Henry Thuijs
The following account was published in "The Liberator", between the 19th September and 14th November 1945.
THE HELL OF ARNHEM.
The diary of an Arnhem Family during the sensational September days in 1944.
Sunday, 17 September 1944.
Twice the air-raid warnings is given during High Mass, this is going to be a disturbed day! When church is over, we say: "If this were only the last anxious Sunday of the war!"
When towards twilight, on September 2nd, the Deelen airfield is bombed, we think we have gone through our worst ordeal, but no at about two o'clock several people come back from town spreading the news that the Willemskazerne is on fire. Also the Coehoornkazerne. Meanwhile the air-raid sires go off again and we hear bombs dropping in the distance. Everybody is nervous and frightened.
By five [two?] o'clock there appear swarms and swarms of English and American planes overhead. We see parachutes unfolding with men and baskets dangling underneath. They are beautifully coloured red, petrol?, orange, yellow, white, khaki, and slowly they descend over Arnhem and its surroundings.
Our neighbours over the way get telephone messages about landings near Wolfheze, Heelsum and Oosterbeek. The rumour spreads that the 'Tommies' are approaching, they are said to be near the Utrecht road, on 'Klingelbeek'. People living in the neighbourhood have already had English cigarettes, real tea and chocolate. Everyone is glad and relieved that with so little bloodshed or fighting we are at last in English hands and consequently free from German oppression. We still hear the guns in the distance, but no longer so clearly. The Germans seem to offer little resistance. A pity we have no electricity, and are unable to listen in to the news over the wireless now. Twilight approaches, darkness descends, and night sets in. We are nourishing high hopes. Fortunately we have still some candles left. Candlelight is not a bad substitute for electricity for a few nights. From time to time we go outside, wondering whether there are already some 'Tommies' near.
Monday, 18 September 1944.
We are up with the lark. The town seems still on fire. A few Germans are driving past in a tearing hurry. We hear heavy gun-fire coming nearer and nearer. All sorts of alarming rumours are being spread, that the English have reached the Rhine bridge, that the Germans are still on this side of the river, that the main Allied Forces are still in Nijmegen, etc, etc. We don't believe all we hear, but work hard all day long. During the day it appears that Arnhem is by no means captured by the English. It has not been such a simple matter after all. On the contrary, the English and their Allies must have got into trouble, somehow.
During the night we hear the roaring of the guns, the whistling of innumerable grenades [shells] and the rattling of machine-gun fire. It makes a dreadful noise. We do not get a wink of sleep. The fire in Arnhem seems to have spread, there is a red glow hanging over the town. We dare not go there, though we were without bread, yesterday, still are.
Tuesday, 19 September 1944.
In the early morning the first groups of people who have been turned out of their houses by fire and artillery are leaving the town and coming uphill, past our house. Refugees from the firing line near Oosterbeek and the Utrecht road join them. A number of people from 'Lombok' tell us that the English captured their part of the neighbourhood twice, but that it is now again in German hands. One thing is certain, we hear gunfire on all sides coming closer and closer.
On the opposite side of the road the Germans are busy constructing a battery on the outskirts of the Zijpendaal wood. Telephone lines are laid criss-cross, over and along the road. At ten o'clock the guns go off for the first time, a never-to-be-forgotten moment. Six or seven shots are fired in a few seconds, everything in the house shakes and the window-panes rattle. A moment afterwards we hear the explosions in the distance. It's hell. We go down into the cellar, convinced that this is the end. The Germans tell us that their artillery won't do us any harm. The guns have range of eight kilometres.
At half past four in the afternoon, just like yesterday and the day before, there are again hundreds and hundreds of English and American planes overhead. The guns on the other side of the road are strafed, and the fighters dive down on the German positions. It's nothing but fire and bullets, rattling of machine-guns, and roaring of guns around us.
The noise suddenly dies down and all is quiet. For about a quarter of an hour no incident, than again swarms and swarms of planes, distinctly English now. Paratroopers are coming down, lots of them. It's a splendid sight, the weather is lovely.
Towards seven o'clock in the evening the Germans take away their guns from across the road. Thank God! We are out of hell.
Wednesday, 20 September 1944.
