I know, but it's rather short and mainly focusses on the Frisian part. My Grandfather was in Groningen (Hoogezand).
Personal recollections of WW2
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I know, but it's rather short and mainly focusses on the Frisian part. My Grandfather was in Groningen (Hoogezand).
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- #82
- Thread starter
- #83
Start, part 10
Evacuation again
A month after the Oosterbeek debacle, on October 21st, the authorities declared the entire area a war zone and announced that everybody had to leave the next day. We packed a suitcase and two bags each, leaving everything else behind and joined an endless train of other refugees walking North, some with a pram or wheel-barrow. One of the most curious patterns of human behaviour I ever saw was that some women cleaned the windows before they left, wanting "to leave the house looking proper". Memoirs of fugitives from the Arnhem episode also mention this, that's what being house-proud can do... As we approached the railway station of the small town to the North, a strafing-attack was carried out by the Allied 2nd Tactical Air Force, whose close support had been conspicuously lacking during the action around Arnhem (one of the contributing factors to the defeat of the ground troops). We trew ourselves in a ditch, but there were casualties among the refugees around us. Once more, my mother did not panic and after a few moments, aware that we were not competent to do anything for the victims, she said: "that's it, I think, let's get moving".
Totally random factors may determine one's fate; arriving in the small town, my mother decided to leave the stream of fugitives, avoid the town centre and circle the periphery. An excellent idea, for as we walked along the railway track for about two miles, the built-up area ended and the road became an unpaved path, with 6 widely spaced houses along it. One of these looked very tidy and a clean-looking woman was doing the washing in the yard. My mother approached her and asked whether we could sleep in the shed for a night, the lady took a good look at us and said: "I'll ask the boss". Her husband sized us up at a glance and said: "you'll stay with us until the war is over".
An impressive decision, made instantaneously – how long the war is going to continue is uncertain (it would be eight months), they were not affluent and had 4 children to feed – but then these were impressive people. Mr and Mrs Z. were obviously happily married and were in their early fifties, two daughters had married and still living with their parents were Jack (16), Tim (15), Katy (14) and Mary (13) – all names are English equivalents. Both parents had a great innate moral authority without any hint of autoritatianism. They were fairly strict orthodox Christians, frivolous activities on the Sunday were taboo, but the restrictions were quite acceptable to me and their absolute certainty of what was "right" and "wrong" based on moral principles was a good example for a kid and inspired a feeling of security. At noon, the Bible was read aloud after the meal and the task of reading circulated around the table. When for the first timemy turn came up, it gave me a strong feeling of being accepted when Mr Z. handed me the Bible saying: "today you'll read to us, laddy".
As I said at the beginning of this thread, I have some letters I wrote during the winter of 1944-1945. One was written a few days after we had joined the Z. family and gives a good impression of the reaction of a 10-year-old to war. After being forced to move, leaving practically everything behind, having no idea where to go and being strafed, here is an excerpt:
You've heard that paratroopers landed near us and were beaten by the Germans. Then we were evacuated and were strafed near the railway station, but we were lucky. Now we are staying with the Z. family at (address) and it's very nice and comfy here".
As you may imagine, I am rather critical of the present-day efforts "to prevent trauma to children" when something stressful has happened by sending a platoon of psycho-experts to counsel the kids, parents and teachers, of trying to reach "closure" by staging a musical around the stressful event etcetera. With a calm, controlled and rational example like my mother for guidance, children are probably far more resilient and flexible than modern counsellors think… And I'm happy to say that a friend of mine, a renowned psychotherapist, completely agrees with me!
Of course, I here emphatically exclude trauma that transcends all reasonable limits like severe personal losses or racial persecution.
Mr Z., Jack and Tim were all of an age when you were likely to be forcibly recruited for labour in the German war industry, but they did not need to go into hiding. Mr Z. had worked as a truck driver for a factory that had just stopped functioning (I'll come back to that) and apparently this had not yet registered with the Germans, Jack had a dispensation because he suffered from stomach ulcers and Tim worked in a factory that was still producing paint – mainly for use by the Germans by then. As I said before, this was not regarded as collaboration, all branches of the economy were eventually supplying Germany and at least the firms kept their employees alive, and out of the hands of the German recruiters. Building concrete emplacements for the Germans was a different story, however. Because of his contacts, Tim managed to "scrounge" the occasional bottle of lamp-oil or white spirit. We paid for our upkeep, of course, and slept in a small room upstairs. Everyday life was focused on the wood-burning range in the live-in kitchen, there was a "drawing-room" too with the best furniture but that was never used as it would have required more heating!
End, part 10
Evacuation again
A month after the Oosterbeek debacle, on October 21st, the authorities declared the entire area a war zone and announced that everybody had to leave the next day. We packed a suitcase and two bags each, leaving everything else behind and joined an endless train of other refugees walking North, some with a pram or wheel-barrow. One of the most curious patterns of human behaviour I ever saw was that some women cleaned the windows before they left, wanting "to leave the house looking proper". Memoirs of fugitives from the Arnhem episode also mention this, that's what being house-proud can do... As we approached the railway station of the small town to the North, a strafing-attack was carried out by the Allied 2nd Tactical Air Force, whose close support had been conspicuously lacking during the action around Arnhem (one of the contributing factors to the defeat of the ground troops). We trew ourselves in a ditch, but there were casualties among the refugees around us. Once more, my mother did not panic and after a few moments, aware that we were not competent to do anything for the victims, she said: "that's it, I think, let's get moving".
Totally random factors may determine one's fate; arriving in the small town, my mother decided to leave the stream of fugitives, avoid the town centre and circle the periphery. An excellent idea, for as we walked along the railway track for about two miles, the built-up area ended and the road became an unpaved path, with 6 widely spaced houses along it. One of these looked very tidy and a clean-looking woman was doing the washing in the yard. My mother approached her and asked whether we could sleep in the shed for a night, the lady took a good look at us and said: "I'll ask the boss". Her husband sized us up at a glance and said: "you'll stay with us until the war is over".
An impressive decision, made instantaneously – how long the war is going to continue is uncertain (it would be eight months), they were not affluent and had 4 children to feed – but then these were impressive people. Mr and Mrs Z. were obviously happily married and were in their early fifties, two daughters had married and still living with their parents were Jack (16), Tim (15), Katy (14) and Mary (13) – all names are English equivalents. Both parents had a great innate moral authority without any hint of autoritatianism. They were fairly strict orthodox Christians, frivolous activities on the Sunday were taboo, but the restrictions were quite acceptable to me and their absolute certainty of what was "right" and "wrong" based on moral principles was a good example for a kid and inspired a feeling of security. At noon, the Bible was read aloud after the meal and the task of reading circulated around the table. When for the first timemy turn came up, it gave me a strong feeling of being accepted when Mr Z. handed me the Bible saying: "today you'll read to us, laddy".
As I said at the beginning of this thread, I have some letters I wrote during the winter of 1944-1945. One was written a few days after we had joined the Z. family and gives a good impression of the reaction of a 10-year-old to war. After being forced to move, leaving practically everything behind, having no idea where to go and being strafed, here is an excerpt:
You've heard that paratroopers landed near us and were beaten by the Germans. Then we were evacuated and were strafed near the railway station, but we were lucky. Now we are staying with the Z. family at (address) and it's very nice and comfy here".
As you may imagine, I am rather critical of the present-day efforts "to prevent trauma to children" when something stressful has happened by sending a platoon of psycho-experts to counsel the kids, parents and teachers, of trying to reach "closure" by staging a musical around the stressful event etcetera. With a calm, controlled and rational example like my mother for guidance, children are probably far more resilient and flexible than modern counsellors think… And I'm happy to say that a friend of mine, a renowned psychotherapist, completely agrees with me!
Of course, I here emphatically exclude trauma that transcends all reasonable limits like severe personal losses or racial persecution.
Mr Z., Jack and Tim were all of an age when you were likely to be forcibly recruited for labour in the German war industry, but they did not need to go into hiding. Mr Z. had worked as a truck driver for a factory that had just stopped functioning (I'll come back to that) and apparently this had not yet registered with the Germans, Jack had a dispensation because he suffered from stomach ulcers and Tim worked in a factory that was still producing paint – mainly for use by the Germans by then. As I said before, this was not regarded as collaboration, all branches of the economy were eventually supplying Germany and at least the firms kept their employees alive, and out of the hands of the German recruiters. Building concrete emplacements for the Germans was a different story, however. Because of his contacts, Tim managed to "scrounge" the occasional bottle of lamp-oil or white spirit. We paid for our upkeep, of course, and slept in a small room upstairs. Everyday life was focused on the wood-burning range in the live-in kitchen, there was a "drawing-room" too with the best furniture but that was never used as it would have required more heating!
End, part 10
Last edited:
t-rocket
Recruit
FASS,
In 2006 I obtained from the Imperial War Museum a copy of film that was shot during the March 03, 1945 mission to bomb Haagse Bos that mistakenly hit the homes in Bezuidenhout. I had always read that it was a navigational mistake, but when viewing the film it is clearly evident that the target was obscured by cloud cover. Witnesses said that the fires from the attack blotted out the sun, so it must have been a partly-sunny day, but it is evident from the film that there were clouds, even at low levels.
I have uploaded a 1-minute "edited version" of this 6-minute reel.
http://www.v2rocket.com/transfer/mar03/IWM_Bezuidenhout_Mar03_1945.wmv
In my 2005 book written about the V-2 I had not yet seen this film, but here is an extract-
... On March 3, 1945, 56 Allied medium bombers flew to the Dutch coast, not dropping
food, but intending to bomb Duindigt and the western portions of the Haagsche
Bosch where many V-2s were supposed to be stored. Because the V-2 targets were primarily
in wooded areas, Allied commanders believed a low-level medium bomber
attack could be carried out without risking too many civilian casualties. However,
because of a navigation mistake, the first bombs were dropped to the southeast of the
Haagsche Bosch instead of northwest—a deviation of over a mile. The following aircraft
also released their bombs on the cue of the lead aircraft.
At that moment, Rita Winter was standing behind a church in a cemetery with her
mother and aunt. The funeral for little Frans Winter was concluding. As he was lowered
into the ground, the drone of the bombers over Bezuidenhout echoed through the
graveyard. The earth under their feet started to shake as the bombs began to fall in the
distance. In a short time, the entire Bezuidenhout quarter, the civilian housing south
of The Hague forest, was set ablaze. The whole area soon turned dark, as the smoke
from the fires blotted out the sun.
