DEFIANCE AND SABOTAGE

German propaganda poster urging Dutchmen to join their forces

Failed because of the superior German attitude towards the Dutch

 

Gouda (top right) on the direct invasion route to Rotterdam

 

It did not take long for the Germans to round up all the Foreign Nationals and, early one morning, they came and took my two brothers away – giving them time only to pack a bag.  They told me that I would be next, as soon as I was old enough.  Ted and John were taken to an Internment Camp at Schoorl, in Northern Holland in transit to a camp near Breslau in Poland.  John spent the next five years there, but Ted was released with the warning that he would also be sent there in due course.

This was not to happen as we spent the next few years dodging the Germans.  John had been the bread winner and so we had been deprived of a source of income.  I decided to apply for a job with a company who made buses for the Dutch Railways.  I reported to the foreman who told me that I had to pass a test before I could be employed.

He took me to a long bench, fitted with several vices holding a long drive shaft and he gave me a scriber, a long metal ruler, a centre punch, a hammer and a cross-cut chisel.  My task was to make an oil groove along the length of the drive shaft.  I spent three days on this test and suffered a bloody left thumb but the foreman was pleased with the result and I got the job.

My first job was bending the tubular steel to make the frames for the seating on the buses and later, to make the fittings that would be necessary for the proper working of the automatic doors.  Very shortly afterwards, the Germans took over the factory to manufacture and repair military vehicles.

I thought it a good idea to slow down the progress on the German vehicles, if I could, and I saw an opportunity to start a one man saboteur action.  I could trust all my workmates except the doorkeeper and so I had to be wary of him.  One of my better moves was to damage a machine tool which would take two months to replace.  Another way of slowing them down was to alter the measurements on some of their drawings so that the finished components would be too big or too small to be of use – delaying their progress again.

Welding was a major part of the construction process, but the welders only had an oxygen bottle on their trolleys and the acetylene had to be accessed from a plant outside via valves around the site.  I was responsible for maintenance of the plant and for the correct mixture of calcium carbide and water in the acetylene supply.  This was another opportunity to delay production by increasing the amount of calcium carbide in the water.  The plant walls were made of compressed straw in case of an explosion, and that is just what they got.  Mind you, I was the one who had to repair the damage and get the acetylene supply going again!  It soon became obvious that I would be in serious trouble if the Gestapo became suspicious – especially being a Brit.  I hate to think what they would have done to me.

 

I had to jack in the job, even though this would mean there was no money coming in again.  However, help was at hand; one day, a gentleman from the International Red Cross came to see us and told us that he was able to offer the British citizens a monthly loan so that they were not forced to work for the enemy.  My brother and I quickly accepted this offer, which had to be repaid after the war – although we were never asked to repay it.  It was a life saver and I have no idea how they organised it with a War on.

One day, I received a Post Office Giro envelope containing a note asking me to meet someone at a house in town.  My curiosity got the better of me and I went.  On arrival at the house, I found the door ajar and I went in.  The place was empty and I went upstairs and, in the front bedroom, I found a Bible on a table.  As I looked at it, a man appeared in the doorway; he seemed to know all about me and, in conversation, he asked me if I was interested in joining a resistance group to perform tasks that would release more mature men from some of the minor jobs.  I agreed and he told me I would have to swear allegiance to Queen Wilhelmina.  He then told me to go home and I would be contacted if and when required.

The jobs we had to do were cleaning guns, manning road blocks and observation posts to note German movements in and out of town, weapons training and instruction in street fighting.

As the War went on, food became harder to get, so sometimes I would get on my bike and cycle into the countryside to buy milk from the farms.  On one such occasion, on my return home along a narrow dyke, I was confronted by a German armoured vehicle.  I had nowhere to go and no choice but to stop.  The Officer, in a grey leather coat, held up his hand to stop me.  I was searched but was carrying nothing suspicious, so my personal items were returned to me, although they kept my papers and the soldiers took three of my six bottles of milk.

The vehicle had broken down and they had no radio communications so the Officer gave me a note and an address in Gouda to get assistance.  I hated to do it but I had no choice as he had my papers and my name and address.  The following morning a gefreiter (corporal) came to the house and brought my papers back with two cigarettes.  None of the family smoked, so they ended up in the dustbin.

Ted and I had several safe houses, around the town, where we stayed at times; one of mine was a sweet shop run by a lady with three daughters.  Her husband had been taken away by the Germans and sent to a camp somewhere in Germany.  One of her daughters worked in the hospital which had both Allied and German wounded servicemen as patients.  I used to collect her from the hospital and often chatted with our wounded (and also with the German wounded, to avoid suspicion) whilst I waited for her.