We have had some sleep, for the first time after three nights. The inner town is still on fire. An ever increasing number of people are coming uphill to the Hoogkamp from Oosterbeek. They are put up here in empty houses or billeted on small families. A hurriedly established committee provides for the most elementary wants of the refugees. The greatest difficulty is that we have no gas, no electricity, no water.
Thursday, 21 September 1944.
Nothing has changed yet. Gunfire, bombardments and attacks from the air, by day and night. We are getting used to all this, almost.
Meanwhile the town is still ablaze. The fire is chiefly raging in the neighbourhood of the bridge, where the Germans destroyed a large number of houses on the pretext that they wanted a wider field of fire. The Rhine bridge, Arnhem's pride, is still intact, or so they say. Partisans have managed to remove explosives and prevented the bridge from being blown up.
Friday, 22 September 1944.
In the afternoon we hear that the bridge has been destroyed after all. By an air attack, we presume.
Saturday, 23 September 1944.
Posters announce that Arnhem must be evacuated. Everyone has to leave the town before Monday evening, 8 o'clock. Friends of ours from the Frans Halslaan come to us to arrange going to Apeldoorn together. We have got a cousin living there, but we do not yet want to go. It's so hard to leave your house and furniture and everything that has gradually become dear to you. Moreover, Apeldoorn is 26 kilometres from here. We make up our minds to stay as long as possible. The exodus starts very soon. It is a sad sight to see all those people leaving the town and their homes. There are friends of ours among them, with small children, and prams full of luggage, bicycles with parcels and bags, and all kinds of carts.
The weather is unsettled and everything has a very disconsolate aspect. In the meantime Arnhem is still besieged. Heavy attacks follow one another. We cane hear everything clearly, but we have no idea which side is the winner. The Allied troops must have met with unexpected difficulties.
The stream of refugees going in the direction of Apeldoorn is steadily increasing. We are seriously thinking of joining them. But where shall we go?
On the other side of the road, in the Zijpendaal garden, the Germans are placing more guns, and when at last they go off it makes a dreadful noise. We can hardly bear the din, it shakes our nerves. There is a lot of firing by night.
Sunday, 24 September 1944.
We have a serious talk on our situation. There are a good many German positions and guns in our neighbourhood and on no account do we want to expose our children to street-fighting, tank-attacks, etc. The terrible noise of the guns is nerve-racking, moreover.
In the afternoon my husband suddenly has a brainwave. He knows a summerhouse in Warnsborn, not very far from here, discovered it some time ago, as a matter of fact, when he was gathering mushrooms in the neighbourhood.
Off he goes at once with one, with one of our neighbours, and after an hour comes back with the keys. Tomorrow morning we move. Somewhat reassured and less anxious about the future we go to bed.
Monday, 25 September 1944.
Our bicycles and Koosje's doll's pram, and the pram of our neighbours serve as means of transport. In between the heavy showers we carry our things to 'The Refuge'. [1] From the very start the co-operation with our neighbours is greatly satisfactory and leaves nothing to be desired.
At 3 o'clock in the afternoon we lock up the house, and depart for 'The Refuge', carrying our last loaves in a basket. It goes to my heart to leave so much behind. Shall we ever see our house again? What will it look like then, we wonder. Will it be heavily damaged?
We have got to walk three quarters of an hour, approximately. After some time it starts to rain and very soon the rain is coming down in sheets. We have got our mackintoshes on, but what with the luggage and the bad road, the expedition is not exactly a pleasure trip.
At last we come to the moor, and the pram promptly gets stuck in the mud, but we carry on. With might and main we push the pram uphill and finally reach 'The Refuge'.
Tuesday, 26 September 1944.
Our first awakening in strange surroundings.
After breakfast everyone gets his job for the day: wood-cutting, potato-digging, potato-peeling, etc, etc. Boer, the owner of the summerhouse, who lives on a farm quite near calls and welcomes us on his property. He offers us milk from his cows and we may also fetch our water on his farm.
We have soon adapted ourselves to our new surroundings, the children are bragging about their adventures and the general feeling in the camp is excellent. Co is camp-father and I am camp-mother, we receive all requests and complaints.
