A Glider Pilot's Story - continued (8a)

CHAPTER 8

For us things were now becoming more difficult. Autumn was giving way to winter. Sometimes we ate the bottled fruits and vegetables cold, at other times we would warm them over the little paraffin stove, eking out the bread and any other remnants of potato-flour products we could find on our expeditions. Eventually we succumbed to an uncomfortable bout of diarrhoea which lasted a couple of days. We decided that it was again time to visit Jan and his mother. There we were made welcome as usual and given another supply of bread. Phil mentioned my upset tummy which provoked some concern at the time and an unexpected result which I will refer to later.

On our return to Nieuwerkerk, we continued much as before with regular cautious housebreaking expeditions for supplies. Most of the proprietary foods we found were substitutes (surrogaat) or artificial (kunst). So we would often find Sago, Rice, or Tapioca made really from potato flour (ardappelmeel); tablets or herbal mixtures described as tea. Some of these were not unpleasant, all were welcome. None were in great supply, usually perhaps an ounce or less remaining in a half pound packet. The instructions for use (gebruiksaanwijzing) and the description of the contents provided at least a visual Dutch lesson when used in conjunction with the dictionary. We could only guess at the pronunciation with the help of the grammar book. We learned from Jan how to say please and thank you and the usual daily greetings.

Sometimes on our forays we thought we had hit the jackpot but more often than not, it was not so. Once we found a large packet containing a yellow powder described as 'kunsteigeel'. It was edible when mixed with water and cooked, the result proved in appearance to resemble a sort of Cremola pudding - extremely light weight, all froth and bubbles. We eventually realised that it was probably meant to be used as a colouring additive for cakes rather than a food in its own right. On another occasion, in the upstairs storeroom of the bakery, we found a sack half-full of what appeared to be very coarse flour which smelled a bit musty. The outside of the sack bore the German crest and we presumed that the baker had been baking bread for the Wehrmacht. After some unsatisfactory trials with it, we finally concluded that it was sawdust.

Upstairs in one house, we found a couple of bunches of tobacco leaves hanging to dry by the side of the fireplace. We removed them and took them back 'home' with us. Carefully stripping the leaves from the stalks, we rolled them into a cigar shaped cylinder and then with a razor blade cut up the roll into thin slices. This gave us a smokeable shag. Finding a suitable paper was more difficult but by and large we obtained several smokes each of which gave us much satisfaction.

A less than successful venture was the discovery in one shop of a large number of packets of cigarettes. The resident mouse population had been at many of the packets but there were still enough undamaged to make us think that we were really in luck. They looked like cigarettes and they lit well enough although they were a bit dry. However a couple of puffs had us both coughing and spluttering. We did make two or three attempts to smoke these monstrosities but finally we gave up. We had failed to take notice of the description on the outside of each packet - "Tabak Surrogaat". Though finely shredded and nicely rolled and packed, the substitute proved to be wild flowers and plant material. Useful for a botany lesson but for us completely unsmokeable. It was like sitting inside a smouldering haystack. They did not even bear a worthy resemblance to the herbal cigarettes we had seen on sale in England.

These minor disappointments were for us "all in the day's work." We accepted them as part of a roundabouts and swings situation, even with a certain amount of wry humour. There was never any feeling on our part that we had wasted our time, in fact time was what we had in plenty. For diversion we would sometimes play battleships, with long serious discussions over the number of squares we would make available and at the composition of our battle fleets. Also we would gravely consider the number of permissible shots in each salvo and the number of direct hits required to effect the sinking of the ships in each category. Another pastime arose out of an attempt to reduce the mouse population on a competitive basis. We each had a conventional mousetrap with which we caught several mice. These we put outside on the balcony which overlooked the back garden. They were usually removed, either by the local kestrels or owls. I don't know which because we never saw the final disposal. Sometimes in the night we would be awakened by one of the traps being triggered and we would investigate immediately to see who had made a catch. Sometimes neither of us had, the mice becoming adept at removing the meagre bait and then escaping. For bait I think we used dried peas which had been soaked.