Firemen from all over The Hague, Vlaardingen, Schiedam, Rotterdam, and Utrecht
en Zaandam battled to extinguish the fires all afternoon and evening. That night, as
the fires still blazed, several rockets rose into the smoke-filled skies, launched from
Duindigt in the north. The Germans wanted to let the Allies know that they had
missed their target once again. Shortly after 2 o'clock in the morning, five firemen were
killed when one of these rockets came down at Vlierweg near the Schenkweg, on the
edge of the Bezuidenhout. On Sunday the damage was clear: 3,315 houses were burned
out entirely, mainly at Thersiastraat and Juliana van Stolberglaan and in the surroundings
of Korte Voorhout; 1,217 houses were heavily damaged; 486 civilians were killed;
and about 12,000 people lost their homes and all their possessions. What made the
event even more tragic was the fact that Fighter Command had used outdated intelligence
when planning the raid.The rockets had been removed from the Haagsche Bosch several
weeks before.
food, but intending to bomb Duindigt and the western portions of the Haagsche
Bosch where many V-2s were supposed to be stored. Because the V-2 targets were primarily
in wooded areas, Allied commanders believed a low-level medium bomber
attack could be carried out without risking too many civilian casualties. However,
because of a navigation mistake, the first bombs were dropped to the southeast of the
Haagsche Bosch instead of northwest—a deviation of over a mile. The following aircraft
also released their bombs on the cue of the lead aircraft.
At that moment, Rita Winter was standing behind a church in a cemetery with her
mother and aunt. The funeral for little Frans Winter was concluding. As he was lowered
into the ground, the drone of the bombers over Bezuidenhout echoed through the
graveyard. The earth under their feet started to shake as the bombs began to fall in the
distance. In a short time, the entire Bezuidenhout quarter, the civilian housing south
of The Hague forest, was set ablaze. The whole area soon turned dark, as the smoke
from the fires blotted out the sun.
Firemen from all over The Hague, Vlaardingen, Schiedam, Rotterdam, and Utrecht
en Zaandam battled to extinguish the fires all afternoon and evening. That night, as
the fires still blazed, several rockets rose into the smoke-filled skies, launched from
Duindigt in the north. The Germans wanted to let the Allies know that they had
missed their target once again. Shortly after 2 o'clock in the morning, five firemen were
killed when one of these rockets came down at Vlierweg near the Schenkweg, on the
edge of the Bezuidenhout. On Sunday the damage was clear: 3,315 houses were burned
out entirely, mainly at Thersiastraat and Juliana van Stolberglaan and in the surroundings
of Korte Voorhout; 1,217 houses were heavily damaged; 486 civilians were killed;
and about 12,000 people lost their homes and all their possessions. What made the
event even more tragic was the fact that Fighter Command had used outdated intelligence
when planning the raid.The rockets had been removed from the Haagsche Bosch several
weeks before.
http://www.v2rocket.com/transfer/mar03/001.jpg
http://www.v2rocket.com/transfer/mar03/002.jpg
Regards,
Tracy
V2ROCKET.COM - The A-4/V-2 Resource Site - The V-2 Rocket
The Wirraway was a derivative of the Harvard yes and I suppose the Boomerang in some respects is as well considering it used similar components. A Wirraway famously shot down a Zero once, remarkable considering what an ineffective combat aircraft it was. The Beaufort, Beaufighter and Mosquito were also produced in Australia by the DAP (Department of Aircraft Production).
t-rocket
Recruit
fass,
Do you know where Mr. and Mrs. Z's house was situated? Where is it on a map?
you can email me privately if you'd like.
T
- Thread starter
- #87
@t-rocket:
Most interesting and this requires a careful answer!
1) Obviously, the planners of the raid were aware of the risk of causing civilian casualties. The standard operating procedure in such cases should (and probably: must, or will) have been that the mission shall be aborted if the target is not visible. If the mission profile did not specify this, or if the bomb aimers did not follow this instruction when they discovered that clouds obscured the target, this is indeed a case of inexcusable negligence.
2) Crucially important: this was a low level raid, by RAF squadrons of 2 Group, a tactical force. If bomb aimers released their bombs on the cue of the leading aircraft, this was against RAF standard operating procedure. Dropping on the cue of a lead bombardier (instead of individual aiming) was standard operating procedure for high-level bombing in the USAAF strategic attacks, but in Bomber Command, individual aiming was obligatory. Excellent examples of this practice were seen when Bomber Command switched to tactical (or rather: operational) bombing in preparation of the invasion, e.g. the bombing of the railway centres like Trappes. In other words: even a strategic bomber force could carry out pinpoint attacks by aiming individually, and this would be even more applicable to a low-level raid by a tactical force. Therefore: whoever decided to bomb on cue instead of by individual aiming, was very, very wrong especially under these circumstances.
3) As regards the "removal of the rockets from the Haagsche Bosch several weeks before", this is a puzzling issue.
I'm not sure why the V2 rockets should have been "present" in the Haagsche Bosch: by then there was not much left of the forest as a whole portion had been cleared and many trees in the remnant had been cut down. There were no V2 storage bunkers in the woods, so there was no cover against aerial observation and the Germans are not likely to have left V2s out in the open!
But there's more, and I'll discuss the details for those who are not familiar with the procedure of firing V2s (a full German instruction movie has been preserved):
In the case of the V2s launched from The Hague, the rockets and liquid oxygen tanks were transported by rail from Germany. I personally saw such trains on their way to The Hague, covered with tarpaulins, as I lived along the railway line from Germany to The Hague then. The Hague railway station was practically at the edge of the Haagsche Bosch and the later Duindigt launch sites were only a small distance away. The rockets were first loaded onto flatbed trucks for transport to the site. There, they were loaded onto a special vehicle called the Meillerwagen, which moved to the site and erected the rocket on a small pedestal. Any reasonably flat surface was suitable, there was NO special launch tower or any other facility. The tanks were filled from separate vehicles, electrical cables were attached and the rocket was fired from a distance. In other words: the V2s were present at the site for only a very short time, and there was nothing to bomb if you did not happen to fly over the site during that very short time! "Bombing the V2 sites" was, therefore, a totally pointless activity – remember that the Americans never caught a Scud "launch site" during the Gulf War, and the Scud is a direct descendant from the V2.
But I've found out more that sounds interesting, on a website maintained by The Hague City Archives (so it's not a privately-run site and its ancestry looks reliable). The URL is: Haagse herinneringen - Het bombardement and I strongly recommend a visit because there is an important contemporary map of The Hague there that clarifies a lot. Here is a translation of some relevant phrases of the Dutch text (my personal comments in Italics) :
On Sept. 8th, 1944 the Germans began to launch V2 rockets from the vicinity of The Hague to London… From Sept. to March 1945 rockets were fired almost daily… British fighter-bombers tried to destroy the launch facilities (NOTE: this is the usual error, see above) and trains transporting fuel… The British attacks on the launch facilities were not effective and therefore it was decided to use medium bombers… The attack was carried out by 137 Wing and 139 Wing, of 2 Group… Two aiming-points were chosen in the Haagsche Bosch… The most serious error was made when a young and inexperienced intelligence officer of 137 Wing mixed up the two axes (NOTE: of the coordinates) of one of the aiming-points … one of the two aiming-points thus became the Juliana van Stolbergplein (NOTE: in the heart of the built-up area, on the map it says "fout richtpunt" – wrong aiming-point)… The other wing, 139, did get the correct coordinates. This wing included a Dutch squadron, 320. The squadron commander had relatives living in the Bezuidenhout and at his request was given permission not to join the operation… An Air Ministry official stated that … the standard rules for sparing civilian targets should be observed … Because of cloud cover, most aircraft of 139 Wing released their bombs through the clouds using radar (NOTE: I find this extremely doubtful. There were only two possible "radar" aids for bombing at that time. The first was H2S, but this was not carried (see the movie!) by B-25s and would have been useless anyway for several reasons, including the swamping of the indicator set screen by the ground returns. The only alternative would have been Oboe, but the B25 crews were totally unqualified for that method, which required ultra-precise flying. I conclude, therefore, that this information is incorrect). They could not see the target but had received the correct coordinates (NOTE: map coordinates at that time only made sense if you could visually compare the map and the scenery, there being no GPS). The aircraft of 137 Wing could see their (wrong) target without using radar and bombed the Bezuidenhout… When the British discovered that an intelligence officer had drawn the wrong coordinates they kept it under wraps, although the officer was court-martialled… The relevant records remained classified and inaccessible until 1972.
(END OF TRANSLATED QUOTES).
I think this is interesting and requires consideration, if we disregard the technical ("radar") error.
@t-rocket, re your second message:
Indeed I know the locality of the Z. family's house, passed by it 3 days ago... I've decided not to identify places and names in public because some people I mention (or their relatives) are still alive. As we know each other, I'll send you more detailed data privately.
Most interesting and this requires a careful answer!
1) Obviously, the planners of the raid were aware of the risk of causing civilian casualties. The standard operating procedure in such cases should (and probably: must, or will) have been that the mission shall be aborted if the target is not visible. If the mission profile did not specify this, or if the bomb aimers did not follow this instruction when they discovered that clouds obscured the target, this is indeed a case of inexcusable negligence.
2) Crucially important: this was a low level raid, by RAF squadrons of 2 Group, a tactical force. If bomb aimers released their bombs on the cue of the leading aircraft, this was against RAF standard operating procedure. Dropping on the cue of a lead bombardier (instead of individual aiming) was standard operating procedure for high-level bombing in the USAAF strategic attacks, but in Bomber Command, individual aiming was obligatory. Excellent examples of this practice were seen when Bomber Command switched to tactical (or rather: operational) bombing in preparation of the invasion, e.g. the bombing of the railway centres like Trappes. In other words: even a strategic bomber force could carry out pinpoint attacks by aiming individually, and this would be even more applicable to a low-level raid by a tactical force. Therefore: whoever decided to bomb on cue instead of by individual aiming, was very, very wrong especially under these circumstances.
3) As regards the "removal of the rockets from the Haagsche Bosch several weeks before", this is a puzzling issue.
I'm not sure why the V2 rockets should have been "present" in the Haagsche Bosch: by then there was not much left of the forest as a whole portion had been cleared and many trees in the remnant had been cut down. There were no V2 storage bunkers in the woods, so there was no cover against aerial observation and the Germans are not likely to have left V2s out in the open!
