Bevrijding van Holland

Liberation of Holland - Lest We Forget By Frances Ravensbergen Hilvers Written 50 years after the liberation of Holland on May 5, 1995.

I still remember VE Day May 5, 1945. I was 5 years old then. I was standing in front of our home in Rijnsburg, looking toward a bedroom window where my sister, Anna was, because she was sick in bed. I guess she didn't see the allied airplanes coming toward us (although she must have heard them). They were flying very low and all the people in the street, including myself, waved and cheered with hankies in our hands. That day and into the evening everyone was cheering and dancing in the street (doing the hokey pokey, etc) and I wondered why everyone was happy because I didn't know what freedom meant. Also we were never allowed outside after dark because of the Germans' curfew, so I figured we were in trouble. And I remember the food-drop, the planes that dropped the food. Dad brought some home for us too and it tasted good, even chocolate bars. But it made my stomach feel sick because we weren't used to that kind of food. During the war we had been hungry; once in the night when I was little, I heard myself crying for food. I was crying for Mom not to let the others eat my food, but was embarrassed because I knew others were hungry too. One day, Anna and I were walking along the road to Katwijk and a Canadian truck pulled over and offered us a ride, so we climbed into the back of the truck and sat on the blankets. I didn't understand what they said to us but they sure were kind to us and friendly. Earlier during the war, my Mom and I had walked the same road to Katwijk and Germans were standing along the bridge and they also had their post there beside the bridge. I can still see them standing there with their guns, high boots and helmets on. We had to walk over the bridge past those Germans and I ran as fast as I could. Germans scared me, even in my dreams. I was always running away from them. I dreamed that I would trip and fall, then I'd wake up, my heart beating. During the war, we often had bags of sand in our house against the windows so the bullets and shells wouldn't fly in. We were often all dressed up to go out at night if in case we suddenly had to leave. We had a shelter bunker behind our house made of sand and tunnels in it and we would hide there. There were a lot of bombings. The church in Katwijk was also bombed; also the bridge over the canal. After the war was over, I wondered where all the Germans had gone, and the tanks, trucks… not one to be seen any more. I couldn't figure that out then. And we started to get food I had never seen or tasted. I remember one day all the children under 5 years of age would get a banana. I didn't get one, because I was a little over 5. But I had never seen or eaten one so I didn't know what I would miss. I remember asking Mom all the time, "What are these Mom?", every time I saw a new or different kind of food. During the war, we also went to the soup kitchen for food and I remember standing in line with Mom waiting for our turn. Everyone had to bring their own pan or pot. After the war, we visited the bunkers in the dunes in Katwijk and I was afraid because a German might still be in there. There was also an accident that I remember, some children had been playing and a land mine exploded from the war. The children couldn't be identified so people figured at night when everyone had come home then they would know who they were. We also visited the cemetery where all the Canadians are buried who gave their lives so we would be free from war and oppression. I'll always be grateful for their gift, but I feel sorry for their loved ones they left behind - their families who lost a son or daughter. The war years - the way I remember it.

Many thanks to Catherine Parayil for sharing this story of her familiy and giving me permission to share this on my website. Lest we forget.