We also tried to invent our own Heath Robinson type of traps with a ramp leading up to a precarious walkway across the top of a large biscuit tin - these were not very successful either.

There were some nights when we couldn't sleep very well and would lie awake chatting. More often than not these conversations q had about them an element of nostalgia over our shared experiences and mutual friends. We would also talk about our homes and families, wondering how long it might be before we were reunited. We realised that although we knew that we were all right, our loved ones would only know that we had been missing since September 18th. They would be suffering a great deal of worry.

Occasionally our nights were disturbed by the rumble of distant gunfire from the direction of the mainland. Two or three weeks after the last visit by the Marechaussee, there was one night when the gunfire seemed to go on all night, this time from the direction of Beveland and Walcheren.

As I recall, there were barrages lasting over several days. We were quite excited about it for if Beveland Walcheren fell to the allies it meant that Schouwen would be next on the list. A few nights later we heard quite different noises and so we went along and climbed the tower and sat there in the dark, listening. What we could hear was the continuous movement of horses and carts rumbling and splashing along a road some distance away. We concluded that the Germans had been expelled from Beveland and Walcheren and they were making their way from Zierikzee to Brouwershaven. All this was a mixture of guesswork and hope in which we wondered whether the invasion of Schouwen and our liberation would soon be upon us. The next few days were full of uncertainty for us - would it be safe for us to venture forth from our hideout and would there now be many more German troops on the island.

However we decided to stay where we were and continued to go out each day in search of food. Although this was by now a thoroughly established and familiar routine, we did not neglect caution and stealth. And so one morning we set out rather later than usual and as we came to the end of the Molenstraat we heard voices. Slowly we reached the corner and paused to listen and look. Halfway down the street leaning against the wall outside a shop were two rifles. We hastily turned back around the corner to weigh up the situation. We listened and whispered.

Our conclusion was that we had two unexpected visitors to Nieuwerkerk and that they were almost certainly German soldiers. Nervous and alert, we traversed the top of the street and went some distance along the parallel street to listen again and confirm our suspicions. We decided that they were probably alone but we couldn't be sure. We thought also that they were doing a bit of private looting - it seemed unlikely that they were part of a group searching for us.

We made our way back to the top of the street at Molenstraat from where we could see the rifles again. Another whispered discussion took place in an attempt to resolve our dilemma - without doubt we could have taken care of them but it would not have improved our position. In fact it would have increased the risk of the Germans discovering our whereabouts. We made the same decision as on the occasion of our first encounter with the Dutch police and quietly returned to sit it out and hope to continue with our evasion tactics.

Quietly, we sat, and listened, and spoke only in whispers. This time however we determined not to go out again that day. After what seemed an interminable age we heard the sound of Jackboots and German voices in the street outside.

The heavy footsteps paused, started again and then stopped. We could almost hear them wondering which house they were going to break into. Our fervent hope was that they weren't going to choose ours. Then came the sound of their heavy footsteps along the path leading to the back of the house. Next we heard the kitchen window being opened and knew that they were clambering through it. Quietly, we released our safety catches and concealed ourselves behind the doorways at the top of the stairs awaiting their ascent.

After a cursory inspection of the downstairs rooms they began to mount the stairs, talking as they came, completely unaware of our presence. As they neared the top, Phil and I sprang out of our places of concealment shouting "Hande Hoch!" In a considerable state of shock, they immediately responded by raising their hands and calling out fearfully, "Nicht schiessen! Kein Waffen" (Don't shoot, no arms.) Gesturing with our weapons we brought them into the upper room which had been our home for so long.

Here was a pretty kettle of fish. We had certainly observed that they were indeed unarmed. We could make a fair guess where their rifles were and we were secretly surprised at their carelessness. While they were still in a state of shock, I ordered them to sit and demanded their soldatenbuchen. Phil and I scrutinised each in turn and then tried to question them to see what information we could elicit. They told us that they had come from North Beveland fleeing from the British. They also claimed that they had had enough of the war, each having been wounded on the Russian front. Their pay books corroborated this statement.

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