A Glider Pilot's Story - continued (17)

CHAPTER 17

It would soon be light. We were lost although we knew where we were. We were definitely in the neighbourhood of Schuddebeurs. Phil and I had been unable to understand Joost's directions for finding the place where he intended us to hide. Herman had no doubt understood the directions but we were all confused. We recognised the area from our walk into Zierikzee with the Ringelbergs in the early hours of the 6th December.

We made our way along the Oude Polder Dijk to the Wijde Linie. It looked to us as solitary and deserted as before. We decided that it would have to do as a temporary hiding place even though it was not where we had been directed. I think all three of us felt rather insecure. Phil and I would have felt better in the more familiar surroundings of Nieuwerkerk or Ouwerkerk. Herman would have been happier if he'd been able to return to Sirjansland. We were also worried because if Joost came looking for us a couple of days later as he had promised, he would be unable to find us. The news we had received in Zierikzee had been shattering even if not completely unexpected. All these things weighed heavily upon us and added to our confusion and uncertainty.

We decided to risk it and spend the daylight hours in the farmhouse and then in the afternoon as darkness approached, we would retrieve the boat which had been sunk in the shed at the side of the house. The house itself had a central entrance and passage on each side of which were the ground floor rooms. The stairs from the passage led above to a central attic (zolder) off which were small bedrooms overlooking the forecourt and the road along the dijk. Everywhere in everything thought to be of value had been removed and what was left had been discarded and scattered all over the floors both upstairs and down. It was like a nightmarish hangover from a jumble sale. In modern parlance it had been thoroughly turned over, just as the house in the Molenstraat had been between the time we had abandoned it and the night of the 5th.

We needed the rest, and lay side by side on the bed which was about the same level as the bottom of the window. By turning our heads to one side we could see along the road at the top of the dijk. Lying there we quietly discussed our predicament and what we hoped to do later in the day.

At about 11 o'clock in the morning, two German soldiers came into the house. Phil and I had been through this before another couple of looters. We waited quietly. We could hear them talking below and kicking the rubbish aside as they rooted about for anything of value. There were no rich pickings left for them and after two or three minutes, they left the house without even bothering to come up the stairs. We breathed again and no doubt our heart beat gradually returned to normal once again.

At about midday, we were disturbed again, this time by two Dutch labourers. Waiting quietly as before, we saw one come up the stairs while at first the other one stayed below. This time the one who first came up the stairs spotted Phil's boots among the rubble and bent down to pick them up and examine them. At this we showed ourselves, leaving Herman to tell them and warn them off. Herman spoke to them for a couple of minutes and then they left. We were quite worried about this turn of events as we knew that the previous week all men between 17 and 40 had been ordered to report to the Germans and that any able bodied men in the area were either divers in hiding or were working under German supervision.

We had only showed ourselves to prevent the loss of Phil's boots. We knew how frightened the locals were and who could blame them when, two days earlier, ten of their number had been publicly executed. We discussed with Herman the chances of being given away by the two labourers - they were obviously working in the vicinity and we were loath to make ourselves scarce in the daylight. Our best hope lay in the onset of darkness and we returned to the little bedroom to sweat it out.

At about two-thirty in the afternoon we knew that our fate had been sealed. A group of heavily armed Germans, some 16 in number, could be seen approaching along the dijk road. They were in files and as the leading file came abreast of the farm they spread themselves along the road and faced the house. The leaders after satisfying themselves as to the positioning of their men, detached themselves and crossed the forecourt to the entrance of the house.

From our viewpoint as we lay on the bed the scene was self-explanatory. This was a collection job. There was nowhere for us to go and nothing more to be done. Going into the attic towards the top of the stairs, I shouted "Kamerad!" and showed myself with hands upraised. Below stood an Oberleutnant and a Veldwebel. In response to their signal, I led Phil and Herman down the stairs. The Veldwebel removed the revolver which hung in front of me by the lanyard around my neck. A brief search revealed this to be our only weapon. He also removed my prismatic compass which he deemed to be a great prize.

