the driver was an armed bodyguard, who carried the royal family’s crown jewels in a cardboard box tied with string. Value: $6 million. After the war, Prince Bernhard told the British author Alfred Draper, that in the back of the van were boxes of gold covered with straw. The two royal children were sitting on them. The van had no identification marks except the license plate G44645 on the front bumper. There were only two small windows on the side of the van. Prince Bernhard posted himself next to one window, while E.J. van Olathe, a submarine commander attached to the queen, sat at the other. With tears in her eyes, Juliana cried, “I have a feeling I will not see my mother again.” Despite continuous fighting around them, the vehicle had no military escort because that might have attracted attention.25
The black van stayed off the main roads, taking three hours to go the thirty miles between The Hague and IJmuiden. Dutch roadblocks stopped the security truck from time to time, but quickly let the group proceed once soldiers recognized the royals inside. Having no idea who was in the vehicle, German soldiers randomly shot at it, although no serious damage was done. Bernhard ordered everyone not to return fire, fearing that would only attract more attention.
At the dock mayhem prevailed. Hundreds of fearful Dutch citizens crowded along the docks desperate to get on British ships or anything that would take them out of the country. German dive-bombers attacked the crowds, and Nazi Stukas staged dogfights against the diminished, but determined, Dutch Army Aviation Brigade. The most frightening moments occurred when German planes fitted with sirens that let out high-pitched screams dove toward the crowds. The aircraft came in from the direction of
the sun and were invisible until only seconds before they flew over the tops of ships and then soared back into the sky. Gunners returned fire, but scored few hits.
HMS Codrington, a British destroyer commissioned ten years earlier, left Britain on May 10 with orders to go to IJmuiden and evacuate Princess Juliana and her family. The commander was Captain G. E. Creasy. The previous December the ship had taken King George VI to France to visit troops, and the following month took Prime Minister Chamberlain and Winston Churchill, then the First Lord of British Admiralty, to inspect the French battlefronts. The ship had also been in northern Norway to support that country’s battle with the Nazis.26
The Codrington pulled into the IJmuiden harbor without the benefit of a pilot boat, but accompanied by HMS Hyperion and HMS Windsor. Captain Creasy made three unsuccessful attempts to dock, but finally landed on the fourth try and tied up at about 9:00 P.M. He was dismayed to learn that his royal passengers and their valuable accompanying baggage had not yet arrived. At a half hour before midnight, the royals finally scrambled aboard. Even though German aircraft couldn’t have known who was on the vessel, the planes quickly attacked the Codrington. Bernhard asked the crew not to fire back lest it draw more attacks. With the insouciance of a toddler, Princess Beatrix watched the spectacle with her baby sister sitting in her lap.27
After the royal family finally reached the Codrington, the destroyer immediately departed. Just then, a German plane dropped a magnetic mine setting off an underwater explosion that severely rocked the mighty vessel, but did no serious damage. Captain Creasy ordered full steam ahead, and the ship was soon out into the North Sea heading to Harwich on Britain’s southeast coast. The destroyers HMS Vivacious and HMS Venetia escorted her home. A flotilla of small ships desperate to escape Holland also accompanied the convoy. The Codrington arrived that same day at 8:00 A.M., and Captain Creasy wrote in his log: “The Royal party disembarked after giving me the honour of their presence for breakfast at 09.15.”28
A month later, the crown princess and her two daughters left Britain for Canada to get even further away from Hitler’s war. The royal party arrived in Halifax on June 11 aboard the Dutch vessels Java and Tromp. The following day, two French captains who were picking up American aircraft visited her on the Java. The Princess was gracious but cried much of the time and told them of the horrors that had happened to her country. At noon she took a train to Quebec and went into an exile that would last nearly five years.29
On May 10, the British Admiralty sent the destroyer HMS Wild Swan to the Hook of Holland on the North Sea coast near the entrance to the Nieuwe Waterweg shipping canal. It was under the command of Lt. Commander John Younghusband.30 Rotterdam is about sixteen miles inland from The Hook. Aboard the ship were Commander J. A. C. Hill and a team of demolition experts. The British were concerned about the large fuel-storage areas located in Holland out of fear that they might fall into Nazis hands. Hill had earlier made a secret trip there to scope out such a plan. Now his orders were to implement it.31
At 6:31 P.M. Lt. Commander Younghusband received a message from London that read: “Dutch foreign minister states that there is a large amount of gold at Rotterdam. Estimated weight 36 tons. It is essential to get gold out tonight.” Local authorities said it was too dangerous for the Wild Swan to go to Rotterdam. Earlier that same day German Stukas had sunk the Dutch destroyer Van Galen on the Nieuwe Waterweg. The Wild Swan could attract too much enemy attention and suffer the same fate. After Hill and Younghusband huddled, they decided that Hill would go to Rotterdam on a smaller Dutch ship and pick up the gold. Younghusband would stay in the harbor on the Wild Swan and let out his mooring lines to twenty feet to make it difficult for any enemy to come aboard. Gunners also manned their stations.
