Remembering the stories
I count myself pretty lucky to have parents that lived to tell me stories of WWII. My mom is one of the greatest story tellers I have ever met. She can include so many details and emotions in each story that you almost feel like you were there yourself. I can't imagine not having grown up around my parents stories of growing up during the wartime years in Holland. I think it's what has made me so against violence for peace and war in general. For me Remembrance Day has always been about remembering those stories and what it must have been like for my mom and dad and their families struggling to survive in such a time of uncertainty. My mom is from Arnhem and can personally recount the horrifying disaster of the British dropping their paratroopers over her city and into the line of fire of the waiting Germans. Not many people can tell you what that event sounded like. She tells many riveting stories of her demolished city being liberated by the Canadians and of her family returning to their house so far beyond repair that the weeds were growing up through the floor boards. My favorite story includes both our historic family farm and her brother, I'll try to do it justice.
My uncle Ber, one of only a few people allowed to remain in Arnhem after the evacuation, spent months with only 1 other person (I can't remember if he was a cousin or neighbour) at my great grandsfather's farm. Every chicken, cow, horse, rabbit, drop of milk and grain was recorded by the SS troops and they often came to the farm to claim the "excess" to feed the German troops. My uncle always kept an "illegal" calf in a dugout covered with boards and grass in the middle of the pasture. The calf was blind, hungry, cold and was constantly crying for it's mother. There was not enough food to feed the two young men let alone a growing calf. Every time the SS came to inspect the farm and take their share my uncle had to disapper into the dugout with the calf so it could suck his hand to keep it from crying and being found. If that calf had been found it have been the end of their lives. They nailed boards smaller than a square foot to the walls in the upper reaches of the barn and put rabbits on them. Rabbits are afraid of heights so they wouldn't jump down and they got fat very fast because they couldn't move. I can't imagine what other tricks of survival these two came up with but most importantly they did survive. When Arnhem was finally liberated my uncle was given a piece of chocolate by the troops and he said it was the best thing he had ever tasted in his entire life.
Someday I hope to record as many of my mother's stories as possible. I think the closer we come to losing them the closer we come to forgetting how atrocious war really is.
My uncle Ber, one of only a few people allowed to remain in Arnhem after the evacuation, spent months with only 1 other person (I can't remember if he was a cousin or neighbour) at my great grandsfather's farm. Every chicken, cow, horse, rabbit, drop of milk and grain was recorded by the SS troops and they often came to the farm to claim the "excess" to feed the German troops. My uncle always kept an "illegal" calf in a dugout covered with boards and grass in the middle of the pasture. The calf was blind, hungry, cold and was constantly crying for it's mother. There was not enough food to feed the two young men let alone a growing calf. Every time the SS came to inspect the farm and take their share my uncle had to disapper into the dugout with the calf so it could suck his hand to keep it from crying and being found. If that calf had been found it have been the end of their lives. They nailed boards smaller than a square foot to the walls in the upper reaches of the barn and put rabbits on them. Rabbits are afraid of heights so they wouldn't jump down and they got fat very fast because they couldn't move. I can't imagine what other tricks of survival these two came up with but most importantly they did survive. When Arnhem was finally liberated my uncle was given a piece of chocolate by the troops and he said it was the best thing he had ever tasted in his entire life.
Someday I hope to record as many of my mother's stories as possible. I think the closer we come to losing them the closer we come to forgetting how atrocious war really is.
posted by Nancy O at 9:49 am
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