The German Invasion
May 10, 1940, was a day of infamy in Holland. The German army invaded without provocation because Holland had declared its neutrality in the event of a war in Europe. The official start of the war on September 3, 1939, had not affected us in Gennep. However, some trenches were dug around the school, and we had air raid drills in case of an attack.
The dawn of May 10 brought a beautiful, bright sunny morning, a typical Dutch spring morning. The day before I had done all my homework for school and had spent the evening playing with friends. But then I had woken up at night and heard some noise like airplanes in the sky. I did not pay much attention to this, almost immediately going back to sleep. The rays of the sun woke me up. I heard some strange and loud noises coming from the sky and also the street below. The sky was full of airplanes and some of them were flying quite low. I could see the German markings, including the swastika. I looked down from my second-floor bedroom to the cobblestone street running through the little town. German soldiers in full battle dress, helmets, rifles, and gas masks stood there with several tanks and trucks. Downstairs, I heard my aunt speaking German, and I heard a male voice answering, but it did not sound like my uncle. My sister and cousins were in the living room, looking out the window at the German army. I went to the kitchen and saw my aunt talking to a German soldier who was sitting at the kitchen table waiting for her to brew him some coffee. My uncle, however, was nowhere to be seen. Apparently this German soldier had knocked on our door early in the morning and asked to come in for a cup of coffee, as if this was the normal thing to do. Oddly, he had brought his own coffee to brew and refused to let my aunt take coffee from our pantry. He asked my aunt, ‘How come you speak such flawless German?’ She told him that she was originally from Germany but had come to Holland because she was Jewish, and it had become increasingly difficult for Jews to live in Germany. He said that was very true, but that he had no problem with the fact that she was Jewish and we should not be afraid—the German army would not harm us. Then he turned around and asked me my age. I told him, ‘Eight years old.’ He told me that he had a son my age. After this he explained that he was part of a motorcycle unit parked across the road. He asked me to look out of the window and let him know when his unit started to move. Even though this German soldier was very polite and civilized, I was hoping that his unit would move soon because I did not like him in the house. Because of Kristallnacht, I sensed things would be bad for us Jews now that the Germans had invaded Holland. A short while later, when the soldier had to leave, he said, ‘Goodbye and good luck.’ I have often wondered at his politeness, going as far as bringing his own coffee and wishing us well. My experience with German soldiers, with few exceptions, would be that, at best, they did not care, but usually they would be very brutal and uncivilized. For a child, these experiences were confusing; I was never sure what to expect from my encounters with German soldiers.
Gennep was under German control almost immediately. Because the Netherlands was supposed to be a neutral country, it had only a small army, and after five days the army surrendered. Rotterdam had been bombed, with many civilian casualties, as a warning not to resist the invaders. At the Grebbe Line, a defensive line to protect the major northern cities, there had been heavy casualties on both sides. The Dutch government and the Queen fled to England after the commander-in-chief of the Dutch army warned them that he could no longer protect them, leaving instructions to government employees and the civil service who remained to cooperate with the Germans in order to make life easier for the local population. In Gennep, Dutch soldiers were surprised by the sudden and ferocious onslaught of the German Army. Many left their posts and, in order not to be captured and to fight again another day, took off their uniforms and put on civilian clothing borrowed from the local population. I remember seeing young men in ill-fitting street clothing standing around and staring helplessly at the German invaders. The Germans laughed at them when they saw them because they did look very strange; I have often wondered whether they suspected that these young men had been Dutch soldiers.
My own uncle had disappeared during the night. He went into hiding the day of the invasion because he knew that the Gestapo, the Nazi secret police, would be looking for him because he had been on their ‘most wanted’ list before he fled Germany. Sure enough, just three days after the invasion, there was a different kind of knock on the door. It was the Gestapo looking for my uncle. They searched the house for him. When they could not find him, they took my aunt with them to question her at Gestapo headquarters. My uncle managed to survive by always being a few steps ahead of the Gestapo and changing hiding places many times. My aunt was released by the Gestapo after they had beaten her, and once they realized that she really did not know where my uncle was.
