From there everything goes fast. The doctor and his wife are prepared to take in the children for the time being. Punt commands that the children remain at the disposal of the SD at all times: provisional examination shows that both mothers have married Aryans, so it seems the children are not fully Jewish. If, however, they do turn out to be, they shall be collected and deported.
Robbie is almost five and suddenly realizes what is about to happen. He looks from the strange men to his mother, presses his fingers firmly in her flesh and is about to burst into tears. Janny kneels down and folds her hands around his face. She presses her nose against his, looks him straight in the eyes and whispers: ‘Don’t be afraid. I’ll come back, I promise. Daddy will come and pick you up, and then you tell Daddy I’ll come back to you. All right?’
His body is shaking and his eyes are wide, but Robbie nods slowly and lets his mother press a last kiss on his snotty lips. Janny gives him a little shove and the police officer takes him. Then she picks up Liselotte, still glowing with fever. Lien does the same with Kathinka. Both girls are almost three and they whimper softly, unable to understand what is going on but fully aware that something terrible is about to happen.
‘Be good, stay calm, all will be well,’ Lien whispers in Kathinka’s hair.
Janny presses Liselotte to her chest one more time and then the doctor takes the three children into the living room.
It is dead quiet when the front door has shut behind them. Janny and Lien walk down the path to the street, look back one more time. The three little ones appear in front of the window – they do not wave.
Then a push in their back and they are gone.
10
The Bullet
Indeed, the SD had not expected such a big catch; hardly any Jews are left in the country. One Jew, perhaps two, they thought, but – not counting the children – they found no less than eight: Janny, Lien, Jaap, Bram, Loes, Jetty, Simon, Puck. Plus the German deserter, the traitor. Even Moesbergen has not often made such a substantial discovery.
All of them, except for Bram and Loes, are imprisoned at Huizen police station. Punt instantly returns to The High Nest to help his colleagues Moesbergen and Krikke, who stayed behind, with the search. They are certain more people are hiding in the forest villa, with all its expertly built secret spaces. They demolish floors and panels, tear away carpets, shout profanities to chase any people left in hiding out of their shelters, and knock on walls with hammers.
But all remains deathly quiet, the stones of The High Nest do not speak. The men threaten to riddle the entire house with bullets, pretend to give up, pull the front door shut and sneak back inside, but: nothing. They are furious. There must be more of them. They have counted the mattresses in the rooms, the toothbrushes at the sinks.
In the meantime, the group of nine must be taken to the SD headquarters in Amsterdam for questioning. How, though? Since they were unprepared, no police vans are available in Naarden nor Huizen. The SD officers telephone around for vans to hire, but to no avail. Could they take the group on the train? Too risky. Eventually, they have to wait for one of their Amsterdam SD colleagues to drive down with a van and collect them.
Meanwhile, Janny has scribbled the number of Bob’s office on a piece of paper and waits for the right person to pass it on to. She knows from experience that there are good people at the Huizen police; officers who turn a blind eye at crucial moments, even pass on information to the local resistance and people in hiding. She slips the note into the hand of one of the officers who was with them all day. ‘Please call: do not come home!’ She says it between her teeth, barely audible. The officer clenches his fist around the paper and says nothing. Now, she must hope for the best.
It is already late afternoon when the SD van from Amsterdam arrives. They leave the police station and stop at The High Nest along the way to pick up Bram and Loes; the couple look ashen-faced and fragile. They don’t know what happened to them in the meantime, but the last four people – Joseph, Fietje, Willi and Rita – have, apparently, neither been discovered nor betrayed.
On the way to Amsterdam, all of them are quiet; they fear that each word they say might give one of the others away. Lien and Janny can barely look at each other, defeated after leaving the children, sick with worry about Father and Mother underneath their hatch.
As soon as they reach Amsterdam, they sit up. For everyone but Janny and Eberhard, it is their first time here in a very long while. They enter the city via Weesperzijde and drive towards the south, where the SD headquarters are. Amsterdam feels numb. No hustle and bustle, just very many soldiers and policemen on the streets. Even at the end of this bright summer day, when the inner city would normally explode with noise and activity, a cloud seems to hang above the people and the houses.
