From: Ronald Gillen (gillen@nconnect.net)
Date: Mon Apr 16 2001 - 13:12:40 PDT
A Boy's Life in Holland 1940-1945
by Lucien Hut
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Excerpted from "No Longer Silent" - World-Wide Memories of the Children
of World
War II.
Section One of Six
War in Holland Begins
The beginning of the war in Holland occurred on May 10, 1940. At 6:00 in
the morning or
thereabouts, my middle brother woke up because of the sound of
airplanes. He went to
the bedroom of my mother and father and said, "Mommy, Mommy there are
airplanes in
the sky and there are quite a number of them." So my mother and father
rose up and,
indeed, there was a heavy drone of planes. Intuitively, they turned on
the radio and the
first thing we heard was that the Germans had invaded Holland and we
were at war. As
we looked out, we could see that the planes were dropping hundreds of
parachutists who
then took up strategic locations in our city. A lot of people went
outside and watched the
sky and didn't know what to do. We had no idea what war was about.
During the next four days more planes and troops and then tanks and
heavy equipment
followed. The Germans invaded all of our borders. By Tuesday, May 14,
they gave
Rotterdam an ultimatum to surrender or be bombed. News of our
capitulation reached the
enemy in time but, nonetheless, heavy bombardment started about 1:45 in
the afternoon.
Rotterdam had been designated an "open city" (as later was the case with
other cities
such as Paris and Rome) and I don't know why the Germans bombed. That
was against all
codes of warfare. But they did a lot of damage. They bombed in a pattern
so that they
could take the center of the city and then spread out. The bombing
stopped about half a
mile from where we lived in the north. Though they only bombed Rotterdam
one time, it
was in great force.
Because we lived in the north of the city, we went outside and witnessed
the first of the
bombardment. I can still see the Heinkels, and hear the sound of the
bombs, whistling
down. Short whistling meant real danger, while long whistling meant the
bombs were
further away and we were not in danger. This whistling-siren sound was
terrifying and the
accuracy of the bombs was amazing. The Germans were able to pinpoint
their targets
almost perfectly. Thus, they left all of the railroads intact and also
the structures of
almost all of the buildings belonging to them.
For at least three days the inner city was pitch black because of all
the smoke and dust.
You couldn't see anything even though the bombing lasted for only a few
hours.
Holland officially surrendered on May 15, just five days after the first
planes had
appeared. About 40,000 people lost their lives and the heart of
Rotterdam was in
shambles. We were especially sorry that our beautiful cathedral, the
Sint Laurens-Kerk,
had been bombed. Shortly thereafter, a big sign appeared in front of it:
"Under the
Protection of the Führer." About 1980, it was rebuilt. The cities of
Hamburg, Bremmen and
Keulen gathered moneys and laborers to restore it, as a "Love Gift of
Germany."
On May 14, at the beginning of the bombardment of Rotterdam, a lady came
walking along
(she had sort of a German accent, now why that was I don't know) and she
asked if she
could just stay in our house while the attack was going on. Once in, she
directed us to sit
on the bed and place cooking pans on top of our heads. If something
happened, our heads
would be protected. I remember the whole family sitting there. We just
got hysterical,
laughing. It was such an odd sight to see somebody with such a thing as
a turkey pan on.
When the first scare and raid were over we decided that this whole thing
was ridiculous
and the lady went on her way. Actually, what she had wanted was to take
the
mattresses off the beds and lie under them.
After the bombardment, I recall going to the streets. One in particular,
Jonker Frans
Straat (Young Gentleman of France Street) was totally in flames. Most
stores and almost
all other things were burning. Owners whose stores were not yet in
flames but who
believed they soon would be (flames were coming from all directions)
decided to open
their doors so people could get whatever they wanted and carry it off. I
saw people with,
you name it, they had it. That was an oversight since many of those
stores actually never
did burn and the owners tried to get their merchandise back. But that
was almost
impossible.
On another occasion right after the bombardment, in one of the churches
that was
bombed out, the organ was miraculously still working and there was a
German officer
playing Bach preludes and fugues. It touched me very deeply. I mean it
was a real wreck
of a church but he played the organ. Now you can't tell me that man was
altogether bad.