But there's more, and I'll discuss the details for those who are not familiar with the procedure of firing V2s (a full German instruction movie has been preserved):
In the case of the V2s launched from The Hague, the rockets and liquid oxygen tanks were transported by rail from Germany. I personally saw such trains on their way to The Hague, covered with tarpaulins, as I lived along the railway line from Germany to The Hague then. The Hague railway station was practically at the edge of the Haagsche Bosch and the later Duindigt launch sites were only a small distance away. The rockets were first loaded onto flatbed trucks for transport to the site. There, they were loaded onto a special vehicle called the Meillerwagen, which moved to the site and erected the rocket on a small pedestal. Any reasonably flat surface was suitable, there was NO special launch tower or any other facility. The tanks were filled from separate vehicles, electrical cables were attached and the rocket was fired from a distance. In other words: the V2s were present at the site for only a very short time, and there was nothing to bomb if you did not happen to fly over the site during that very short time! "Bombing the V2 sites" was, therefore, a totally pointless activity – remember that the Americans never caught a Scud "launch site" during the Gulf War, and the Scud is a direct descendant from the V2.
But I've found out more that sounds interesting, on a website maintained by The Hague City Archives (so it's not a privately-run site and its ancestry looks reliable). The URL is: Haagse herinneringen - Het bombardement and I strongly recommend a visit because there is an important contemporary map of The Hague there that clarifies a lot. Here is a translation of some relevant phrases of the Dutch text (my personal comments in Italics) :
On Sept. 8th, 1944 the Germans began to launch V2 rockets from the vicinity of The Hague to London… From Sept. to March 1945 rockets were fired almost daily… British fighter-bombers tried to destroy the launch facilities (NOTE: this is the usual error, see above) and trains transporting fuel… The British attacks on the launch facilities were not effective and therefore it was decided to use medium bombers… The attack was carried out by 137 Wing and 139 Wing, of 2 Group… Two aiming-points were chosen in the Haagsche Bosch… The most serious error was made when a young and inexperienced intelligence officer of 137 Wing mixed up the two axes (NOTE: of the coordinates) of one of the aiming-points … one of the two aiming-points thus became the Juliana van Stolbergplein (NOTE: in the heart of the built-up area, on the map it says "fout richtpunt" – wrong aiming-point)… The other wing, 139, did get the correct coordinates. This wing included a Dutch squadron, 320. The squadron commander had relatives living in the Bezuidenhout and at his request was given permission not to join the operation… An Air Ministry official stated that … the standard rules for sparing civilian targets should be observed … Because of cloud cover, most aircraft of 139 Wing released their bombs through the clouds using radar (NOTE: I find this extremely doubtful. There were only two possible "radar" aids for bombing at that time. The first was H2S, but this was not carried (see the movie!) by B-25s and would have been useless anyway for several reasons, including the swamping of the indicator set screen by the ground returns. The only alternative would have been Oboe, but the B25 crews were totally unqualified for that method, which required ultra-precise flying. I conclude, therefore, that this information is incorrect). They could not see the target but had received the correct coordinates (NOTE: map coordinates at that time only made sense if you could visually compare the map and the scenery, there being no GPS). The aircraft of 137 Wing could see their (wrong) target without using radar and bombed the Bezuidenhout… When the British discovered that an intelligence officer had drawn the wrong coordinates they kept it under wraps, although the officer was court-martialled… The relevant records remained classified and inaccessible until 1972.
(END OF TRANSLATED QUOTES).
I think this is interesting and requires consideration, if we disregard the technical ("radar") error.
@t-rocket, re your second message:
Indeed I know the locality of the Z. family's house, passed by it 3 days ago... I've decided not to identify places and names in public because some people I mention (or their relatives) are still alive. As we know each other, I'll send you more detailed data privately.
Last edited:
t-rocket
Recruit
fass,
Not to get this thread too far off your topic - I only posted this because I knew this piece of film was really rare and that it did show the conditions over the target (at least for a few of the bombers). I was not excusing anything about the mission, its just that you originally posted it was a sunny day and that may not have been the case at least for the whole day.
I remember reading somewhere that all but two of the bombers were Bostons - the other two Mitchells.
The portion of the forest that was not cut and remained after the anti-tank ditch construction was used by the Germans as an open storage area for rockets, fuel and warheads. But these areas were rotated constantly. I have Dutch resistance reports telling of the locations, German batterie diaries that speak of the locations and also RAF aerial photos of rockets in the Hague forest. There were also two-three launching points situated there.
Tracy
Not to get this thread too far off your topic - I only posted this because I knew this piece of film was really rare and that it did show the conditions over the target (at least for a few of the bombers). I was not excusing anything about the mission, its just that you originally posted it was a sunny day and that may not have been the case at least for the whole day.
I remember reading somewhere that all but two of the bombers were Bostons - the other two Mitchells.
The portion of the forest that was not cut and remained after the anti-tank ditch construction was used by the Germans as an open storage area for rockets, fuel and warheads. But these areas were rotated constantly. I have Dutch resistance reports telling of the locations, German batterie diaries that speak of the locations and also RAF aerial photos of rockets in the Hague forest. There were also two-three launching points situated there.
Tracy
- Thread starter
- #89
General note to readers:
Since a week or so, t-rocket and I are "in cahoots" over the V2 rocket and I strongly recommend his excellent website. He just sent me an aerial photograph taken on Febr. 6th, 1945, showing a series of V2s in the Haagsche Bosch, out in the open. They are lined up on trailers.
@t-rocket:
1) No excuses needed! That footage was very interesting and there has never been much argument about whether this was an unfortunate mission. From the footage and from the comments of the witnesses then (my grandmother was bombed out of her house then and told me that "the sun was blocked by the clouds"), I think that we may conclude it was 6/10ths cloud that day.
2) 320 Squadron flew Mitchells at that time, note that all aircraft in the footage (so not just two) are Mitchells: twin rudder, tail gun clearly visible. The Boston would have been even more unsuitable for H2S equipment, by the way. We can definitely exclude all possibility of "radar bombing".
3) in the excellent aerial photo you sent, the V2s are nicely lined up in a cue. I would tend to conclude that these represented the batch that was going to be fired that day. Note that they are completely out in the open, without a net or tarpaulin for camouflage. They are even unpainted, whereas I have several pix where they are in camouflage paint. The Germans were always very camouflage-conscious, if a batallion should have had a billy-goat for a mascot, they would have painted the animal in camouflage colours, so why not the crown jewels such as the V2?
How about this suggestion: V2s were of course fired from the Haagsche Bosch. The wooded portion was used for short-term storage, when the rockets were camouflaged and not visible from the air. The batch to be fired that day came out into the open. That's similar to the Iraqi procedure for the Scud. Still, bombing the sites would not have been effective – destroying a batch in storage would upset the firing schedule for a couple of days, no more.
There is one report of a fighter pilot making a low-level attack on a V2 site who suddenly saw one rising up. Flabbergasted, he did instinctively shoot at it but fortunately for him (think of the fuel load!) he missed. That was really an impossible deflection shot…
@ Watanbe: I brushed up my knowledge of Australian aircraft manufacture and discovered that Fishermen's Bend also produced no less than 364 Beaufighter Mk 21s.
Since a week or so, t-rocket and I are "in cahoots" over the V2 rocket and I strongly recommend his excellent website. He just sent me an aerial photograph taken on Febr. 6th, 1945, showing a series of V2s in the Haagsche Bosch, out in the open. They are lined up on trailers.
@t-rocket:
1) No excuses needed! That footage was very interesting and there has never been much argument about whether this was an unfortunate mission. From the footage and from the comments of the witnesses then (my grandmother was bombed out of her house then and told me that "the sun was blocked by the clouds"), I think that we may conclude it was 6/10ths cloud that day.
2) 320 Squadron flew Mitchells at that time, note that all aircraft in the footage (so not just two) are Mitchells: twin rudder, tail gun clearly visible. The Boston would have been even more unsuitable for H2S equipment, by the way. We can definitely exclude all possibility of "radar bombing".
3) in the excellent aerial photo you sent, the V2s are nicely lined up in a cue. I would tend to conclude that these represented the batch that was going to be fired that day. Note that they are completely out in the open, without a net or tarpaulin for camouflage. They are even unpainted, whereas I have several pix where they are in camouflage paint. The Germans were always very camouflage-conscious, if a batallion should have had a billy-goat for a mascot, they would have painted the animal in camouflage colours, so why not the crown jewels such as the V2?
How about this suggestion: V2s were of course fired from the Haagsche Bosch. The wooded portion was used for short-term storage, when the rockets were camouflaged and not visible from the air. The batch to be fired that day came out into the open. That's similar to the Iraqi procedure for the Scud. Still, bombing the sites would not have been effective – destroying a batch in storage would upset the firing schedule for a couple of days, no more.
There is one report of a fighter pilot making a low-level attack on a V2 site who suddenly saw one rising up. Flabbergasted, he did instinctively shoot at it but fortunately for him (think of the fuel load!) he missed. That was really an impossible deflection shot…
@ Watanbe: I brushed up my knowledge of Australian aircraft manufacture and discovered that Fishermen's Bend also produced no less than 364 Beaufighter Mk 21s.
- Thread starter
- #90
Start, part 11
The Famine Winter
And now we come to what for many people has been the most traumatic episode of the war, the winter of 1944-1945, which went down into history as the Famine Winter. Of course there were marked regional differences, the South of the country (see map earlier) had been liberated and in the rural areas many people were self-supporting as regards food – farmers, of course, but in all non-urban areas (such as the one I lived in) many people had a sizeable potato-patch, a vegetable garden and fruit trees. The provinces in the North-East, like Friesland and Groningen, were not seriously affected, but the cities, particularly those in the West like The Hague, suffered heavily. The major cause was that the government in exile, comfortably ensconced in London, in an act of totally irresponsible heroism, had decided to call for a railway strike in the country. Railway workers had gone into hiding and quite logically, the Germans looked after their own interests by bringing in railway personnel from Germany. Transport for the Dutch population practically came to an end, therefore.
In that time, also before the war, people always stocked up for the winter, to "tide them over". Coal and potatoes were the most important, but beans, dried prunes, dried apples and preserves like Sauerkraut and home-made jam were quite usual. The variety of food we now enjoy even in winter was unknown then, sources of vitamins were scarce, for instance. But during the war stocking was even more important, because the food situation might become worse when winter arrived. So we had stocked some supplies in October 1944, but when we were evacuated, we left them behind.
As the winter began, the Dutch coal mines were in the liberated portion of the country, leading to a total energy crisis. From early November, there was no longer any electricity or (coal)gas. All sorts of alternatives were arranged: a raised bicycle with a dynamo (pedalling was by rotation), a little windmill driving a dynamo, and we had a carbide lamp – but carbide was also scarce because its synthesis requires a lot of energy.