Cross the bridge and onwards across Amstellaan, they pass Rijnstraat, then the prominent building on Apollolaan – The Tower of Labour as they used to call it. A skeleton of steel with glass armour, the proud skyscraper of the Social Security Bank. Only a few years ago the sisters had watched with open mouths as the window cleaner dangled in his cradle; the very first one in the Netherlands. They thought it was dead scary, but the man had waved at them, cheerfully. Now, the Wehrmacht has graced the roof of the tower with searchlights and anti-aircraft guns. In The High Nest the occupation was mainly tangible, here it is visible.
And then: Euterpestraat, the old school building.
‘Get out!’
From the bus via the main hall to a dark basement. Narrow wooden bunk beds against the wall. The door slams shut as they stand pressed together, lined up as if this were a post office. Damp darkness, a single light bulb at the ceiling. They sit down on the cold floor by touch, feel the presence of other people in the room. No one speaks.
That evening, a police van takes them to a slightly more modern building on Marnixstraat. After a restless, anxious night, they are brought back to the Euterpestraat basement in the morning. The interrogation bunker.
Together, they have discussed several escape options, but the SS guards never leave their side. They are taken out of the basement one by one. SS-Sturmbannführer Willi Lages, the German head of the SD in the North Holland region, is an experienced torturer and has been involved in several executions. Promises, blackmail, profanities; he pulls out all the stops, but they all keep their mouths shut. He threatens to pick up the children to get them talking; Janny and Lien fear they may not remain silent when he does. Lien is terrified they will find out she and Eberhard are not at all married, which officially makes Kathinka fully Jewish and eligible for deportation.
When they return to the Marnixstraat station that night, Bram and Loes Teixeira de Mattos have been taken away, sent to Westerbork camp. In low spirits, Janny and Lien walk through the corridors towards the cells, and then cannot believe their eyes: Joseph and Fietje are standing at the end of the hallway. Old, fragile. A hand briefly touching an arm, eyes meeting just long enough to catch the despondent looks. Father has protectively wrapped his arm around Mother, knowing full well that it will not be enough.
‘We have held out as long as we could,’ Joseph whispers apologetically. He lowers his eyes. ‘They have discovered the others too. And Eberhard’s documents.’
They must walk on, to the cell. Lien staggers, tries to find Janny’s eyes: it’s all over now.
As soon as they had moved into The High Nest, Eberhard had buried his German papers, including his original identity card, in a chest made of lead at the back of the garden. After D-Day, all optimistic, they had dug up the box to see what state the papers were in. They were wet and warped. In one of the bedrooms was an out-of-use fireplace; Eberhard had put the papers out to dry in there. He had intended to wrap them up better, bury them again, later. Now, they know who he really is. Jean-Jacques Bos stood a chance. Eberhard Rebling will hang.
Meanwhile, everyone at the SD headquarters is thrilled with the catch: sixteen stowaways, including two children. Those will be left in peace
for now; Mischlinge do not have to go on transport. The third child is a different story. Because they found the German’s papers, they now know he never married the Jewish woman; their daughter is fully Jewish.
Moesbergen is pleased with the news and commands Doctor Van den Berg to deliver the child in person at the SD office in Amsterdam as soon as possible.
All the adults, except Janny, Lien and Eberhard, are taken to the House of Detention at Weteringschans on day three. A few months earlier, their friend Gerrit van der Veen, Mik’s companion at The Free Artist, committed an assault on this same prison in an attempt to free other resistance fighters. The assault on the Amsterdam register in March 1943 had only been partly successful, but that did not stop Gerrit from trying the lion’s den again. He stormed Weteringschans in May 1944, was shot in the back but escaped.
A few weeks later he was arrested, after all, and was executed in the dunes near Haarlem in June. The Brilleslijpers and their residents are unaware of this news. At the time they are imprisoned at Weteringschans – two out of three founders of The Free Artist are dead: Mik van Gilse and Gerrit van der Veen. The third partner, composer Jan van Gilse, Mik’s father, already in poor health, succumbs a few months later. The light of The Free Artist, standard-bearer of the artists’ resistance, has gone out for good.