He made distinctions, too, as did everyone. Every country has its good
and bad.
For Holland, the bombing of Rotterdam was the first major event in the
war. However,
because the Germans were already in Poland, because England and France
had declared
war on Germany on September 3, 1939, and because Holland had been
previously
infiltrated by many well-informed and well-directed pro-German people,
we had known it
would only be a matter of time before we would be invaded. We had been
continually on
"red alert." Furthermore, when the Germans invaded Holland, they also
attacked Belgium
and France.
Though we had known war was coming, we really didn't know what to do.
There was no
such thing as trying to get our basements full of groceries. But there
was no actual panic
that I could detect. Our Army (Leaer), Air Force (Luchtmacht) and
Marines (Mariniers)
were heavily armed and ready and did engage in some fighting. But they
couldn't stop the
Germans.
German war materials and man power were much too advanced and they were
able to
implement Blitzkrieg, "lightning war." So when Rotterdam was bombed that
was sort of the
end, or the beginning of the end. It was rather useless to fight back.
We were bewildered,
and we didn't know what to think about it, how long it would take. We
didn't know what
was in store.
Queen Wilhelmina and the Royal Family weren't surprised by the attack,
however. On May
14, before the aerial bombardment, they fled to England. I believe they
were picked up by
an English submarine. This was a source of resentment for many Dutch
citizens. For
others, opinion was divided as to whether they should have stayed in
Holland or should
have warned the Dutch people. Nonetheless, from the safety of England,
Queen
Wilhelmina made broadcasts to the Dutch citizens, many times, to fight
for the war effort.
I remember those vividly, just as I remember, when I was kid of six or
seven, standing on
the street for an hour or more to catch a view of the queen coming by.
She was almost
like a religious symbol. (My mother held her in very high esteem.) But I
always found it
rather strange to give so much emphasis to waiting and waving flags for
a four-second
view.
Though as ordinary people we were not able to do much to prepare
ourselves, the NSB
(pro-German people, i.e. National Socialist Movement or Nationaal
Socialistische Beweqing)
had been well informed. One part of their dirty work entailed filling
the second of two fuel
tanks on our G.1 planes with water. Once in the air, trying to ward off
the Germans, our
double-tailed planes actually fell out of the sky when the second of the
fuel tanks became
engaged. Another common NSB activity was to disable bridges. Indeed, the
NSB did many
things to generally help the German Army establish itself in Holland.
About My Family
I was born in Rotterdam, March 12, 1931, to Berend Louis Hut and Johanna
Maria
Quellhorst Hut. My parents had also been born in Rotterdam so we were
real
Rotterdammers! I also had two brothers: Jan (pronounced "Yun") about 6
years older and
Leen (pronounced "Laine") 4 years older.
Our original surname was Von Hutten which means "the protectors," or
"care takers" in
German. Basically, it came from northern Europe to Holland during the
great period of
religious upheaval between the Catholics, Lutherans and others (c.
1500-1600). "Hut" is a
very well-known name in northern Holland. There are literally hundreds
of Huts, much like
"Johnsons" or "Smiths" in the United States.
My father worked for the opera house (De Grote Schouwburg) as stage
manager and
designer. He was in charge of making sure that stage settings and
costuming balanced
perfectly with musical historiography and the choreography of all operas
that were
presented. He and the seven people he directed made much of the
furniture. Costumes
were made elsewhere to their specifications.
He was always gone, often in the middle of the night, because he had to
be at the opera
when there were performances. Though he could alternate with another
person, he felt he
himself must be there. If something went wrong, the manager was needed.
He had a lot of
stories about the different opera companies and their peculiarities,
especially in terms of
what they needed for the stage.
My mom attended almost all of the operas. I went sometimes and sat there
listening. My
parents were always playing opera at home so we had a good background in
it, much to
the dismay of my brothers who didn't like that type of music at all.
Nonetheless, I was
very fond of it and think it may have awakened the germ cell of my own
musical intuition
and prepared me for later life.