For heating we had the wood-burning range in the kitchen, but the rest of the house was ice-cold, of course. One night (there was a curfew, so this was strictly forbidden!) I went with Jack and Tim to a forest, where we dug out a stump of a felled tree, a totally impossible object to handle. For days on end, I helped Mr. Z. sawing the sodden wood, then we cut the blocks up to a suitable size and piled them up near the range to dry. The winter of 1944-1945 was very cold and lasted until April, but we did not run out of wood – quite a difference with the situation in the cities!
My memories of the long evenings are mostly of "pleasant companionship", clothes were mended, news was discussed and we played games like Monopoly. And despite everything, we skated on a stretch of inundated land.
Although the house was outside the built-up area, it was still risky to go outside during the curfew but nevertheless Jack's and Tim's girlfriends often risked making a visit. The sound of footsteps in the dark was always ominous, if you were the visitor you called out your name before you were near.
As for the food situation: we queued for what seemed ages to buy our daily bread rations. The bread had a good-looking crust, but if you cut it you found a moist loose lump inside – the dough probably contained beans. Rations got smaller each month, in the end far below the minimum number of calories required for survival. If you were not self-supporting, famine threatened. We had a stock of potatoes, beans, turnip and carrots and in some of my letters I write that we had chicken or meat – possibly bartered with a neighbour who was rumoured to be a poacher. Money had lost its value, barter was the standard procedure. Once we tried sugar-beets, which tasted abominable but then found a use for making a sort of syrup to sweeten the porridge we cooked – we had some grain, which we ground up by rotation in an old coffee-mill. We were thus far better off than many other people, although we had a permanent appetite, we were never really hungry. But a widow living nearby did run out of food and we made a round of the neighbours to collect enough for her to survive.
Every now and then, a sudden craving for remembered and now unobtainable luxuries reared its ugly head, chocolate for some, tobacco for Mr. Z. But occasionally, Tim somehow (possibly by bartering for white spirit or oil through his employer) obtained an ounce of "real home-grown tobacco". Rarely have I seen such a radiant smile as then transformed Mr Z.'s face…
In the cities, the black market flourished and "hunger treks" to the country to barter jewelry and other valuables for some food began, but I never saw any. But although there was no large-scale famine in our area, there were clear signs of degradation of society. Serious illness such as scarlatina and diphtheria became increasingly frequent and medical services were minimal. If an infectious disease affected a family, a sign had to be put on the door in German, warning troops not to enter, and the entire family had to stay indoors for quarantine.
Typical of the situation was that we were affected by lice, probably through waiting in the long queues for shopping. In normal times, lice were only encountered among the lowest social class in the slums and we felt thoroughly ashamed when we were affected, but the situation was soon controlled when Tim scrounged some wood-alcohol from his employer. Soap had disappeared, we had some detergent of questionable quality and I suppose we all stank to high heaven.
As regards clothing: shoes were the biggest problem, new leather soles being unobtainable. The only option was to try and acquire a piece of an old car-tyre. For the ladies, a totally new perspective opened thanks to the paratroop landings. If one had the right contacts, one could obtain part of a parachute and from the triangular segments a blouse or dress could be constructed – with great conjuring to match the pattern to the available material. The first time that my mother made such a dress for one of the girls it had to be ironed, of course. The iron was heated on the range and at its first stroke, a ghastly silence descended as a perfect iron-shaped hole was punched out of the material… Of course we had never even heard of nylon! It was characteristic of the reigning mental resilience when nobody broke down in tears as the damage to the precious garment only became too evident. Instead, we almost fainted with laughter at the sight of my mother's totally flabbergasted face… Fortunately, with major additional conjuring and juggling the damage could be repaired with a remaining piece of parachute. The white ones were particularly favoured…for wedding dresses! Despite all hardships, people still thought of marrying!
Next instalment: an aerospace special
End, part 11
The Famine Winter
And now we come to what for many people has been the most traumatic episode of the war, the winter of 1944-1945, which went down into history as the Famine Winter. Of course there were marked regional differences, the South of the country (see map earlier) had been liberated and in the rural areas many people were self-supporting as regards food – farmers, of course, but in all non-urban areas (such as the one I lived in) many people had a sizeable potato-patch, a vegetable garden and fruit trees. The provinces in the North-East, like Friesland and Groningen, were not seriously affected, but the cities, particularly those in the West like The Hague, suffered heavily. The major cause was that the government in exile, comfortably ensconced in London, in an act of totally irresponsible heroism, had decided to call for a railway strike in the country. Railway workers had gone into hiding and quite logically, the Germans looked after their own interests by bringing in railway personnel from Germany. Transport for the Dutch population practically came to an end, therefore.
In that time, also before the war, people always stocked up for the winter, to "tide them over". Coal and potatoes were the most important, but beans, dried prunes, dried apples and preserves like Sauerkraut and home-made jam were quite usual. The variety of food we now enjoy even in winter was unknown then, sources of vitamins were scarce, for instance. But during the war stocking was even more important, because the food situation might become worse when winter arrived. So we had stocked some supplies in October 1944, but when we were evacuated, we left them behind.
As the winter began, the Dutch coal mines were in the liberated portion of the country, leading to a total energy crisis. From early November, there was no longer any electricity or (coal)gas. All sorts of alternatives were arranged: a raised bicycle with a dynamo (pedalling was by rotation), a little windmill driving a dynamo, and we had a carbide lamp – but carbide was also scarce because its synthesis requires a lot of energy.
For heating we had the wood-burning range in the kitchen, but the rest of the house was ice-cold, of course. One night (there was a curfew, so this was strictly forbidden!) I went with Jack and Tim to a forest, where we dug out a stump of a felled tree, a totally impossible object to handle. For days on end, I helped Mr. Z. sawing the sodden wood, then we cut the blocks up to a suitable size and piled them up near the range to dry. The winter of 1944-1945 was very cold and lasted until April, but we did not run out of wood – quite a difference with the situation in the cities!
My memories of the long evenings are mostly of "pleasant companionship", clothes were mended, news was discussed and we played games like Monopoly. And despite everything, we skated on a stretch of inundated land.
Although the house was outside the built-up area, it was still risky to go outside during the curfew but nevertheless Jack's and Tim's girlfriends often risked making a visit. The sound of footsteps in the dark was always ominous, if you were the visitor you called out your name before you were near.
As for the food situation: we queued for what seemed ages to buy our daily bread rations. The bread had a good-looking crust, but if you cut it you found a moist loose lump inside – the dough probably contained beans. Rations got smaller each month, in the end far below the minimum number of calories required for survival. If you were not self-supporting, famine threatened. We had a stock of potatoes, beans, turnip and carrots and in some of my letters I write that we had chicken or meat – possibly bartered with a neighbour who was rumoured to be a poacher. Money had lost its value, barter was the standard procedure. Once we tried sugar-beets, which tasted abominable but then found a use for making a sort of syrup to sweeten the porridge we cooked – we had some grain, which we ground up by rotation in an old coffee-mill. We were thus far better off than many other people, although we had a permanent appetite, we were never really hungry. But a widow living nearby did run out of food and we made a round of the neighbours to collect enough for her to survive.
Every now and then, a sudden craving for remembered and now unobtainable luxuries reared its ugly head, chocolate for some, tobacco for Mr. Z. But occasionally, Tim somehow (possibly by bartering for white spirit or oil through his employer) obtained an ounce of "real home-grown tobacco". Rarely have I seen such a radiant smile as then transformed Mr Z.'s face…
In the cities, the black market flourished and "hunger treks" to the country to barter jewelry and other valuables for some food began, but I never saw any. But although there was no large-scale famine in our area, there were clear signs of degradation of society. Serious illness such as scarlatina and diphtheria became increasingly frequent and medical services were minimal. If an infectious disease affected a family, a sign had to be put on the door in German, warning troops not to enter, and the entire family had to stay indoors for quarantine.
Typical of the situation was that we were affected by lice, probably through waiting in the long queues for shopping. In normal times, lice were only encountered among the lowest social class in the slums and we felt thoroughly ashamed when we were affected, but the situation was soon controlled when Tim scrounged some wood-alcohol from his employer. Soap had disappeared, we had some detergent of questionable quality and I suppose we all stank to high heaven.
As regards clothing: shoes were the biggest problem, new leather soles being unobtainable. The only option was to try and acquire a piece of an old car-tyre. For the ladies, a totally new perspective opened thanks to the paratroop landings. If one had the right contacts, one could obtain part of a parachute and from the triangular segments a blouse or dress could be constructed – with great conjuring to match the pattern to the available material. The first time that my mother made such a dress for one of the girls it had to be ironed, of course. The iron was heated on the range and at its first stroke, a ghastly silence descended as a perfect iron-shaped hole was punched out of the material… Of course we had never even heard of nylon! It was characteristic of the reigning mental resilience when nobody broke down in tears as the damage to the precious garment only became too evident. Instead, we almost fainted with laughter at the sight of my mother's totally flabbergasted face… Fortunately, with major additional conjuring and juggling the damage could be repaired with a remaining piece of parachute. The white ones were particularly favoured…for wedding dresses! Despite all hardships, people still thought of marrying!
Next instalment: an aerospace special
End, part 11
Last edited:
- Thread starter
- #92
- Thread starter
- #93
Start, part 12
Robot war
The winter of 1944-1945 witnessed the beginnings of Robot Warfare. It was generally known, from the German propaganda, that "Vengeance Weapons" were being developed and since the Normandy landings we knew that "flying bombs" were launched against Great Britain. The principle of the rocket was of course well-known, in the late Twenties there had been a famous movie "Frau im Mond" (the Lady in the Moon) made by Fritz Lang – with Hermann Oberth as consultant – and adventure stories about space flight had already been published. I had read about "propeller-less aircraft", in boys' adventure books and because of Mussolini's propaganda the Caproni-Campini jet aircraft was well-known to aircraft enthusiasts such as I. As late as 1943, a Dutch aircraft journal called Vliegwereld (Aviation World) was still being published, with ads by German aircraft manufacturers such as Junkers for personnel… And finally, in the occupied countries there was the German propaganda journal "Signal" (also in Dutch) where pictures of the V1 and V2 were shown. The photographs in Signal – many in colour, which was uncommon at that time – included many action pictures (genuine ones, not fakes, taken by specially trained photographers) are still famous and have been copycatted in countless books about WW2.
I discussed "fear" earlier and mentioned the hysterical soldier of May 1940. For me, the V1 was the only other source of genuine fear during the war. Possibly because it was a mindless robot; during an attack by aircraft one always had the idea that the "pilot was not aiming at you personally". I did not experience genuine fear (in contrast to being scared) during air attacks, I never fled into a shelter or cellar but always ran outside because I wanted to see what was happening – not so much out of curiosity but because I preferred taking cover outdoors to feeling like a rat caught in a trap. Facing the danger is preferable to cowering, I still think.
