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.