Lien and Eberhard spend the night of 12 July with just the two of them in one cell. It is their last night together. They hold each other in silence, prepare for their farewell, think of Kathinka without speaking her name.
‘If we survive, we will meet at Mieke and Haakon’s on Johannes Verhulststraat, all right?’
Eberhard looks at Lien questioningly and she nods. Those are the only words that count, although they describe a highly unlikely scenario. As Lien cries, Eberhard cradles her in his arms. Janny has given her a Luminal, a sedative that can knock down a horse. Lien breaks the pill in two and gives one half to Eberhard so he can get some sleep. He has to be fit to endure the questioning the next day. They sleep as if anaesthetized and the next morning, Thursday, 13 July, they are separated.
Shortly after, everyone but Eberhard and Janny are put on the train to Westerbork: Joseph, Fietje, Lien and Jaap. The girls, Puck and Jetty. Simon. Bram and Loes. Their daughter, Rita, and their son-in-law, Willi. They are no longer required.
From now on the SD focuses on the German deserter and the Jewish resistance woman. Together, they have done pretty much everything the Aryan bible forbids and the only question is: who must fall first?
The Dutch officers of the Marnixstraat police station, however, are good to them, even seem to pity their fate, and Janny takes the chance: perhaps can they purchase their freedom? The officers say they would help if they could, but it simply is not possible. The SS are everywhere – they trust no one and are keeping a close watch on them too.
The pattern remains the same: they sleep at Marnixstraat and are questioned at the SD headquarters at Euterpestraat. There, Sturmbannführer Willi Lages interrogates them in turns. He is on good form, this tall man with his egg-shaped skull, thin lips and pointed nose that seems permanently pinched. Janny cannot bear looking at his face; his features are too sharp. She is beaten to get Eberhard talking. Eberhard is beaten to get Janny talking. Both remain silent and are laughed at by Lages.
‘Your fate is sealed anyway,’ he sneers at Eberhard. ‘Death penalty for Fahnenflucht, Landesverrat, Sabotage und Rassenschande!’
He spits the last word in his face with disgust: race defilement. A child with a Jewish woman – his fellow countryman could not have fallen any lower.
‘You will appear in front of the military court tomorrow and then you are finished.’
One last night Janny and Eberhard stay at Marnixstraat police station, knowing that execution awaits him the next day. Janny tosses and turns, worries all night, feverishly trying to come up with a way to save Eberhard from the bullet, but her mind is blank. When at last she falls asleep, she dreams of tumbling backwards into a deep well, her fingers failing to find a hold, not yet reaching the bottom when the guards collect her from her cell in the early morning of 14 July.
When they take her behind Eberhard to the police van waiting outside, Janny’s head almost bursts with a migraine. The morning sun climbing a cloudless sky is already burning brighter than her eyes can bear. The doors at the back of the van are wide open; they see wooden bench seats on either side. The officers push them inside the vehicle, where an older detainee is already waiting, staring at the caps of his shoes. Two policemen in civilian clothes take their place beside them and shut the doors; the windows are opened to let in fresh air. Eberhard, Janny and one officer on one bench, the other detainee and the second officer opposite them on the other. When the van starts to move, all five of them turn their face to the windows at the back, staring at the Amsterdam streets they are leaving behind.
Oddly enough, they are driving north. The SD headquarters at Euterpestraat are in the south part of the city. Haarlemmerstraat. Janny and Eberhard exchange a brief glance. Spaarndammerstraat.
‘Where are we going?’ Janny asks. She hears her voice somewhere in the tin space, as if it is not her own.
‘Amsterdam-North. We have to collect someone else first,’ one of the officers responds.
They drive on in silence. Black spots dance before Janny’s eyes; her head is pounding against her temples but she does not want to close her eyes. She wants to see her city, because she does not know when she will be back. If she will ever be back.