For the V1 I apparently developed a sixth sense: I woke up before there was anything to hear and invariably they became audible soon after. Perhaps there was an infrasound component to the V1 noise that could be sensed before the sound became noticeable, the engine of the V1 produced a truly awful and unmistakeable throaty roar at enormous volume – the best description I've read is a "monstrous motorbike without a silencer running under water".
The V1 firings were frequent (up to half a dozen per night) and they often passed right overhead, on their way from the launch sites (rumoured to be near Deelen airfield) to Antwerp. Several times I saw them flying at about 1000 feet during the daytime, passing through patchy clouds – a vision straight out of a nightmare. My loathing of the horrible things was further increased because Mary and I once returned from our visit to the baker in the early morning when a V1 passing overhead developed an engine failure, as was frequent. Clutching each other, we sought cover behind a low wall but still saw the missile stalling over a wing, returning straight towards us and crashing some 60 yards away. Of the many people that died, only few were mourned by the community: it had crashed on the house of a family of notorious collaborators… It's a bizarre experience when you look up after the enormous explosion and the view is suddenly totally different from what it was before: houses gone, fire and piles of rubble, remains of furniture – and of people, naturally…
The V2s, in contrast, were not threatening to us at all. The sign of their presence was limited to giant vertical white plumes in the clear blue frosty air, which might remain visible for half an hour or so. Soon, they assumed odd zig-zag shapes – the result of the jet stream as we now know. For me, a visual summary of the Famine Winter is still a deserted snowscape with those white plumes. Sometimes 4 plumes were visible at the same time, a few times to the East but nearly always to the West. Those were the launches near The Hague, over 100 km distant!
We somehow knew that the V1s were aimed at Antwerp and Liège. How such information reached us I have not been able to deduce. The most extraordinary example (and I am glad I can document this because it seems to unlikely) is a letter of January or February 1945 in which I write that "the V2 reaches an altitude of 60 km and a speed of over 4000 km/h". The adults attributed that to juvenile fantasy (such speeds and heights were impossible, were they not?) but these data were of exactly the right order of magnitude, of course. Also, and again completely correctly, I wrote "you do not hear the V2 coming, first there is the explosion, you are not warned by the sound of its approach". Clear evidence of supersonic speed, therefore, although of course I never witnessed a crash. Nor did I ever hear or see an actual launch taking place – the launch sites were too far away to hear anything and powered flight was so brief it would have been a matter of pure coincidence had I seen it.
Throughout that winter, the front was close by, heavy artillery fire was regularly heard to the South. The railway from Germany to the West along which we lived was of great strategic importance. Trains moved only at night, sometimes I could see flatbed cars with very large objects covered by tarpaulins – the V2s and tanks with liquid oxygen and fuel for them.
Almost weekly, very low-flying fighter-bombers (Typhoons, Mustangs) came over, strafing or bombing a small emplacement about 2 km further down the railroad or looking for targets of opportunity. I always ran outside and waved a large red handkerchief at them. And when I write "low", I mean really low, "on the deck" or "at naught feet" as the pilots said, depending on whether they were American or British… So low that the pilot's goggles were clearly visible and I swear that a few raised a hand in greeting. Certainly, some waggled their wings, a gesture whose significance cannot be misunderstood. I found that a highly emotional experience and again, the adults (who elected to stay inside!) tended to ascribe this to my imagination, but if you've flown yourself, you know how much detail you notice even at high speed and low altitude. Many aircrew in their mémoirs remember images of people on the ground who waved at them and even toasted them with a bottle…
My first serious sexual education I received from the P-51s, thanks to the alluring "pin-ups" painted on these lovely aircraft. I was not entirely sure of what these ladies were doing there, noticed that there were interesting anatomical differences in comparison to myself, but decided I'd better not ask my mother for further clarification….
German aircraft had become very scarce by then, but once I saw a low-flying Me-262 that may have visited Deelen airfield, a magnificent sight that gave me a vision of the future. Of course, my report was again met with incredulity by the adults, and I think you may perceive my frustration in this text written 65 years later…
An unforgettable treat was an ammunition train that had been strafed and continued blowing up throughout the night as a Guy Fawkes or Fourth of July spectacle some 20 miles away!
End, part 12
Robot war
The winter of 1944-1945 witnessed the beginnings of Robot Warfare. It was generally known, from the German propaganda, that "Vengeance Weapons" were being developed and since the Normandy landings we knew that "flying bombs" were launched against Great Britain. The principle of the rocket was of course well-known, in the late Twenties there had been a famous movie "Frau im Mond" (the Lady in the Moon) made by Fritz Lang – with Hermann Oberth as consultant – and adventure stories about space flight had already been published. I had read about "propeller-less aircraft", in boys' adventure books and because of Mussolini's propaganda the Caproni-Campini jet aircraft was well-known to aircraft enthusiasts such as I. As late as 1943, a Dutch aircraft journal called Vliegwereld (Aviation World) was still being published, with ads by German aircraft manufacturers such as Junkers for personnel… And finally, in the occupied countries there was the German propaganda journal "Signal" (also in Dutch) where pictures of the V1 and V2 were shown. The photographs in Signal – many in colour, which was uncommon at that time – included many action pictures (genuine ones, not fakes, taken by specially trained photographers) are still famous and have been copycatted in countless books about WW2.
I discussed "fear" earlier and mentioned the hysterical soldier of May 1940. For me, the V1 was the only other source of genuine fear during the war. Possibly because it was a mindless robot; during an attack by aircraft one always had the idea that the "pilot was not aiming at you personally". I did not experience genuine fear (in contrast to being scared) during air attacks, I never fled into a shelter or cellar but always ran outside because I wanted to see what was happening – not so much out of curiosity but because I preferred taking cover outdoors to feeling like a rat caught in a trap. Facing the danger is preferable to cowering, I still think.
For the V1 I apparently developed a sixth sense: I woke up before there was anything to hear and invariably they became audible soon after. Perhaps there was an infrasound component to the V1 noise that could be sensed before the sound became noticeable, the engine of the V1 produced a truly awful and unmistakeable throaty roar at enormous volume – the best description I've read is a "monstrous motorbike without a silencer running under water".
The V1 firings were frequent (up to half a dozen per night) and they often passed right overhead, on their way from the launch sites (rumoured to be near Deelen airfield) to Antwerp. Several times I saw them flying at about 1000 feet during the daytime, passing through patchy clouds – a vision straight out of a nightmare. My loathing of the horrible things was further increased because Mary and I once returned from our visit to the baker in the early morning when a V1 passing overhead developed an engine failure, as was frequent. Clutching each other, we sought cover behind a low wall but still saw the missile stalling over a wing, returning straight towards us and crashing some 60 yards away. Of the many people that died, only few were mourned by the community: it had crashed on the house of a family of notorious collaborators… It's a bizarre experience when you look up after the enormous explosion and the view is suddenly totally different from what it was before: houses gone, fire and piles of rubble, remains of furniture – and of people, naturally…
The V2s, in contrast, were not threatening to us at all. The sign of their presence was limited to giant vertical white plumes in the clear blue frosty air, which might remain visible for half an hour or so. Soon, they assumed odd zig-zag shapes – the result of the jet stream as we now know. For me, a visual summary of the Famine Winter is still a deserted snowscape with those white plumes. Sometimes 4 plumes were visible at the same time, a few times to the East but nearly always to the West. Those were the launches near The Hague, over 100 km distant!
We somehow knew that the V1s were aimed at Antwerp and Liège. How such information reached us I have not been able to deduce. The most extraordinary example (and I am glad I can document this because it seems to unlikely) is a letter of January or February 1945 in which I write that "the V2 reaches an altitude of 60 km and a speed of over 4000 km/h". The adults attributed that to juvenile fantasy (such speeds and heights were impossible, were they not?) but these data were of exactly the right order of magnitude, of course. Also, and again completely correctly, I wrote "you do not hear the V2 coming, first there is the explosion, you are not warned by the sound of its approach". Clear evidence of supersonic speed, therefore, although of course I never witnessed a crash. Nor did I ever hear or see an actual launch taking place – the launch sites were too far away to hear anything and powered flight was so brief it would have been a matter of pure coincidence had I seen it.
Throughout that winter, the front was close by, heavy artillery fire was regularly heard to the South. The railway from Germany to the West along which we lived was of great strategic importance. Trains moved only at night, sometimes I could see flatbed cars with very large objects covered by tarpaulins – the V2s and tanks with liquid oxygen and fuel for them.
Almost weekly, very low-flying fighter-bombers (Typhoons, Mustangs) came over, strafing or bombing a small emplacement about 2 km further down the railroad or looking for targets of opportunity. I always ran outside and waved a large red handkerchief at them. And when I write "low", I mean really low, "on the deck" or "at naught feet" as the pilots said, depending on whether they were American or British… So low that the pilot's goggles were clearly visible and I swear that a few raised a hand in greeting. Certainly, some waggled their wings, a gesture whose significance cannot be misunderstood. I found that a highly emotional experience and again, the adults (who elected to stay inside!) tended to ascribe this to my imagination, but if you've flown yourself, you know how much detail you notice even at high speed and low altitude. Many aircrew in their mémoirs remember images of people on the ground who waved at them and even toasted them with a bottle…
My first serious sexual education I received from the P-51s, thanks to the alluring "pin-ups" painted on these lovely aircraft. I was not entirely sure of what these ladies were doing there, noticed that there were interesting anatomical differences in comparison to myself, but decided I'd better not ask my mother for further clarification….
German aircraft had become very scarce by then, but once I saw a low-flying Me-262 that may have visited Deelen airfield, a magnificent sight that gave me a vision of the future. Of course, my report was again met with incredulity by the adults, and I think you may perceive my frustration in this text written 65 years later…
An unforgettable treat was an ammunition train that had been strafed and continued blowing up throughout the night as a Guy Fawkes or Fourth of July spectacle some 20 miles away!
End, part 12
GrauGeist
Generalfeldmarschall zur Luftschiff Abteilung
fass, your memoires are an amazing window to another time. Have you ever thought of putting your recollections into a book?
When I was young, I used to hear stories and recollections from family members and reading your posts reminds me of those times while at the same time, it's allowing me to see what happened in your world those many years back.
Many thanks for taking the time to share these memories with us.
When I was young, I used to hear stories and recollections from family members and reading your posts reminds me of those times while at the same time, it's allowing me to see what happened in your world those many years back.
Many thanks for taking the time to share these memories with us.
