Third of September 1942
By David Verveer
Introduction
Even though, I spend approximately 3 years of my life in hiding from the Nazis, I never wanted nor could talk about this time. The reason for this, I presume that I did not want to think about the subject, and by keeping quiet about it, I removed the emotional distress, until I passed the age of 60, my children and specially my grand children never heard from me anything about the Holocaust, and all conversations and questions on the subject, I answered that I had been lucky that I survived, mainly because good Gentiles who risked their life to safe me.
Being a grand-dad brings the responsibility in telling your grand children the truth about the past, even when the subject is very difficult emotionally, and when I was asked to prepare my personal history, to be included in my grandson's "My family" album, I sat down and started to discover my own past, mostly by research, with the help of the last family of Dutch people which hid me during the last one and half years of the War. But, not realizing that this research would be relatively traumatic, and even a type of obsession. What bothers me is not the suffering and fright connected to this period, but the realization that humans could behave in such manner, both on the positive and negative aspects.
But I realize that I have to stop writing about it, as I do not want to become a slave of the Holocaust emotions, as I still want to enjoy the remainder of my life. Another reason for stopping, when my 2nd grandson did not want to invite me to speak to his school class, claiming; "Gramps only talks about the Holocaust, and now we need somebody to talk about the history of
But before that, there are two subjects which I promised myself to complete, the first is an autobiography on my parents, and the second, this essay, relating most likely, the most traumatic period of my life, when we fled from our normative life in rural Holland, into hiding from the Nazis, an event which surely influenced my life the most, and I can not remember, as I was only 3 years and one day old.
After having written these two essays, I will go back into being a sarcastic commentator reacting to everything which is happening today.
I personally hate reading Holocaust stories, not only because I don't see the sense in repeating time over time, the terrible things that happened during that period, but also because Holocaust stories sound extremely exaggerated, with stories of the hero (the persecuted Jew in the story) against the villain (the Gentiles, some bad and some good), and what I can not find in most stories, is that people continued living, even when the situation was impossible, normal things happened, sometimes funny, sometimes dramatic, nothing special to write about, but still, it was living. A positive example is the diary of Anna Frank, who wrote what she saw, as a teenager.
There is nobody with whom I can verify my story, as my parents were wise to wipe out all traces which lead to the departure on the 3rd of September 1942, but based on background data and trying to understand the emotional state of my parents mind, (and as result also my own), I hereby tell the story of what happened in those days to my family. Again, I try very much not to make it too emotional; I am not trying to get the readers pity, especially as this doesn't help anybody, but on the other hand, how is it possible that all this happened?
Our family
Our family of 6 souls lived in a small village, in the vicinity of Utrecht (central Holland), we had moved to there as in those years, it was very difficult in finding in the large towns (such as the Hague) work for a young architect / construction engineer, willing to do any building task, in order to feed the family. Even though, it was already in an occupied country, and being Jews did not make it easier, we managed to survive on the odd jobs of my dad. We were 4 children, with in 1942, my oldest brother nearly 8 years old, my second brother 6 years, and my kid sister, born in the beginning of the war, one year old. I was the third child, 3 years old, and just started talking, not very comprehensive, but very noisy.
My parents, after they had spend several years in Palestine, had returned to Holland in 1937, on dramatic pleas from family and friends, to return to Holland, as a war was pending which would surely involve Palestine, and Holland would remain neutral, like in the first Word War. German had signed a treaty with
We lived in a relative large house, (rented of course), with a large garden, where my mother cultivated potatoes and vegetables for home consumption, I presume they had also some chickens, but I am not sure about it. My mother told me that one day I wanted to help my father in the garden, and asked him if I could help with weeding, he did not understand my question, and in order to stop my nonstop talking, said yes, which resulted in my pulling out some of the tomato plants.
My oldest brother went to school in the village, until the time the Germans banned the Jewish children from public schools, my second brother started the first class, but did not finish the school year, for the same reason. Of course, I was too small for nursery (in those days) and my sister was still a baby. We were the only Jews in the village, and considered a harmless curiosity. Jews did mostly live in large towns, still generally involved in trading, shop keeping and business, and that time for Jews, living outside the towns was rather unheard of.
The assimilation of the Jews in Holland was relatively recent, my mother's parents were still very religious people, (shop keepers) living nearby the synagogue, with Yiddish as second language, but on my father's side, his grandfather already spoke Dutch as main language, and his father (my grandfather) was a professional master carpenter (not a very Jewish profession). My father was of the first generation of academics, studying building construction and architecture. The rate of practicing religion went together with education and assimilation. And, as so far I could discover, my father was a free-thinker, but that of course made no difference to the Germans.