On June 6, 1940, my grandfather, Louis Spiegel, who had been living with us, suddenly died. I remember being very upset and going to the funeral at the small Jewish cemetery. I had to say Kaddish, the Jewish prayer for the dead; I was the only male relative at the funeral, for Uncle Adolf had already gone into hiding to avoid capture by the Gestapo. I had difficulty saying the prayer because I was crying so much. Then my cousin Alice, eleven years old at the time, was sick again, only this time it seemed even more serious.
The Soldiers’ Song
More than sixty years after the invasion, I can still hear the German soldiers sing their songs. The invasion and conquest of the Netherlands had been easy, relatively bloodless—all over in five days. The German soldiers were happy and content, hoping and dreaming that the war would soon be over and they could go home. Those first few weeks after the invasion, thousands of German soldiers were stationed in or near Gennep. I was eight years old, and to me, it seemed that the whole German army was encamped in and around Gennep. It was late spring and the days were long. We could hear them sing, especially in the evening when it was quiet. Of course, they sang in German, which I understood well. Somehow I remember part of one song, because it was always sung a lot towards the end of the evening: ‘Lebe wohl mein Schatz, lebe wohl, lebe wohl, denn wir fahren gegen Engeland.’ ‘Be well my sweetheart, be well, be well, because we will be marching against England.’ This would be repeated several times with much enthusiasm. As young kids do, we would approach the nearest encampment and watch and listen to the soldiers singing. Usually one of the soldiers would get up and give each of us a piece of chocolate or a candy.
Those first few weeks were like a honeymoon. The German occupiers treated the Dutch as ‘favorite cousins.’ Once England surrendered they thought everything would be fine and soon the war would be over. Life seemed almost normal except for the German troops, and even the Jews, especially the Dutch Jews, thought maybe our fears were exaggerated. I even remember one evening going with some friends to a German encampment, and while one of the soldiers was giving us some candy, one of the kids pointed at me and said, ‘You know he's a Jew. Don't give him any candy.’ The German soldier answered, ‘Mind your own business,’ and gave me an extra piece of candy.
After a few weeks, most of the soldiers left, not to march against England as their favorite song went, but to march east, to prepare to attack the Soviet Union. We did not know this at the time. Other things also changed; the ‘honeymoon’ was over very quickly, especially for us Jews. I was very unhappy about the German invasion, and despite my curiosity, I did not like seeing all those German soldiers. Yet, despite all the traumas I suffered in the years to come, I often wondered what happened to them, so happy at that time. How many, if any, survived the war? It is difficult to understand that many later took part in the atrocities committed against not only the Jews but also the general population of Europe controlled by the Germans.
After the German invasion in May, and my grandfather's death in June, and also because my Aunt Martha and cousin Margot were very busy trying to take care of my cousin Alice, my sister and I were sent to our Uncle Max and Aunt Paula in Dinxperlo in the middle of June 1940. Alice died in Ju
ly of 1940, just a few months before her twelfth birthday. After Alice’s death, my uncle arranged for Aunt Martha and Margot to go into hiding.
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Meanwhile, the Germans continued to add new anti-Jewish laws. Everybody in the Netherlands had to have an identity card, but ours had a big 'J’ for Jood, or Jew, stamped on it. We could no longer shop in non-Jewish stores. Two houses down the road from us was the village bakery, where we had previously bought bread and rolls. Now, we had to do this surreptitiously through the back door early in the morning. In addition, we were not allowed to use public transportation except by special permit, we had to surrender our bicycles, we could no longer go to the cinema, and on park benches there were signs—'Jews and dogs not allowed.’ Then on May 3, 1942, we had to start wearing the Jewish star, the six-pointed yellow star with the word ‘Jood’ (Jew) written on it. Jews could no longer go to the same school as non-Jews. Jewish teachers had been expelled before that because they did not want Jewish teachers to teach non-Jews. Dinxperlo had a small Jewish community with a synagogue, but it was too small to support a Jewish school. Therefore, we had to go to the nearby town Doetinchem, where a Jewish school was established for the town and the neighboring villages.