- Thread starter
- #95
@ Graugeist:
Thanks for your comments, I'm happy to share my cobwebs with you all and find that people are interested. I have occasionally considered publishing them as a book, but decided against it for several reasons. I have written two books on subjects very different from WW2 matters, plus a mass of other publications including scientific papers, and have acquired a profound distaste of publishers. Until I started this thread, I distributed a Dutch version to some personal acquaintances and perhaps I'll find a website that could serve as a more permanent repository. I've written to the BBC, but got no reply so far. I was happy to see that the search term "Personal recollections etc." was immediately picked up by Google!
@ All:
I strongly recommend a visit to t-rocket's website for a wealth of information on the V2, not just technical but also operational.
And finally, I've checked some remarks I made on radar bombing in the authoritative book "A Radar History of World War Two" by the late Louis Brown. For anyone interested in WW2 technical developments (not just radar) this is an absolute must and it's a fascinating read even if you are not an electronics expert (the technical aspects are lucidly explained).
The great debate between British and US bomber commanders was "area bombing vs precision bombing". The US had the super-secret Norden bombsight, which they regarded as a wonder-weapon permitting precision bombing. Actually, it was not markedly superior to the British bombsight, and of course secrecy is rather uncertain if you are going to lose such a bombsight soon as a result of aircraft losses over enemy territory. But very quickly, the US bombardiers found out that in Europe there is a curious phenomenon called "clouds", which combined with industrial haze and smoke screens made visual aiming impossible. The majority of bombings by the USAAF were therefore by radar, i.e. blind, and combined with the practice of bombing on a sign by the lead bombardier this amounted to area bombing instead of precision bombing. So the heated arguments during and especially after the war were senseless. No criticism is warranted if the critic does not understand military matters …
Thanks for your comments, I'm happy to share my cobwebs with you all and find that people are interested. I have occasionally considered publishing them as a book, but decided against it for several reasons. I have written two books on subjects very different from WW2 matters, plus a mass of other publications including scientific papers, and have acquired a profound distaste of publishers. Until I started this thread, I distributed a Dutch version to some personal acquaintances and perhaps I'll find a website that could serve as a more permanent repository. I've written to the BBC, but got no reply so far. I was happy to see that the search term "Personal recollections etc." was immediately picked up by Google!
@ All:
I strongly recommend a visit to t-rocket's website for a wealth of information on the V2, not just technical but also operational.
And finally, I've checked some remarks I made on radar bombing in the authoritative book "A Radar History of World War Two" by the late Louis Brown. For anyone interested in WW2 technical developments (not just radar) this is an absolute must and it's a fascinating read even if you are not an electronics expert (the technical aspects are lucidly explained).
The great debate between British and US bomber commanders was "area bombing vs precision bombing". The US had the super-secret Norden bombsight, which they regarded as a wonder-weapon permitting precision bombing. Actually, it was not markedly superior to the British bombsight, and of course secrecy is rather uncertain if you are going to lose such a bombsight soon as a result of aircraft losses over enemy territory. But very quickly, the US bombardiers found out that in Europe there is a curious phenomenon called "clouds", which combined with industrial haze and smoke screens made visual aiming impossible. The majority of bombings by the USAAF were therefore by radar, i.e. blind, and combined with the practice of bombing on a sign by the lead bombardier this amounted to area bombing instead of precision bombing. So the heated arguments during and especially after the war were senseless. No criticism is warranted if the critic does not understand military matters …
Soundbreaker Welch?
Tech Sergeant
That's sad about the death toll from the accidental bombing of the village Bezuidenhout.
It sounds like the pilots were not able to see the ground well, I thought if cloud cover was really bad, you were supposed to not drop bombs. I guess from the air, it can be hard to see what you are aiming at.
In war a lot of sad accidents happen I guess.
It sounds like the pilots were not able to see the ground well, I thought if cloud cover was really bad, you were supposed to not drop bombs. I guess from the air, it can be hard to see what you are aiming at.
In war a lot of sad accidents happen I guess.
- Thread starter
- #97
@ Soundbreaker Welch?:
Just as an aside, and irrelevant to the story itself: the Bezuidenhout was not a village, but a rather large and prestigious residential quarter of the city of The Hague. That's where I lived before we had to move from The Hague in 1942.
Indeed it seems that there was some cloud cover, but according to the information I found on the Hague Archives site, an important reason was the designation of an erroneous aiming-point. Cloud cover was a permanent nuisance to WW2 bomb-aimers in Europe, combined with industrial haze, smoke generators plus the smoke from the fires raised by the formations of aircraft that bombed earlier, of course. Blind bombing was, therefore, almost unavoidable, hence the search for radio bombing-aids by all participants: X- and Y-Gerät for the Germans, Gee, Oboe, H2S, H2X and other techniques for the Allies. But for this low-medium attack, visual aiming must have been used and in the end, everything depends on human effort. In WW2, what we now call "collateral damage" was the unavoidable result of technical shortcomings (no GPS!) and human error. It's not easy to ask your pilot for another run over the target through heavy flak because you could not see the aiming-point well if every instinct of self-preservation screams at you to get the hell out! And finally: don't forget that all these "warriors" were hardly adults, IF that...
Just as an aside, and irrelevant to the story itself: the Bezuidenhout was not a village, but a rather large and prestigious residential quarter of the city of The Hague. That's where I lived before we had to move from The Hague in 1942.
Indeed it seems that there was some cloud cover, but according to the information I found on the Hague Archives site, an important reason was the designation of an erroneous aiming-point. Cloud cover was a permanent nuisance to WW2 bomb-aimers in Europe, combined with industrial haze, smoke generators plus the smoke from the fires raised by the formations of aircraft that bombed earlier, of course. Blind bombing was, therefore, almost unavoidable, hence the search for radio bombing-aids by all participants: X- and Y-Gerät for the Germans, Gee, Oboe, H2S, H2X and other techniques for the Allies. But for this low-medium attack, visual aiming must have been used and in the end, everything depends on human effort. In WW2, what we now call "collateral damage" was the unavoidable result of technical shortcomings (no GPS!) and human error. It's not easy to ask your pilot for another run over the target through heavy flak because you could not see the aiming-point well if every instinct of self-preservation screams at you to get the hell out! And finally: don't forget that all these "warriors" were hardly adults, IF that...
- Thread starter
- #98
Start, part 13
The nadir
Until the end of 1944 the general situation was still barely tolerable, but then it became critical . The Ardennes offensive ("Battle of the Bulge") around Christmas led to widespread despair, nobody expected this to be still within the German capabilities. For instance, it was clearly evident that the German troops in our area had become distinctly third-rate and no longer had motor vehicles available to them.
On January 1st, German aircraft took to the air in very large numbers – operation Bodenplatte. Although many Allied aircraft were destroyed on the ground, German losses were very heavy and the attack was practically a Death Ride for the Luftwaffe: there were no replacements for the pilots killed and fuel was no longer available. Thereafter, German aircraft became a rare sight.
In February there was a sensational development in the family. One daughter (whose existence had never yet been mentioned) had left home to live in Rotterdam because of a conflict with her parents. Having run out of food, she had walked the 120 km from Rotterdam in the snow and now stood weeping on the porch. Again, Christian morality found a practical application: she returned to the bosom of the family – just like the Prodigal Son. For a ten-year-old, this was an impressive experience, stories from the Bible being enacted in your own circle.
Until the end of February 1945 we just managed, but then came the dreaded moment when Mr. Z. emotionally confessed that we only had food left for one week and that he did not see a solution. That was my mother's very own "Finest Hour". In the ominous silence she resolutely stood up, went to our tiny bedroom and came back with a parcel she triumphantly put on the table, saying: "I've kept this exactly for such an eventuality!". Mr Z. unwrapped the paper and revealed an incredible treasure to our astonished eyes: 4 pillow-cases and 2 sheets for a double bed, brandnew and of pre-war luxury-quality, with lace, which she had brought with her when we were evacuated – a truly brilliant act. That was the most emotional event during the Famine Winter, all around the table (including Mr. Z.!) laughed and wept, embraced and kissed, overjoyed as unexpected wealth turned up. It is almost impossible to believe now, but 4 pillow-cases and 2 sheets meant that 8 people would not starve…
The next day, my mother and Mrs Z. borrowed a small cart and started walking to a village on the Zuider Zee coast, where the Z. family had relatives and a large circle of acquaintances – farmers and fishermen. That was a journey of some 50 km, they spent the night about halfway, where a married daughter of the family lived. Of course, the women had to do this, the men would have been at risk of being picked up by the Germans – dispensations and all. In no time they had found a family with children that wanted to marry – despite everything, life still went on – and thus they returned after a couple of days with a hefty sack of potatoes, smoked bacon, smoked eel and a bag of wheat. On the return journey, they were strafed but unhurt and the food had not been confiscated – the pro-Nazi Dutch militia was especially notorious in that respect.
Near the very end of the occupation, we twice received white bread baked from Swedish flour, which had been acquired and transported under the auspices of the Red Cross. This "Swedish bread" is still legendary, in people's memories (including my own) the slices were enormous and tasted like the richest of cakes. A false memory many people have that "the bread was dropped by parachute", probably this is caused by confusion with the food droppings in the West by Allied aircraft (Operation Manna) shortly before the war ended. It is not possible to determine exactly how many people died as a direct consequence of the Famine Winter, but the number usually given is about 20.000. Even months after the war, sequelae made numerous victims.
The economy
This shows that amazingly, there was a remnant of the economy that still functioned after a fashion.
Although trains and road traffic had disappeared (for civilian purposes that is, for their war effort the Germans tried to keep transport going somehow), the Swedish flour arrived by ship in the port of Delfzijl under the protection of the Red Cross, then it was transported by boat across the Zuider Zee and distributed in various stages to the local bakers, all under close guard.
In Mid-April, i.e. before the West of the country had been liberated, my aunt in The Hague (who had lost everything in the Bezuidenhout disaster, my grandmother lived with her and her husband) saw an ad in a sort of news bulletin that was published irregularly – most curious because paper was practically unobtainable and there was no electricity for a printing-press, perhaps it was a hand-made stencil? The ad was for administrative personnel for the Employment Council. My aunt applied (during the 2 km walk she had to rest four times, that's how weak she was) and started working on May 1st, 1945. In other words: before the end of the war, preparations were already made for reconstruction afterwards and work started even before Germany had capitulated, while commerce and industry were still non-existent or in ruins! This should also teach ardent feminists that even married women could opt for a professional career in those ancient "male-dominated" times… Another surprising fact: during the Famine Winter, with trade and industry at a complete standstill, salaries were paid as usual. Obviously, firms then had very considerable financial reserves, a lesson modern managers might consider… My father worked for a large insurance firm and insurance firms did well during the war: when consumables became scarce or unavailable, many people for the first time had money to spend on all sort of insurance – remember that there had been a decade-long depression before the war!