Even though, difficult times, in early 1942, we were still a very normative functioning family, but clouds could be seen in the horizon, which eventually burst on us in September 1942.
The historical back-ground
On the night of 9-10 April 1940, German troops over run the
A German civil administration was installed under SS supervision. At its head was Seyss Inquart.
Soon many laws were enacted against the Dutch Jews, such as in July 1940 abolishing the religious slaughter, Businesses run by Jews had to be registered, following a degree that all businesses where Jews had financial interests. Then the Jews were banned from working for the Government, teaching at Universities, studying in Universities. Then came the decree that all Jews had to register (a Jew is somebody with two or more Jewish grandparents).
Than in 1941 Jewish were barred to be at public places, followed by a curfew from 8.00 pm to 6.00 a.m., and shopping was permitted between 3.00 pm and 5.00 pm..
For transportation Jews needed special permits. Universities, markets, museum and libraries, etc. were of limit. Jewish assets were blocked, including bank deposits, cash, claims, securities and valuables. A maximum of 250 guilder a month was available to a Jewish owner for private use, finally, with effect from 3 May 1942, every Jew aged 6 and over was ordered to wear a yellow star on their left breast, with the word "JOOD" inscribed on it in black ink. In July 1942, the letter J was added to the Jewish identity cards. 389 Jews were arrested after clashing with the SS, which caused a general strike by the Dutch, which lasted only 2 days, however became very costly to both the Dutch and the Jews. The Dutch were fined huge sums of money, levied through the large towns, but the Germans realized that the Dutch did not support them in their anti-Semitic plans, decided to adopt a more radical solution towards the Jewish population.
The adviser on Jewish Affairs in
Eichman and his people from the "zentralstelle" started to organize the cleansing of
Most members of my mother's family believed the Germans and went to the camps, of which only one person returned after the war, my uncle Saam, my mother's oldest brother. From the 107.000 Dutch Jews deported to the camps 102.000 were slaughtered.
The transfer of Jews from
The German issued warning to the Dutch who assisted Jews to flee from the Germans, with death threats and severe punishment.
The civil administration became in the hands of the NSB (German sympathizers) and collaborators (mostly frightened for their own life.
1942, in the
From the above, it is clear that the situation of our family became extremely complicated and dangerous. People, who before had been pleasant neighbors and even friendly started to severe the association with us and refusing to allow their children to play with us. My parents, realists understood that something had to be done, that we could not stay there, started to find out if the resistance (my father had several friends in the local group) could help us to find a safe place to hide. From the beginning, it was clear that with the travel restrictions, and presence of SS and NSB everywhere, we could not stay united as one group, this would have been disastrous, the moment we would leave the house. The resistance promised to help us, provided we would break up as family cell, and let me remind you, we children were 1, 3, 6 and 8 years old.
They must have planned this terrible day of flight several weeks ahead, but how do you plan sending children from their normative home, with a chance they will not survive it, how do you tell them, what should you pack for them, but mostly, how can you prevent hysterical outbursts from young children, never been separated from their family. I don't comprehend the courage of my parents, and their wisdom, because anything else would surely have killed us.
The day before our departure, my birthday (3) was celebrated, our last fling as family. Photos were taken, which surprisingly survived the war, I have no idea who kept them, they would have disastrous if ever found by the Germans, as my father was wearing the star, and in any case, we did not look very Aryan.
I had never the courage asking my mother about that day, until it was too late, and she passed away.
Thinking about my family, I don't think I could have done it, but they did, an we survived (besides my father, who was shot in October 1944 by the Germans, after he was caught red handed on a spy mission for the Allies)..
I suppose we were told that we go on vacation, on that day in September, when we were collected, some on bicycle, some by feet. Each person separately, accompanied by courageous Dutchmen from the resistance, taking us to our first and after that many other hiding places, with families who risked their own life, in order to safeguard ours. Our luggage was small, in order not to attract attention. We were told not to talk, but how can you shut up normal healthy kids?
True, there were many bad seed between the Dutch, during those war days, but I am a personal exhibit, that also good people existed.
What I still don't comprehend is why they hated us so much? What did we do to them to create so much hatred? On the other hand, the kind people deciding if people like us are eligible for a pension, we are required to proof to them, that we are mentally (traumatically) disturbed. We proved the opposite (in their opinion) by creating a normal life and family. I am not an expert in minds, especially not my own, but "Kol Hakavod" (all honors) to us, that we had sufficient mental defenses to survive more or less normal, if normal as condition exists.
A last note, I wished that I could have illustrated this traumatic date, but sorry, I forgot because I was only three years and one day old.
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