OUTBREAK OF HOSTILITIES

Egbert “Dutchie” Hughes – A Life at War

The following story is as told to me by Egbert “Dutchie” Hughes and represents his personal memories, as told to me, from birth to the end of the War:

On the morning of 10th May 1940, I was awoken by the drone of heavy bombers and the rattle of machine gun fire.  This could only be dog-fighting between the modern German fighters and the antiquated Royal Dutch Air Force in their ancient bi-planes.  I later learned that 65 of the 140 strong Dutch Air Force planes had been destroyed on this first day of fighting.

looked out of the window and noticed a lot of Dutch military activity; I got dressed and went down to speak to the soldiers and ask them what was happening.  Thewasy told me that Germany had invaded The Netherlands and that heavy fighting was going on in some areas.  German paratroops had landed in all the strategic areas such as the Ports, airfields and even the grounds of the Royal Palace in The Hague.  However, the Royal Family had already fled to England, via Zeeland, and would establish a Government in Exile there.

Reporting the news to the British People

The London Evening Standard - 10th May 1940

 

After five days of heavy fighting, the Dutch Military authorities decided to surrender because of the heavy loss of life that had already taken place and to prevent any further unnecessary bloodshed.  On 15th May 1940, General Henri Winkelman signed the Dutch Capitulation documents.  However, this was not before the Luftwaffe received the order to stop bombing and Rotterdam received a serious pounding and many civilians and Dutch and German troops were killed in the fighting.

During the fighting, the sky was filled with smoke and the smell of burning paper; the sky was full of bits of burning paper.  Thousands of people fled from the battle areas, mainly on bicycles, and escapees from the burning city of Rotterdam gravitated towards Gouda.  My mother took in 19 refugees; the ladies slept in our beds and the remainder – including us – slept on the floor.

The next morning, a Dutch Army vehicle stopped outside our door.  I went to see and it was laden with soldiers, all in a state of shock, one of them was crying and shaking like a leaf.  I got a glass of water and held it to his lips, but he was shaking so much, he spilled most of it and his teeth were rattling against the glass – I don’t know what happened to them.

A few days later, I was standing on the pavement and heard the sound of a heavy vehicle; I heard a German tank come round the corner, with many marching soldiers singing their marching songs.  I took an instant dislike to their jackboots and their awful helmets.  They came to a halt and started knocking on doors asking for their water bottles to be filled.  I think they had been told to be friendly towards the Dutch people, because they were not hostile.

They went on and assembled in the Market Place; some of them started to take over buildings such as schools and warehouses, and the Officer in charge settled himself in the Hotel de Zalm in the Market Square.  The Germans wasted no time in exerting their authority – posters and signposts appeared everywhere, telling us that the penalty for disobeying German orders would be death.

At some point, after the invasion, I returned to school, but one day a German teacher arrived – probably to promulgate some German propaganda – and I made my resentment noticeable.  I decided to leave school and took a day course in engineering at the Technical College; later, I changed to evening classes but this soon became impossible because of the curfew imposed by the Germans.

Image © London Evening Standard 

BLITZKRIEG ON NEUTRAL HOLLAND

Part of the philosophy of Blitzkrieg is that there is no need to declare war; this gives the aggressor the tactical advantage whilst the build up to it is a psychological assault on the nerves of the victims.  In the same twisted system of logic, the fact that the nations under attack are declared neutrals is immaterial. And this is how an Anglo-Dutch family was dragged into the Second World War.

On the morning of 10^th May 1940, German forces moved into the Netherlands, Belgium and Luxembourg.  Their intention was to draw the French and the British Expeditionary forces deep into Belgium, away from the Ardennes and the airfields on the Dutch coast which the Luftwaffe needed as a springboard to attack England and to harass Allied shipping in the English Channel.

The Dutch Forces were little more than a nominal defence force with no tanks, few artillery pieces and only limited numbers of armoured cars andhe word.  The Dutch Air Force was limited to only about 140 antiquated aircraft, almost half of which were destroyed on the first day of the invasion.

The German assault was rapid but it met with considerable resistance.  The Hague was well, and courageously, defended against an assault by German paratroops, foiling the German attempt to seize the Dutch Government in the initial attack and heavy casualties were inflicted on the German troops who tried to seize the airfields at Ypenburg and Ockenburg.  But, stiff as the resistance was, the Dutch were ill equipped and unprepared to take on the might of Nazi Germany.  Queen Wilhelmina and her Government escaped to England, where they set up a Government in Exile.