End, part 13
The nadir
Until the end of 1944 the general situation was still barely tolerable, but then it became critical . The Ardennes offensive ("Battle of the Bulge") around Christmas led to widespread despair, nobody expected this to be still within the German capabilities. For instance, it was clearly evident that the German troops in our area had become distinctly third-rate and no longer had motor vehicles available to them.
On January 1st, German aircraft took to the air in very large numbers – operation Bodenplatte. Although many Allied aircraft were destroyed on the ground, German losses were very heavy and the attack was practically a Death Ride for the Luftwaffe: there were no replacements for the pilots killed and fuel was no longer available. Thereafter, German aircraft became a rare sight.
In February there was a sensational development in the family. One daughter (whose existence had never yet been mentioned) had left home to live in Rotterdam because of a conflict with her parents. Having run out of food, she had walked the 120 km from Rotterdam in the snow and now stood weeping on the porch. Again, Christian morality found a practical application: she returned to the bosom of the family – just like the Prodigal Son. For a ten-year-old, this was an impressive experience, stories from the Bible being enacted in your own circle.
Until the end of February 1945 we just managed, but then came the dreaded moment when Mr. Z. emotionally confessed that we only had food left for one week and that he did not see a solution. That was my mother's very own "Finest Hour". In the ominous silence she resolutely stood up, went to our tiny bedroom and came back with a parcel she triumphantly put on the table, saying: "I've kept this exactly for such an eventuality!". Mr Z. unwrapped the paper and revealed an incredible treasure to our astonished eyes: 4 pillow-cases and 2 sheets for a double bed, brandnew and of pre-war luxury-quality, with lace, which she had brought with her when we were evacuated – a truly brilliant act. That was the most emotional event during the Famine Winter, all around the table (including Mr. Z.!) laughed and wept, embraced and kissed, overjoyed as unexpected wealth turned up. It is almost impossible to believe now, but 4 pillow-cases and 2 sheets meant that 8 people would not starve…
The next day, my mother and Mrs Z. borrowed a small cart and started walking to a village on the Zuider Zee coast, where the Z. family had relatives and a large circle of acquaintances – farmers and fishermen. That was a journey of some 50 km, they spent the night about halfway, where a married daughter of the family lived. Of course, the women had to do this, the men would have been at risk of being picked up by the Germans – dispensations and all. In no time they had found a family with children that wanted to marry – despite everything, life still went on – and thus they returned after a couple of days with a hefty sack of potatoes, smoked bacon, smoked eel and a bag of wheat. On the return journey, they were strafed but unhurt and the food had not been confiscated – the pro-Nazi Dutch militia was especially notorious in that respect.
Near the very end of the occupation, we twice received white bread baked from Swedish flour, which had been acquired and transported under the auspices of the Red Cross. This "Swedish bread" is still legendary, in people's memories (including my own) the slices were enormous and tasted like the richest of cakes. A false memory many people have that "the bread was dropped by parachute", probably this is caused by confusion with the food droppings in the West by Allied aircraft (Operation Manna) shortly before the war ended. It is not possible to determine exactly how many people died as a direct consequence of the Famine Winter, but the number usually given is about 20.000. Even months after the war, sequelae made numerous victims.
The economy
This shows that amazingly, there was a remnant of the economy that still functioned after a fashion.
Although trains and road traffic had disappeared (for civilian purposes that is, for their war effort the Germans tried to keep transport going somehow), the Swedish flour arrived by ship in the port of Delfzijl under the protection of the Red Cross, then it was transported by boat across the Zuider Zee and distributed in various stages to the local bakers, all under close guard.
In Mid-April, i.e. before the West of the country had been liberated, my aunt in The Hague (who had lost everything in the Bezuidenhout disaster, my grandmother lived with her and her husband) saw an ad in a sort of news bulletin that was published irregularly – most curious because paper was practically unobtainable and there was no electricity for a printing-press, perhaps it was a hand-made stencil? The ad was for administrative personnel for the Employment Council. My aunt applied (during the 2 km walk she had to rest four times, that's how weak she was) and started working on May 1st, 1945. In other words: before the end of the war, preparations were already made for reconstruction afterwards and work started even before Germany had capitulated, while commerce and industry were still non-existent or in ruins! This should also teach ardent feminists that even married women could opt for a professional career in those ancient "male-dominated" times… Another surprising fact: during the Famine Winter, with trade and industry at a complete standstill, salaries were paid as usual. Obviously, firms then had very considerable financial reserves, a lesson modern managers might consider… My father worked for a large insurance firm and insurance firms did well during the war: when consumables became scarce or unavailable, many people for the first time had money to spend on all sort of insurance – remember that there had been a decade-long depression before the war!
End, part 13
- Thread starter
- #99
Start, part 14
The war ends
In the very last week of the war, some German soldiers settled in the yard and in the kitchen, where they started eating bread and large lumps of cheese. My mother could not refrain from commenting that the food actually belonged to us, and as this sounds pretty much the same in Dutch and German, tension ran high. Quite unusually, Mr. Z. raised his voice and told my mother to "shut up, otherwise the b… will shoot us all". Not only did my mother shut up, the soldiers recognized the Voice of Command and did so too… Remarkably, the soldiers left their weapons on the porch, so I had the opportunity to examine a Panzerfaust close-up – the instructions for use, illustrated by pictures, were printed on the casing. Truly amazing that they should allow this…
On April 17th, we were liberated but I nearly did not make it – twice! I was reading a book in the garden, waiting for the arrival of the liberators, when I heard a whistling noise followed by a thud. Knowing what this meant, I went inside to inform the others that there was an unexploded shell somewhere in the garden, and as usual I was not believed. A little sleuthing showed that (again,as usual…) I was right, because a heavy mortar grenade had landed 6 yards behind me. Some time later, I got bored with all this shilly-shallying of the warriors and decided to take a look at what was going on – if anything. Crawling under cover behind the hedge, I stuck my head around its corner and was treated to a full magazine from a German machine-gun still positioned near the railway crossing 200 yards away. Deciding that discretion was the better part of valour, I scored a record backwards belly-crawl for juveniles that is probably still unbeaten.
Liberation took place an hour later or so, without anything noticeable happening. A lady living next door excitedly announced that the "English" (they were actually Canadian) had arrived in the village, and that was all. Surprisingly, my memories of the actual liberation have a stale flavour – we went to see the troops in the village centre and saw some "Kraut floozies" being subjected to the ignominy of having their head shaved, which I felt debased the lecherous actors even more than the floozies… Flags were waved, some dignitary held a speech of which we did not catch more than an occasional platitude and the national anthem must have been sung, but there was nothing remotely like the wave of ecstatic relief I had witnessed when the landings took place 7 months earlier. Three weeks later the German troops in the West capitulated, followed over the next few days by several additional capitulations all over Europe, but we hardly noticed these and the subsequent festivities seemed a bit artificial. This feeling of anticlimax may sound odd, but many memoirs of the veterans also mention it.
The food situation improved rapidly, we received biscuits and tins of food ("pork beans", "meat vegetables") from military supplies. Once I got a piece of chocolate from a soldier but, being nicely educated, I would rather have dropped dead than begging for it.
Some 1½ months later we were allowed to return to our village, after mines, ammunition and wrecks had been cleared. We said goodbye to the Z. family – but stayed in contact ever since. The village looked eerie, there was no major destruction but all sharp turns and corners in the (unpaved) roads had very tall ridges of earth on the outside of the turn, thrown up by caterpillar tracks. In our house, a carton of syrup had leaked and attracted a horde of ants and I commented "they must have had a party during the Famine Winter". For some reason, furniture from all over the village had been collected in the schools, buildings of the farmers' co-operative etcetera, stacked to the ceiling. That was a sort of super-birthday party, everybody being busy retrieving their belongings, calling out excitedly when they found yet another piece, to be delivered to their house later on. In the months afterwards, there were several stories of people seeing their own furniture in somebody else's house, so honesty did not always prevail… We retrieved practically all our furniture, but my toys and books were all lost.
The young widow we had stayed with before the Famine Winter had snared a Canadian suitor and probably went to Canada, because we could no longer stay with her and temporarily moved in with the parents of a boy of my own age whom I had befriended in the meantime. His father was a highly ingenious person who could arrange almost anything. In August he was already driving his car, which had been in hiding during the war – he may have bartered fuel for radio parts as he had been a dealer in radios – and in that month he took us to The Hague over practically deserted roads. We visited Grandma and collected some belongings we had left with the farmer acquaintance three years earlier when we left The Hague. Surprisingly, I have no recollection of a dramatic reunion with my father and brother after almost a year's absence.
School started again in September and we worked extra hard to catch up. For months afterwards we played with bags of gun propellant, making rather spectacular rockets. Until the mid-Fifties we used gas capes issued to the troops (but never used) as protection against mustard gas for raincoats. To counter "profiteering" from war deals, an interesting measure was introduced: every family got only 10 guilders' allowance that had to suffice for a whole week – I still have no idea how that worked….
Unless one had relatives living in Indonesia – then a Dutch colony and occupied by Japan in 1941 – one hardly ever thought about the war in the Pacific. It was only when the papers reported in August that Hiroshima and Nagasaki had been destroyed that we became aware of the magnitude of that conflict. The revolutionary atomic bomb was accepted with equanimity, but later on, when the series of tests at Bikini was held, some people started to worry that these atomic reactions might run out of control. Even some scientists were not too sure of themselves when the hydrogen bomb was tested a couple of years later… In 1946 we had our first post-war summer holiday, when there was the most severe thunderstorm I ever witnessed and many people indeed were afraid that this was caused by the A-bombs.
Continued in next post)
The war ends
In the very last week of the war, some German soldiers settled in the yard and in the kitchen, where they started eating bread and large lumps of cheese. My mother could not refrain from commenting that the food actually belonged to us, and as this sounds pretty much the same in Dutch and German, tension ran high. Quite unusually, Mr. Z. raised his voice and told my mother to "shut up, otherwise the b… will shoot us all". Not only did my mother shut up, the soldiers recognized the Voice of Command and did so too… Remarkably, the soldiers left their weapons on the porch, so I had the opportunity to examine a Panzerfaust close-up – the instructions for use, illustrated by pictures, were printed on the casing. Truly amazing that they should allow this…
On April 17th, we were liberated but I nearly did not make it – twice! I was reading a book in the garden, waiting for the arrival of the liberators, when I heard a whistling noise followed by a thud. Knowing what this meant, I went inside to inform the others that there was an unexploded shell somewhere in the garden, and as usual I was not believed. A little sleuthing showed that (again,as usual…) I was right, because a heavy mortar grenade had landed 6 yards behind me. Some time later, I got bored with all this shilly-shallying of the warriors and decided to take a look at what was going on – if anything. Crawling under cover behind the hedge, I stuck my head around its corner and was treated to a full magazine from a German machine-gun still positioned near the railway crossing 200 yards away. Deciding that discretion was the better part of valour, I scored a record backwards belly-crawl for juveniles that is probably still unbeaten.