The Prins Family
When I was still traveling by bus to Doetinchem to the Jewish school, I had a strange and terrible experience on one of those trips in the early fall of 1942. I have never forgotten this bus ride.
On this particular morning, I arrived at the bus station and got on the bus. There sitting in the back of the bus was Mr. Prins, his wife, Bertha, and their three children, Philip, Caroline, and Jannie, each one sitting next to a policeman. Apparently at dawn the Gestapo and the local police had raided Villa Pol, where the Prins family lived. They had to leave their home immediately; they were not allowed to take anything with them or even to wash and dress properly. The police then decided to take them by local bus to Doetinchem. The ride was at least an hour because there were many stops and the bus went very slowly. I managed to sit in the seat just in front of Jannie. I knew the Prins family well because Villa Pol was opposite my uncle’s house. I was friendly with Jannie, a few years older than I. I remember talking to her all the way to Doetinchem, and she kept reassuring me that all this was just a big mistake and that she and her family would be back soon once everything was straightened out. The policeman sitting next to her never said a word, but Jannie complained that she had not even been able to wash her face and put some makeup on. Upon arrival in Doetinchem they got off the bus after us, and I watched them slowly walk away towards the police station. I did say goodbye to Jannie and that I hoped to see her that evening or the next day back in Dinxperlo. But I never saw them again. A few days later some of their workers came to the Villa Pol to pack some clothes for the family, who by then were in Westerbork.
In contrast, on this same day, the family of Leopold Prins, a cousin of Mr. Prins, who also lived in Dinxperlo, was picked up and put in a truck. Then they were taken across the border into Germany to be interrogated before being sent to Westerbork and then later to Auschwitz. Apparently they had been planning to go into hiding but somebody in the village whom they trusted had betrayed them.
The events of that day will always remain with me, especially the memory of sitting on the seat in front of Jannie; she was trying to reassure me and probably herself that everything would be fine and that I could come and see her at home that evening or the next day. For over fifty years, I have wondered whether my memory of this event was correct, whether this incident really happened this way. Usually the police would come to Jewish houses or apartments and take them by trucks to an assembly point, and when they had a big enough transport, would send them by train, usually to Westerbork. So it is still a mystery to me what happened that day, why the Prins family had to endure this special kind of torture, to travel on a regularly scheduled bus full of regular passengers to their doom.
Jannie, her sister, Caroline, and their mother, Bertha, were killed in Auschwitz on October 26, 1942. Mr. Prins died in Neukirch on June 30, 1943. His son Philip died in Ludwigsdorf on January 1, 1944.
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In April 1943, a new law went into effect that the provinces of the Netherlands had to be ‘judenrein.’[*] Except for those few who managed to go into hiding, most of the Jewish population of Dinxperlo was sent to the slave labor/concentration camp Vught in the south of the Netherlands. From Vught, nearly everybody was sent to Westerbork and then on to the various concentration and death camps. Of those, only four survived. The Dinxperlo synagogue was destroyed during a bombardment, and no Jews live there today. A congregation of fifty to sixty members disappeared.
On April 10, 1943, Edith and I were forced to leave Dinxperlo. Together with my Uncle Max's family, we were sent to Vught. We were picked up early in the morning and taken by truck to the railroad station in Nijmegen. From there, we went the rest of the way to Vught by train. When we left Dinxperlo for Vught, most of the rest of the population of the village stood there and watched. Many of them were ‘bystanders.’ Although a few by then were active in the resistance, they could have done very little to help us, except to hide us, which would have been too dangerous.