Residents of the village of Maassluis near the Hook of Holland woke the morning of May 10 to the roar of German warplanes flying overhead. This was home to a fleet of small pilot boats whose job was to guide bigger ships into Rotterdam. The crew of Pilot Boat 19 was called to duty even though it was their day off. The ship was under the command of Sea Lieutenant IJsbrand Smit. While the captain and crew waited for an assignment, they watched German planes landing and disembarking soldiers. Finally at 8:15 P.M., Pilot Boat 19 departed from Hook of Holland. Destination: Rotterdam. Aboard the ship were Hill and his demolition party plus nineteen Dutch crew members.
It was not the ideal boat for the assignment because it had no degaussing equipment that would protect it from magnetic mines the Nazis had been dropping in the waterways. But this was a war, and Commander Hill had to take what was available. Pilot Boat 19 moved slowly through the chilly waters. The crew and the soldiers peered out into the dark looking for mines. At about midnight and long after the vessel had passed the area on its way to Rotterdam, a German Henkel 115 airplane dropped new mines in the Nieuwe Waterweg near Rozenburg Island, only about four miles from the Hook of Holland.32
Hill and his team arrived at the Lekhaven dock in Rotterdam at 10:30 P.M. It was not the closest one to the central bank office, but it would have been dangerous to try to get any nearer. Nazis now occupied the southern and eastern parts of town and were moving in on the rest. The Rotterdam branch of the Dutch National Bank was located only two hundred yards away from an area the Germans now controlled. Nazi troops had earlier attacked the facility, but Dutch machine gunfire had driven them back.
There were nearly 114 tons of gold still in the Rotterdam bank’s vaults, and the Dutch had hope that they would manage to get all of it out of the country. The immediate British task, though, was to get at least some on Pilot Boat 19. During the day of May 10, the bank staff had packed the gold into boxes, and they recruited Dutch marines to help move it. Officials requisitioned four trucks, which marines drove across narrow canal bridges to the bank’s back door, only a short distance away from the heart of the fighting. With just flashlights to guide them, the men went down into the unlit vaults and carried the heavy boxes through darkened halls to the waiting vehicles. Members of an infantry unit also helped with the loading. There still remained just over 102.8 tons in the bank, but that would have to be removed later. From positions on nearby bridges and in trees, German sharpshooters fired at anything that moved.
Dutch marines then drove the four vehicles toward Pilot Boat 19 at the Lekhaven dock. Slowly they made their way down dark back streets amid continued shooting. The Dutch had the advantage of knowing their way around Rotterdam’s winding streets and narrow bridges. A half hour later, the small caravan arrived at the boat. The marines unloaded the cargo, which took about two hours to complete. Members of the British demolition unit also helped. The work was tough and progressed slowly because each box weighed more than one hundred pounds, and the men worried about slipping on the narrow gangplank. They finally loaded eleven tons. The bullion was stored near the cabin. They could have taken more, but the captain was worried about the boat’s stability because the weight was mainly on the deck, rather than in the hold. Hill and the boat’s crew set out at 4:45 A.M. for the return trip to the Hook of Holland and the Wild Swan, some twenty miles away. There were no other ships on the waterway, so it was a tempting target.33
At 5:30 A.M., daylight had broken and Pilot Boat 19 was getting closer to The Hook. The ship had only about another ten miles to go. Just as it approached the city of Vlaardingen, a powerful explosion rocked the whole area. A Nazi magnetic mine that had been dropped into the water after Pilot Boat 19 had passed the area on its way to Rotterdam blasted the ship into two pieces. Large hunks of wood catapulted into the air, and just six of the twenty-two men on board survived the blast. Most of the crew had been in the ship’s sleeping area below deck. The mine struck the boat two-thirds from the bow, where the gold was stored. One of the survivors was projected across the canal and drowned because he didn’t know how to swim. Workers from a nearby factory rushed to help, but could do little. Willem Pottinga, a crewmember and one of the survivors, was below deck when the explosion occurred and swam to
safety dragging the body of a sailor he assumed was dead. He wanted the family to have a chance to bury the man. The person was actually alive, and a doctor resuscitated him. But the gold quickly sank to the bottom of the Nieuwe Waterweg.
At 7:45 A.M., Dutch military authorities informed Lt. Commander Younghusband on the Wild Swan that a magnetic mine had blown up Pilot Boat 19, killing most of those on board and all the British soldiers.34
On the evening of May 12, Queen Wilhelmina telephoned Britain’s George VI to ask if she could go into exile in his country. As his majesty quipped later, it’s not often that a king gets a phone call from a queen in the middle of the night asking for refuge. The destroyer HMS Hereward arrived on May 13 to take Wilhelmina to Britain. When she boarded, the always feisty queen said she wanted to go to Flushing in the southwestern part of the country, where fighting continued. The British captain said that was impossible, so her majesty left for Britain escorted by HMS Vesper. Churchill would later say that Wilhelmina was “the only real man among the governments-in-exile in London.” Her ship arrived that same day in Harwich, and she traveled from there by train to London. When she arrived at Liverpool Station, Wilhelmina walked proudly up to the king with a gas mask slung over her shoulder. King George VI greeted her with a kiss on both cheeks.35
Chasing Gold: The Incredible Story of How the Nazis Stole Europe's Bullion Page 24