The Leutnant spoke English and as we set off for Zierikzee with our escort, he suggested that our lot would be much improved on our arrival since we would be given hot coffee to drink. Some little way along the road, we passed a small group of Dutch labourers working on a drainage ditch. Here the Oberleutnant left us, mounted a small motorcycle lying at the side of the road and rapidly departed in the direction of Zierikzee.

We continued under escort which was now commanded by the Veldwebel. Once or twice he attempted conversational gambits the first of which was one we were to hear several times in the next couple of weeks. "For you the war is over!" This seemed to be an English phrase known to many members of the German armed forces as I am sure many ex-P.O.W. will remember especially late in the war. For many of them it was probably a kind of wishful thinking which reflected a kind of envy that the war was not yet over for them.

We approached the town from the same direction that we had done on the two previous occasions but we skirted it to the east and we were brought to a small villa on the eastern edge of the town. This was the Kommandantur and we were led into an orderly office which adjoined the Kommandant's office. We were allowed to sit. Here we could observe for the first time elements of the Wehrmacht hierarchy in action. In charge of the office was a Staps Veldwebel which rank if paralleled in step was equal to my own but in effect was more like that of a W.O.ll. One of his clerks came in for what seemed to be a roasting for some minor dereliction of duty and stood smartly to attention with hands on buttocks interposing occasionally "Ja Herr Stapsveldwebel .... Nein Herr Stapsveldwebel .... Jawohl Herr Stapsveldwebel!"

Most of our escort had been dismissed but an Unter-Officier and two men had been retained to keep an eye on us. After a few minutes I demanded to go the toilet. I was taken along a short passage to the W.C. and allowed to close the door behind me. I hadn't really needed to go in the normal sense but I had realised that the pocket Dutch dictionary in my pocket had the name of Luitenant Schaap's son written on the flyleaf. I needed an opportunity to dispose of that.

We were in the orderly room for something like a couple of hours. One of the first arrivals was I believe the island commandant who breezed through the orderly room and into his office beyond. This seemed to be the signal for much to-ing and fro-ing, the first called being the Stapsveldwebel.

Others came and went in succession. One of these was the Oberleutnant. On his second trip through the orderly room I stood up and addressed him. "Herr Oberleutnant ?" "Yes, Staff-Sergeant ?" "What has happened to that cup of coffee you spoke about ?" "Yes, of course. Ein moment." Some minutes later we did in fact receive a cup of warm, black, ersatz coffee. For me the coffee was relatively unimportant though welcome. What mattered was that I had laid down a foundation for dealing with the Germans which seemed to bear out the efficacy of the biblical precept "Ask and thou shalt receive." I was to find this very useful on several later occasions. For a German it was probably synonymous with "Demand what you want." It was important not to be afraid to ask. The wisdom of asking lies in the receipt of an answer as an old army colleague once told me relative to his amorous conquests, "You'd be surprised how often they say yes!"

Wehrmacht personnel were not the only ones who progressed through the orderly room. On two occasions civilians were invited to scrutinise us through a half-open door. The first of these was by a young woman and the second by a rather tall man, in appearance more like a farmer than an office worker. I returned his stare; momentarily I thought that he was the man who had come around the corner on his bike and greeted me in Dutch while I had been following Cor. After some reflection I dismissed this as unlikely.

Eventually the commandant called for us to stand before him in turn. The Oberleutnant stood by him. As I recall, I just stood to attention and recited my number, rank, and name. This appeared to suffice (for the time being) and I was returned to the orderly room.

There then followed something which I found rather strange. The warrant officer after hunting around produced a razor blade and proceeded to strip away not only the badges of rank from our smocks but also those and all other Divisional insignia from our battle dress.

Some little while later we were escorted outside and brought into a house some distance away. Here we were kept under guard, sleeping on the floor.

© Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.