My sister was almost happy to leave the constant Allied bombardments. She had no idea what lay ahead.
The Missed Transport
We had arrived in Westerbork late Monday afternoon after about a six-hour train ride, and we were immediately separated, my cousin and I in one huge barrack, my sister elsewhere, and my uncle and aunt also in different barracks. Most people in our barrack had arrived together with us. Yet our first night in Westerbork was uncomfortable. Nobody was able to sleep much that night. The barracks were huge, noisy, and very crowded; each barrack held about 500 to 1,000 people. Bunks were stacked three high. Very early in the morning, the barrack leader started to read out the names of the people to be put on the train that day. As my name and my cousin Alfred's name was called, we walked towards the train, carrying the few belongings we were allowed to take with us. It was dawn and the walk to the train was very scary. Nearly everybody was crying, especially the little children. The people not going on that train were under total curfew and could neither leave their barracks nor look out of the few windows. The only people we saw were the German SS guards with their dogs, Dutch policemen, and the Jewish camp police, or Ordnungsdienst (OD). I saw nobody I knew, nor anyone from my family, except Alfred. When the OD started to push us on the train, I panicked. Everything was so crowded. Some people cried, but most went quietly onto the train. I screamed loudly, ‘I don't want to go onto this train!’ When Alfred heard me screaming, he also started to scream. This caught the attention of an SS guard who asked a Dutch policeman what the screaming was all about. He apparently answered, ‘I think the children are afraid and do not want to go on the train.’ The SS guard then immediately gave the order to take my cousin and me off that train. The same OD, who had been pushing us on, took us off, and we were put in a small room isolated from everybody else until after the train departed—without us.
I did not realize at the time that I had narrowly escaped death. As I found out years later, this was very unusual. There was always commotion when these trains left because nobody wanted to be crammed on the trains going to an unknown destination eastward. However, it was indeed a rare occasion when a German guard ordered a Jew to be taken off a train destined for the gas chambers. The Germans preferred that the Jews went quietly and orderly. Apparently my screaming did not fit in with their plans.
Years later, I also found out that nearly everybody who had arrived from Vught the day before was on this train and sent to the death camp Sobibor in Poland. There were no survivors. Between March and August 1943, about 35,000 Jews were transported from Westerbork to Sobibor. Only nineteen people are known to have survived.
Uncle Max and Aunt Paula had not been aware that we were almost deported. Immediately upon arrival in Westerbork, Uncle Max had applied for an exemption, not
to be sent on one of those trains east. He had been a soldier in the German army in World War I, and for this, for the time being, he had received an exemption. He thought this would keep all of us safe from being deported. However, he soon realized, especially after what nearly happened to us, that his deferment would not apply to my sister and me because we were not his children. He felt it was his responsibility to try and save us. My uncle consulted with Kurt Schlesinger, the head of the Jewish council. Schlesinger suggested that my uncle put us on the so-called Weinreb deferment list. For a large amount of money paid to Weinreb, a German Jew living in the Netherlands, people were put on a special list of people who would not be put on those transports east. My uncle was ready to do this, even though it meant that it would cost him almost all the money he still had hidden with non-Jewish friends.
Weinreb had been highly recommended because he was able to pay off the Nazis to save himself, his family, and other people who were willing to pay. My uncle decided to go ahead, but somehow, at the last moment, changed his mind. He then decided to go and see the German SS Camp Kommandant, Albert Gemmeker, even though everybody, including Kurt Schlesinger, strongly advised him against it, as this was considered very dangerous and might cost him his life. But he saw Gemmeker and tried to convince him that my sister and I were British citizens and as proof he brought with him the Red Cross letters we had received from my mother who was living in England at that time. We were foreign nationals. I was never quite sure what transpired, whether we now had deferments as British citizens or if we were still on the Weinreb list.
A Train Near Magdeburg Page 13
