A Glider Pilot's Story - continued (12)

CHAPTER 12

We were beside ourselves with simmering excitement and expectation. After all the dreary weeks the sunshine had arrived. Scarcely able to believe what we had seen and heard in the previous half hour Phil and I talked over what we had just gathered from Jan Ringleberg. Partly I think to reassure ourselves that we hadn't been dreaming and also we compared notes to be certain that we had each understood fully what our visitor had told us. Had he really said the British were coming to take us off ? Well, not specifically for us but to take off some Dutchmen whose papers weren't in order.

We couldn't get over the way that this character had breezed up to the barn and hammered on the door calling our names. He had been so cheerful and confident as befits the bearer of good tidings. In recent weeks our spirits had been raised on numerous occasions as when Jan had come to Nieuwerkerk to tell us that the Marechaussee were coming and at those times when Jan and Adriaan had brought food for us. The friendship of Jan and his mother had maintained our morale at a very high level but this latest Jan and his news had lifted us to cloud nine.

As darkness fell we became calmer. We decided to have another look at the boat which we knew was in Jan's barn. We crossed the field and went to the barn. There in one of the stalls stood the boat which Jan had shown us before he left. After our capsize with the two Germans, Phil and I were far from happy with the idea of trusting ourselves again in a craft with such a shallow freeboard and flat bottom. We decided to go to Nieuwerkerk without it and hope that Herman had something more suitable. We set off to wade along the road in the direction of Nieuwerkerk. It had been some weeks earlier when we had last made such a trip. Somehow it didn't seem to matter that it was cold and windy and we were going to be soaked above as well as below the waist.

As we reached the village and the road began to leave the water, two dark figures detached themselves from the back of the hotel and a voice in English whispered "Sarge?" We were reunited with Herman. We shook hands warmly with each other and with his companion who was introduced to us - Jan Schoenmaker.

After these introductions were completed and our delight at seeing Herman once more had subsided he asked us if we had a boat. We replied that we thought he would have one but that we knew where there was one. We also gave our opinion that it was scarcely suitable for four. Herman and Jan said that it would have to do and so we set out once again for the Grote Hoofstede.

This time the water through which we waded felt much colder. Maybe it was psychological but Herman and his companion were better equipped for wading than we were. Since our last meeting Herman had managed to equip himself with fisherman's rubber waders. We reached the barn and showed them the boat. They agreed with us that it left much to be desired but there was nothing else available. Perhaps it could be modified.

After some discussion we decided that we would wade back to Nieuwerkerk with it and see what could be done. Back once more along the road between Grote Hoofsted and Nieuwerkerk, this time we remembered the possibility that the undesirable companion of Keiser Romeijn may still be in residence at his otherwise deserted farm and leaving the road for that part of the journey, we waded along the other side of the hedge at the side of the road. This gave us rather more difficulty than we had anticipated since not only was there a line of trees at the side of the road but also a drainage ditch which meant that we had put ourselves in deeper water.

Eventually we left the water and carried the boat up the street into the middle of the village. There, Jan Schoenmaker, who knew the place better than we did, guided us to the local joiners workshop. Breaking in proved to be no problem and there we found tools and timber to modify the boat.

The boat was similar in design and size to the one described in Chapter 8. Being flat bottomed the sides consisted of two planks which met at the sharp end. When being used for one or two people in fairly calm conditions the water came only part way up the sides but Phil and I knew from bitter experience that with four of us aboard the water would be perilously close to the top of the sides.

Some discussion as to the best way of overcoming this problem took place and eventually it was solved by Herman and Jan working together to double the depth of the sides. This they did by using two more planks on top of the others and making them clip over the original sides by fixing short battens to each side, rather in the manner of making giant clothes pegs which gripped the sides and were also nailed through. It was a bizarre scene, the four of us around the work bench, Phil and I providing the light from our carefully conserved torches while Herman and Jan sawed and hammered.

Finally, it was finished and Phil and I agreed that it was now in a much more 'seaworthy' condition than it had been. I think we also agreed that while we ere willing to travel across the polder in it on this occasion we were far from enamoured with the idea. Looking round, we found ourselves a couple of small pans to be used as bailers. We then manhandled the boat off the bench and into the street and guided by Jan soon found ourselves going along the Molenstraat and passing the house which had once been so familiar to us.

We stopped and, more from curiosity than anything else, left the boat in the street and went inside. It was a sorry sight and had been well and truly turned over. Whether by casual looters or by our two 'deserters' returning with others who had decided to search the place thoroughly, I have no idea but most probably the latter. Descending to the street again we picked up the boat and carried on, reaching the water near the old mill.

Soon we would know how successful the modifications to the boat were. Jan sat in the bow so that he could see where we were going. He it was, a native of Nieuwerkerk, who knew the polder well and would guide us to the Wijde Linie on the Oude Polder Dijk. Hopefully we would find there the brothers Ringelberg waiting for our arrival. Sat amidships was Herman with the home-made oars ready to row and guide the boat in whatever direction he would hear from Jan. And in the stern side by side, Phil and I, pans poised, ready to remove any water which found its way over our newly doubled freeboard.