The car stops. Spaarndammerdijk police station. The officer next to Janny gets out – ‘Be right back’ – and slams the door shut behind him. Janny blinks, one time, ten times, to chase away the spots. Eberhard turns towards her, tries to meet her gaze, looks at the door handle next to her. Would she . . . ? Then Janny leans forwards, close to the face of the officer opposite her. There is a gun in his lap. She starts to talk to him with a velvety voice.
Eberhard sees what she is doing – he has to act, now. But he freezes. Suddenly, Janny throws herself into the arms of the guard. ‘Out!’ she cries. Eberhard flings himself behind her back, through the window, out of the van. A hand gropes for his ankle, tugs at the tail of his raincoat, the fabric rips, Eberhard transfers his weight forwards and runs across the pavement, away from the van, his coat flapping behind him.
The officer has roughly pushed Janny from his lap and is on the street, firing his gun in the air – ‘Stop!’ – but Eberhard is already too far. Noise everywhere, people gathering around them. Janny gets out and sees Eberhard dissolve into the city. The pounding in her head is gone; she suddenly feels as light as a balloon blowing over the heath. Then everything turns black and she collapses on the paving stones.
Janny is unconscious when they carry her into the police station. She comes to, passes out again, comes to, passes out, but always that tingling sense of triumph: Eberhard has got away.
In the first instance the Dutch officers take her under their wing, but then the Germans come and fetch her. They load her into the van, back to the SD headquarters at Euterpestraat. They are all livid. With her, with each other, with the German deserter. And then, SS-Sturmbannführer Willi Lages appears.
They start in the elevator to the basement. They thrash her, beat and kick her everywhere. When she has gone down, Willi Lages puts his full weight on her legs; others hit her through the bars of the elevator with anything they can get their hands on. Lages just continues relentlessly – he has a whip; there are fists, clubs. They throw her into a closet or a cellar, a pitch-black space. Janny cannot see a thing, not a crack of light – the darkness is suffocating.
Out of consciousness, awake – a minute has passed, or an hour. The pain, the dark. Footsteps above her head, stabbing pain in her entire body. She feels for the walls with her fingers, calls for help, falls back into a deep sleep. Now and then she comes to, hears people walk, far away, and cries with pain until she loses her voice; no one comes.
In the night all is quiet.
A day passes and the door finally opens. Willi Lages is in the doorway, legs wide apart.
‘We’ll get you. You’ll meet the firing squad.’
Light softly shines around his silhouette on her legs – one bloody mass. Janny carefully touches her skin: there are wounds everywhere, and her body is bruised, head to toe. Then she glances up at Lages and looks him straight in the face. The tiniest sparkle in her eyes, a sense of triumph dispelling the pain. She is certain that she’ll be shot now, but to her surprise she is cuffed and taken to the prison at Amstelveenseweg.
Stumbling and exhausted, Janny is taken to a cell, her handcuffs are removed and the door closes behind her. A cell for two, peopled by six. She receives a warm welcome; voices are asking what has happened to her. There is tapping on bars and heating pipes all around to report on the new arrival. Other prisoners help her, gently clean and look after her wounds, and within a few hours a bundle of clean laundry arrives via another cell, especially for Janny. A clean pillowcase, such luxury. There is a note inside. She opens it, makes her eyes move across the letters: ‘Eberhard is safe and so are the children. Bob.’ A cry escapes her throat; her eyes well up. She covers her mouth with her hand; her shoulders are shaking. She doesn’t want to cry, but these are tears of joy.
They share the two-person cell at the House of Detention II at Amstelveenseweg with six, sometimes eight people. In the first days, Janny is terrified Willi Lages’ face will reappear behind the cell door and she will be taken to the firing squad. But nothing happens. Apparently, nobody talked; they suspect a lot about her resistance work but they know nothing.
But the betrayal is gnawing at her. Who knew about The High Nest? She spends hours going over the names in her mind; the residents, resistance people, people in hiding, contacts, shopkeepers where they got their supplies, passers-by on the heath, police officers, Dutch Nazis, chance meetings, old friends who were taken away.
The Sisters of Auschwitz Page 19