Liberation took place an hour later or so, without anything noticeable happening. A lady living next door excitedly announced that the "English" (they were actually Canadian) had arrived in the village, and that was all. Surprisingly, my memories of the actual liberation have a stale flavour – we went to see the troops in the village centre and saw some "Kraut floozies" being subjected to the ignominy of having their head shaved, which I felt debased the lecherous actors even more than the floozies… Flags were waved, some dignitary held a speech of which we did not catch more than an occasional platitude and the national anthem must have been sung, but there was nothing remotely like the wave of ecstatic relief I had witnessed when the landings took place 7 months earlier. Three weeks later the German troops in the West capitulated, followed over the next few days by several additional capitulations all over Europe, but we hardly noticed these and the subsequent festivities seemed a bit artificial. This feeling of anticlimax may sound odd, but many memoirs of the veterans also mention it.
The food situation improved rapidly, we received biscuits and tins of food ("pork beans", "meat vegetables") from military supplies. Once I got a piece of chocolate from a soldier but, being nicely educated, I would rather have dropped dead than begging for it.
Some 1½ months later we were allowed to return to our village, after mines, ammunition and wrecks had been cleared. We said goodbye to the Z. family – but stayed in contact ever since. The village looked eerie, there was no major destruction but all sharp turns and corners in the (unpaved) roads had very tall ridges of earth on the outside of the turn, thrown up by caterpillar tracks. In our house, a carton of syrup had leaked and attracted a horde of ants and I commented "they must have had a party during the Famine Winter". For some reason, furniture from all over the village had been collected in the schools, buildings of the farmers' co-operative etcetera, stacked to the ceiling. That was a sort of super-birthday party, everybody being busy retrieving their belongings, calling out excitedly when they found yet another piece, to be delivered to their house later on. In the months afterwards, there were several stories of people seeing their own furniture in somebody else's house, so honesty did not always prevail… We retrieved practically all our furniture, but my toys and books were all lost.
The young widow we had stayed with before the Famine Winter had snared a Canadian suitor and probably went to Canada, because we could no longer stay with her and temporarily moved in with the parents of a boy of my own age whom I had befriended in the meantime. His father was a highly ingenious person who could arrange almost anything. In August he was already driving his car, which had been in hiding during the war – he may have bartered fuel for radio parts as he had been a dealer in radios – and in that month he took us to The Hague over practically deserted roads. We visited Grandma and collected some belongings we had left with the farmer acquaintance three years earlier when we left The Hague. Surprisingly, I have no recollection of a dramatic reunion with my father and brother after almost a year's absence.
School started again in September and we worked extra hard to catch up. For months afterwards we played with bags of gun propellant, making rather spectacular rockets. Until the mid-Fifties we used gas capes issued to the troops (but never used) as protection against mustard gas for raincoats. To counter "profiteering" from war deals, an interesting measure was introduced: every family got only 10 guilders' allowance that had to suffice for a whole week – I still have no idea how that worked….
Unless one had relatives living in Indonesia – then a Dutch colony and occupied by Japan in 1941 – one hardly ever thought about the war in the Pacific. It was only when the papers reported in August that Hiroshima and Nagasaki had been destroyed that we became aware of the magnitude of that conflict. The revolutionary atomic bomb was accepted with equanimity, but later on, when the series of tests at Bikini was held, some people started to worry that these atomic reactions might run out of control. Even some scientists were not too sure of themselves when the hydrogen bomb was tested a couple of years later… In 1946 we had our first post-war summer holiday, when there was the most severe thunderstorm I ever witnessed and many people indeed were afraid that this was caused by the A-bombs.
Continued in next post)
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- Thread starter
- #100
(Conclusion)
Permanent effect?
In how far did the war permanently affect us? Especially: how did it affect my generation, children being supposed to be particularly sensitive to trauma?
( Note that I emphatically exclude here those who suffered personal losses or were persecuted! Only decades later did it become known that people who returned from the camps were scandalously treated – individually and by the Dutch government.)
As I wrote earlier, children are probably much more resilient than generally assumed, and with calm guidance can cope with anything within reasonable limits. The idea of "counselling" was unknown after the war and in the circle of my acquaintances nobody needed it: despite the stress of 5 years of occupation, violent events, loss of property and the hardship of the Famine Winter, everybody I knew simply got busy picking up the thread of normal life. In 1953, the province of Zeeland and neighbouring areas were inundated with heavy loss of life, and many survivors have later stated that they reacted in the same manner. It's quite possible that people (and children!) got tougher and more independent during the war and for many, fate was ordained by God, you simply had to bear it. The loss of some property was accepted as "all in the game and we're lucky that we made it", as in the case of my uncle, aunt and grandmother.
On the other hand, many people had discovered that they were much more capable than they had ever thought and successfully meeting challenges was often a source of intense satisfaction. None of the adults or children I knew, or got to know later on, showed signs of what we now call posttraumatic stress syndrome. I myself have never had a single nightmare about the war, not even about the V1, the thing I detested most of all.
The children of pro-Nazi collaborators will also have suffered. During the war, they were avoided by everybody who was not pro-Nazi and after the war they tended to be stigmatized. I know only one such case from my own experience: in my teens I had a friend whose father had died on the Eastern Front fighting for the Germans. At school, he was treated without any discrimination, we were not at all interested in what his father had done and the only thing that irritated me was that his mother always began to tell apologetic stories about the past. When we were called up together later for military service, his father's dark past was not a problem, he eventually went for a career in the army…
For me personally, the war never became a period to be forgotten, on the contrary. Soon after, information became available, which I indeed did want to know. For instance, I followed the reports in the papers on the war crimes trials in Neurenberg with interest and for the next six decades continued to read about the history and ordnance of that time.
I think the war did teach me valuable things, for instance, I consciously appreciate "small blessings" that are now taken for granted and hate wasting. That may not be an exclusive result of the war, however. Perhaps it was also conditioned by the long time afterwards when things were scarce: prosperity only returned in the late Fifties. Living in a rather strict backwater also became irritating as I grew up, the first thing I did when I came out of the Army and moved to Amsterdam to study was to subscribe to the unknown riches of the library there and borrow a whole volume of a journal I had only known by reputation until then. That's what I mean by "small blessings".
What has definitely remained is my unconditional rejection of pacifism and a thorough suspicion of all messianic political ideologies. But it is difficult to separate what personality traits and views are innate and what has been influenced by one's individual history!
End
So, to return to the beginning of this story: that's how I became interested in "warbirds". Since then, I've occasionally seen several of them at airshows and commemorative events. For instance, I once saw the Battle of Britain Memorial Flight (Spitfire, Hurricane and Lancaster) in formation approaching over one of our wide rivers in the light of a late summer afternoon – a wonderful sight and sound that was quite emotional.
And what I wonder now is: am I the only Methusalah on this forum? Of course the veterans are not of a generation that grew up with computers, but my generation did, so is there anyone else out there?
Permanent effect?
In how far did the war permanently affect us? Especially: how did it affect my generation, children being supposed to be particularly sensitive to trauma?
( Note that I emphatically exclude here those who suffered personal losses or were persecuted! Only decades later did it become known that people who returned from the camps were scandalously treated – individually and by the Dutch government.)
As I wrote earlier, children are probably much more resilient than generally assumed, and with calm guidance can cope with anything within reasonable limits. The idea of "counselling" was unknown after the war and in the circle of my acquaintances nobody needed it: despite the stress of 5 years of occupation, violent events, loss of property and the hardship of the Famine Winter, everybody I knew simply got busy picking up the thread of normal life. In 1953, the province of Zeeland and neighbouring areas were inundated with heavy loss of life, and many survivors have later stated that they reacted in the same manner. It's quite possible that people (and children!) got tougher and more independent during the war and for many, fate was ordained by God, you simply had to bear it. The loss of some property was accepted as "all in the game and we're lucky that we made it", as in the case of my uncle, aunt and grandmother.
On the other hand, many people had discovered that they were much more capable than they had ever thought and successfully meeting challenges was often a source of intense satisfaction. None of the adults or children I knew, or got to know later on, showed signs of what we now call posttraumatic stress syndrome. I myself have never had a single nightmare about the war, not even about the V1, the thing I detested most of all.
The children of pro-Nazi collaborators will also have suffered. During the war, they were avoided by everybody who was not pro-Nazi and after the war they tended to be stigmatized. I know only one such case from my own experience: in my teens I had a friend whose father had died on the Eastern Front fighting for the Germans. At school, he was treated without any discrimination, we were not at all interested in what his father had done and the only thing that irritated me was that his mother always began to tell apologetic stories about the past. When we were called up together later for military service, his father's dark past was not a problem, he eventually went for a career in the army…
For me personally, the war never became a period to be forgotten, on the contrary. Soon after, information became available, which I indeed did want to know. For instance, I followed the reports in the papers on the war crimes trials in Neurenberg with interest and for the next six decades continued to read about the history and ordnance of that time.
I think the war did teach me valuable things, for instance, I consciously appreciate "small blessings" that are now taken for granted and hate wasting. That may not be an exclusive result of the war, however. Perhaps it was also conditioned by the long time afterwards when things were scarce: prosperity only returned in the late Fifties. Living in a rather strict backwater also became irritating as I grew up, the first thing I did when I came out of the Army and moved to Amsterdam to study was to subscribe to the unknown riches of the library there and borrow a whole volume of a journal I had only known by reputation until then. That's what I mean by "small blessings".
What has definitely remained is my unconditional rejection of pacifism and a thorough suspicion of all messianic political ideologies. But it is difficult to separate what personality traits and views are innate and what has been influenced by one's individual history!
End
So, to return to the beginning of this story: that's how I became interested in "warbirds". Since then, I've occasionally seen several of them at airshows and commemorative events. For instance, I once saw the Battle of Britain Memorial Flight (Spitfire, Hurricane and Lancaster) in formation approaching over one of our wide rivers in the light of a late summer afternoon – a wonderful sight and sound that was quite emotional.
And what I wonder now is: am I the only Methusalah on this forum? Of course the veterans are not of a generation that grew up with computers, but my generation did, so is there anyone else out there?
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