My recollections of the voyage that followed are strangely encapsulated in time. Some of the memories are clear such as the whispered instructions from Jan to Herman as to whether he should change direction or stop rowing for a moment while he listened or fended off some obstruction.

On more than one occasion the instruction would be relayed by Herman to stop us bailing and we were told that a large farmhouse in the vicinity was thought to be used as a post by the Germans. It was a cold night and the wind had dropped. In its absence the sound of the oars and our occasional bailing seemed at times to defy all our cautious attempts for quiet progress through this watery waste. During our occasional pauses even the gentle lapping of the water against the sides of the boat seemed quite loud.

It was one of those nights when we would have welcomed more darkness. Each distant building and tree seemed to be clearly silhouetted against the skyline which helped Jan to guide us to our rendezvous. On the other hand it seemed to me that we also were silhouetted and exposed to the gaze of any potential observer.

How long this part of the journey lasted is difficult for me to say with certainty - probably an hour and a half but it could have been less. Its conclusion was signalled by our approach to a farm and its buildings which seemed to lie in the shadow of a high dijk. We skirted the buildings and approached the dijk from which two dark figures reached out and held on to our little boat while we disembarked.

One of them was Jan Ringleberg who had come to Ouwerkerk and the other was Joost his brother. Joost took over the oat as we scrambled up the side of the dijk. Paddling around the side of the building, he sank the boat in a shed at the back of the house, before returning. I looked at my watch and made some comment to Phil that it was half-past twelve and that we had managed to keep our appointment with some time to spare.

So far, so good. His reply agreed with the sentiments that I had expressed and pointed out that since it was half-past twelve we were now into the 6th December which was his birthday and that if the rest of the day continued successfully we should be in a position to celebrate it as a suitably memorable one. However the new day had only just begun. There were other difficulties to overcome not least getting into Zierikzee undetected before daybreak.

Our guides were now the Ringelberg brothers who set off to lead us along the dijk. Several times one or other would let out a cautious whistle and the other five would stop until it was indicated that we should proceed further, sometimes with a change of direction. After one of these pauses it became obvious that we were approaching the outskirts of the town and that we would continue along a metalled road bounded on each side with tree-lined footpaths.

Stopping once more, our guides told us to remove our boots and to carry them. They then went ahead of us on either side of the road and controlled our cautious progress. Soon we were skirting the town which seemed to have a canal around it rather like a wide moat. One of the entrances to the town went across a small bridge and through an arched building above which were two pointed towers; however we went in the other direction and crossed the canal by another little bridge.

Guided by our two new companions we were brought into a house where Jan Ringelberg was obviously at home though apparently he was the only occupant. Joost after a few words with his brother departed and Jan busy in the kitchen soon had us eating a welcome dish of braised mutton. After this Joost returned and escorted Phil and me to his own home, two or three streets away. Here we met his wife, Min, who also provided us with some warm food in the form of porridge and a cup of tea.

However we were not to settle here either, nor were the night's surprises over. Herman was to spend the day with someone called van de Beek who turned out to be another policeman. We were to spend the daylight hours in an unoccupied house in the vicinity. In this house was installed a deserter from the German army - Unter Officier Jork Mikkenian - an Armenian who on the 17th September had directed fire from his antiaircraft battery away from the allied aircraft which flew over. He had resisted attempts by other members of the Wehrmacht to take over his responsibilities but had finally been removed questioned and locked up. Helped to escape by his friends he had fled in an attempt to leave the island and reach the mainland. This had proved impossible and he had been discovered by Joost in the flooded area. Wild, starving and feverishly ill, he had been brought by Joost into Zierikzee and nursed back to health and strength by Min and Joost.

This was indeed a strange way to spend a birthday. In less than twenty-four hours we had received a visitor in Ouwerkerk, met Herman and Jan Schoenmaker, floated across to the Wijde Linie meeting Joost and after walking into Zierikzee his wife Min; and now here we were just after dawn with a Wehrmacht corporal who had previously been a member of the Red Army. There was no sign of his uniform, he was wearing a civvy suit made of dark blue serge. His hair was dark, thick and curly. He was rather short - about five feet five, had a sallow complexion and even with regular and frequent shaving soon showed signs of 'five o'clock shadow'.

We spent some little time in difficult conversation by means of our limited German. I remember that he was interested in the Smith and Wesson .38 revolver that I carried though it seemed to rather insignificant in comparison with the heavy Mauser automatic pistol that he had. This weapon he cleaned and cared for lovingly. It was probably a ritual of his lonely hours though apparently he had spent much of his time round the corner with Min and Joost. Although we were rather excited, Phil and I were somewhat tired having been without rest for more than twenty-four hours. After some more attempts at conversation, we stretched out on one of the two beds and tried to sleep.

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