My grandfather has always told us a lot of stories. Every time we met he had something new to tell us, either about his genealogy, his time in the military, that one time he met someone somewhere, something he read online. Any thing you could think of, he told us everything. But the stories from his childhood were sparse.

My grandfather was born in the Netherlands in 1935, and thus grew up during the war. From there, we haven't heard too many stories, at least not that I can recall. Sadly, he passed away on April 27th. So from now on, we won't be able to hear him tell his stories. 

But we are able to read some of them. I'm not sure if he wrote this for his own sake and for our sake, so that his stories would live on, or if it has been published somewhere. But I was given a booklet where my grandfather talks about his time during the war, thoughts, feelings, things that happened with his family and so on. Some of these stories really tugged on my heartstrings, especially with what's going on in the world right now. So I thought I'd share bits and pieces with you all. And although you don't know my grandfather as I person, I hope his stories can bring you something as well. Whether it's a thought, a feeling, or perhaps inspiration. 

He was a wise man, and his stories deserves to get told to more people. 


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A Meeting 
I have lived in Sweden since 1957. Some years ago I was in a car on my way to Holland. On the road in Denmark, not long before the ferry to Germany, a Dutch car passed me. Sitting in the car were two Dutch ladies. On the ferry their car happened to be right in front of mine, and I approached them in Dutch. During the conversation it was revealed that one of the ladies originally came from Hardegarijp where I spent the winter 1944-45 during the war. She had been a schoolmate of mine. Believe me when I say, the world is small.

A Schoolmate
Around 1940, during the breakout of the war, I was going to a montessori kindergarten. At first, I walked to school with my mother. Later, I must have been about six years old, I walked alone. On my way to school I always picked up a friend, and we walked home from school together as well. Suddenly one day, he came out wearing a yellow star on his dark blue jacket. I can not recall how I reacted, but I thought it was a bit strange. 

I continued to pick him up until one day I rang the doorbell and no one answered. I rang the bell a couple of more times, suddenly a small window in the door opened. It was his mother, she told me in a low but firm voice to never pick up my friend again and to quickly leave. I was chocked by the way the acted and the reaction has stayed with me. 

I never say my schoolmate again after this day. The reason for that is not difficult to guess.

 

A vacation trip, 1943/1944
Somewhere between Amersfoort and Harderwijk, our train got shot by low flying planes. The pilot must have been aware that it was not a military train since it didn't have the flatbed wagons with machine guns that military trains used. First the pilot flew over so the train driver could stop the train, the passengers could jump off. 

Older people who were not as fast sought refuge underneath the wagons, the rest of us ran as far away as possible to seek refuge in ditches. Shortly after, the plane came back and shot at the train. The locomotive was hit and the steam boiler exploded. The brake, that worked with steam pressure, came loose and the train began moving. The result was a bloodbath for those underneath the wagons.

Christmas 1944
During Christmans 1944, a local German women's organization put together, in all simplicity, a pleasant Christmas party. Despite the suffering the Germans were going through as well. Everyone got a small gift and festive meal with lighted candles. It was a Christmas party we had never experiences since we came from a country where you mainly celebrate Saint Nikolaus on December 5th. 

Emigration
As the war had affected my personality, as a "teenager", it could also affect me in another way. A feeling of insecurity, displeasure and shame hindered me from engaging in any deeper, serious relationship. During this time, many young people decided to emigrate. Even I saw this as a possible solution and decided to emigrate, to get away from the psychological burden. Correctly understood: I wanted a "clean slate".

I have done well in my current home country. I was quickly cured from these pressed feelings from war, and my employer's gave me assignments that quickly removed any insecurity in a way I could only have dreamed of had I stayed in Holland. 

I later started a business that our son is now running.

Now I have lived abroad for more than 50 years, I have a lovely wife, children and grandchildren and I'm very pleased. Despite everything, I have been very fortunate, therefore there are no limits to my grief when I think of all those who have been exposed to the violence of war.