In Rotterdam, up to 900 civilians were killed and 25,000 houses were destroyed in the bombing which had been concentrated on homes rather than defences or military targets.  Whilst negotiations for surrender were going on, the Luftwaffe bombed the city heavily, resulting in the previously mentioned carnage.  The Germans had an easy victory – but there was still resistance.

 

General Henri Winkelman (Centre),

just after signing the Dutch capitulation on 15th May 1940

 

©Bundesarchiv, Bild 146-1969-097-17 / Hausen, v. / CC-BY-SA

 

THE VERY BEGINNINGS

His father, Edward Gerard Hughes, was born in Whitehaven, Cumberland (now Cumbria) in 1878 and his mother, Margaretha Stijns-Hughes, was born in Maastricht, Holland in 1888.  They were connected to the bulb growing industry in Spalding, Lincolnshire and travelled frequently to Holland.  In fact two of their four children were born there.

Edward Gerard Hughes

 

Margaretha Stijns-Hughes

 

Egbert himself was born on 27^th October 1926 at No 12 Het Amerikaant Je (meaning the little American Indian) in Gouda, Holland and was delivered by his Dutch Grandmother; he was the youngest of the four.  They moved to No 1 which was known as “The Point” as the house was on a sharp corner about fifty metres from the River Ijsel, where it was an active port with landing stages for the barges.  They lived right opposite the Schuttelaar coffee roasting plant and loved the deliciously overpowering aroma.

They lived right over a Kroeg (pub) but a very busy one that was frequented by sailors and was very rowdy on a Saturday night.  Of course Egbert had no memory of that.  When he was three years old, his father went out to buy some tobacco and was never seen again, leaving his mother with four children and very little money.  There were no benefits in those days but there was a charity which handed out food to the needy and they relied quite heavily on it.

They moved to a single storey rented property which had a garden and a ditch which led into a lake; he and his brother Ted had a raft which they floated down to the lake and spent their time swimming and fishing.

Later they moved to another house close to where Egbert was born and he seems to have had a happy childhood enjoying all the usual pastimes and sports with a normal group of friends.

In the dark days immediately before the outbreak of World War II, the British Consul advised his mother to return to England where the family would be relatively safe from the uncertainty caused by the looming clouds of war.  However, she believed that Holland would remain neutral – as they had done during the Great War.

In Egbert’s words: the Germans put paid to that idea as they invaded Holland in May 1940 and rounded up all the undesirable aliens (in this case British subjects).  This meant that his brother John was arrested and taken away to a transit camp at Schoorl in Northern Holland and on to a prison camp near Breslau in Poland where he spent the rest of the war.

Egbert and his other brother Ted were told that they would receive the same treatment when they were old enough under the terms of the Geneva Convention.  However, they spent the rest of the war dodging the Gestapo and becoming part of a young Resistance group known as “For Netherlands’ Freedom” and later as part of the Interior Battle Forces which became very active after the failure of Operation Market Garden and the Arnhem debacle.

Egbert received a Certificate, a Resistance Badge and a personal letter of thanks from Prince Bernhard for his activities during his time in the Resistance.

 

Personal letter of thanks from Prince Bernhard

 

Certificate of Service in the Dutch

Binnenlandsche Strijdkrachten

(Interior Forces, which were the
formalisation of the Dutch Resistance) 

 

Badge awarded to all members of

The Dutch Resistance

 

Copyright on all pictures Egbert Hughes 

INTERESTING PEOPLE

Egbert Hughes - Gouda, Holland - May 2014

During the course of my blogging about WW2 I have come across many people whose own stories are every bit as fascinating as the people I write about but don't qualify to be included in my blog because they were never members of 304 Squadron.  This was a Polish Squadron that caught my attention because one of their bombers crashed close to the house where I was born.

My first subject married the widow of one of the Polish pilots I wrote about and he gave me so much help, documentation and advice about one of my own characters, that his story got pushed to one side but simmered on the back burner until I began to realise just what a fascinating story it was.

There have been others like him and they will make up the entire contents of this blog, which I hope will slowly build up to be as successful as my other one.  Meanwhile, the story of Egbert Hughes will build up here.

At 87 years old (soon to be 88) he looks like everyone's favourite uncle.  But he has had a lifetime of experience that most of us will never know.  It would be a shame not to tell his story.