My brothers were sort of "with the time" -- whatever was popular then,
that's what they
sang. I remember them always yelling out, "Mexicalli Rose Stop Crying,"
and those old
tunes from the Kilima Hawaiians, whereas I would listen to piano and
harpsichord music. I
was very different from them so we had a battle about the radio. There
was no television
of course, but there were many radio stations.
In our home, we always had many guests because my mother was very
outgoing and
entertaining, and made great coffee! Appointments or formal invitations
were unknown.
Neighbors just came, took off their shoes, sat a spell, visited and had
coffee. Many, many
nights, though my parents did not drink, our guests would have a stiff
shot of borreltje
(gin). But nobody ever got drunk in our home.
Drop-in visiting was common in Holland. (Though very well-situated
people and businesses
had phones, I don't think it would have made much difference if we had
had one.) In our
home, my mom was the conductor, so to speak. She was a real intellect
and was also
extremely witty so she usually set the tone for all conversations.
People always had a lot
of fun.
I can't really recall a whole lot about my earlier childhood except that
we moved around a
lot and dwelt in Rotterdam Noord, one of the poorer sections of the
city. There was
Crooswijk which was really poor! So we were not the poorest, but we
certainly didn't have
electricity, telephones or cars. Mostly it was still horse-drawn wagons.
Before the war
broke out in Holland, there were periods when it was hard to make a
living. We certainly
didn't live rich.
I remember we had one spigot of cold water. So in order to take a bath,
once a week, we
walked to a little convenience store called a water stokery where there
was a great big
tank of boiling hot water (if you managed to arrive before everyone
else). In order to
bathe, you had to carry two buckets full. I remember that one bucket
cost three cents, a
loaf of bread five cents, and a chocolate Dixie cup from Jamin, two and
one-half cents.
The storekeeper, Mr. Klippel, kept a ledger and we paid at the end of
each week.
One time I lost a gilder (about 25 cents) en route. It was all of the
money we had so my
family and I went looking for it, desperately, in the snow. Seeing our
plight, our neighbors
soon helped in the search, but it was all to no avail.
We had nothing, we were really poor. Our only possibility for obtaining
some more money
was to go to the lommerd (pawn shop). Among other things that we hocked,
I especially
remember my parents' golden wedding rings and my father's one good suit.
Sometimes we
were able to buy things back, but most often our treasures were gone
forever.
We took our baths in the kitchen! - in a big, gray galvanized metal
bucket called a teil
("tile"). We each bathed on a different day, using handmade soap of lard
and lye that
stank like crazy, and we always carried our own water. One pair of socks
and underwear
had to last for the bath week. If anything became soiled earlier, my
mother would say,
"Throw it up to the ceiling. If it sticks, I'll wash it." Bath day was a
great event!
After the war years, my dad installed a shower outside in the yard in a
little cabin and the
whole neighborhood came, for a quarter, to take a shower. His was the
first shower on
the street. It's really true. There were other bath houses located about
16 blocks away,
but they were generally for arbeiders (lower class laborers) and you had
to wait in line.
Some city blocks never did have a shower.
Since we didn't have electricity, we had gas lights. They used "socks"
(or mantles) which
had to be attached to gas jets within the light fixtures. When the gas
came into them,
they provided a sort of enclosure in which the gas could burn and give
off light. They had
to be ignited with matches and were very fragile, being made out of a
silky woven mesh
material. If you touched or moved them or did anything at all, they
would go ka-poot in no
time, and fall apart. Nonetheless, we put them on and they burned, but
they were
miserable.
Our neighbor, Willem Langeveldt, had an old French upright piano. I
continued to be very
interested in music, and I loved Mr. Langeveldt. So in 1943, he became
my first "teacher,"
though he himself knew how to play just a little bit
and have fun with it. (He was nowhere near a
piano teacher.) Nonetheless, he worked with me
and let me practice at his house as long as I did
the dishes, changed diapers, went for groceries
and so on. In 1944, Mr. Langeveldt's brother Koos,
who was an accomplished pianist, also advised me.
Later that year we rented a piano for our home. In
1945, I began lessons with Tom de Boer under
whom I learned the Haydn Symphonies. The cost
of one lesson was one potato! And I had to keep
that potato well hidden en route.
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