Thursday, 28 September 1944.
We have reported at the evacuation-post at Schaarsbergen. We have got to have coupons and food. Our boys go for a walk with Mrs. Holla and come back with all kinds of splendid things that have belonged to the English, such as parachutes, and parts of uniforms. The children are frightfully excited about it. All the things are put in safe keeping.
Friday, 29 September 1944.
Since yesterday we have nine guests. This is what happened late last night. A man came and asked for Co, my husband. Outside a whispered conversation was held and what I gathered from it was that nine paratroopers were hidden in the wood quite near. Naturally we wanted to help them as much as we could, since they had been ready to sacrifice their lives for our liberation. So, we arranged that we should have some food ready for them every night. Two of the paratroopers were to receive the pan in the dark, somewhere on the outskirts of the wood.
Yesterday this ceremony took place for the first time. My husband carried the pan, Jan Holla went with him to act as an interpreter. Andre is now itching to take his turn in taking the food.
Saturday, 30 September 1944.
During the day two people of the Red Cross at Schaarsbergen called on us to enquire after the dead body of an English soldier which we found in the woods. My husband went with them and the corpse was buried near telephone-post 58. One of the men said a few prayers in English. The clothes of the Englishman, who was dressed as a sailor, were examined, but nothing was found which might serve as a clue to his identity. Nico made a cross out of an ammunition-case bearing the words: 'Here lies an unknown English soldier. 30 September 1944'. The dead man wore a ring of little value, with 'Egypt' engraved in it. [2]
In the evening Andre took the pan to the 'Tommies', and made their acquaintance. He stayed with them for some time and enjoyed practicing his English. To both parties the half hour meant a welcome break in the daily round.
Sunday, 1 October 1945.
At three o'clock in the afternoon Tom was walking on the outskirts of the wood in the direction of the village, when suddenly three foreign soldiers with loaded revolvers came out of the thicket and motioned him to be silent. Tom whispered, "I'll go and fetch my father". At that moment Andre and Geert joined them. They knew Andre and all sat down among the thickets to spend half an hour together, talking and laughing, and smoking their inevitable cigarettes.
Monday, 2 October 1945.
The weather is splendid, but it is rather cold. There's a lot of activity in the air. In the afternoon my husband went to Arnhem to have a look at our house, and what we had expected for some time had happened. The Germans have broken into our house. They have made a mess inside and several things are missing. We shall have to put up with this injustice, it cannot be helped. Tomorrow we are going to try and rescue Andre's study-books.
Tuesday, 3 October 1944.
It is raining cats and dogs. We get up early, for we want to go home, and get some of our things out of the house. When Andre and I arrived there we found everything in disorder, and the first thing we saw was that our rabbits had been stolen. We took as much as we could carry and rode to and fro between Arnhem and 'The Refuge'. Meanwhile it rained hard. On our way home we saw a stream of evacuees on the Schelmscheweg, extending beyond the reach of the eye. They have come from Velp and were ordered to go to Ede. It was getting dark and there was still no break in the procession. We could hardly bear the sight of it, so much misery, so much disconsolateness, and then to add to this, the roaring of the guns in the distance. At six o'clock Andre went home once more to get the last things. The Germans turned him out of the house without any comment. Andre is furious.
Thursday, 5 October 1944.
The weather is fine. We have many visitors today. A friend came to warn us that the Germans intend to use our bakery. My husband set out on his bicycle and found the whole house [shop] in an awful mess. Resolutely he took charge of the bakery, the best thing he could do under the circumstances. 'Der Herr Unteroffizer' in command, seeing that the whole thing couldn't be in better hands, took my husbands side. Co promptly complained to him of the thefts committed in his own house, and 'Der Herr Unteroffizer' promised that everything shall be returned. Phew!
At six o'clock Co came home, tired out, but with five loaves of pure white bread and some pastries. We are very happy with the additional food. We have not gone hungry yet, there is still food, both for us and for 'the others'. But, 'the others' are nine healthy men, and it is gradually becoming a problem to feed them. Fortunately we shall not have to worry about bread in the future, but what are we going to do about their dinner? We are thinking of a means to continue our hospitality. Andre has heard that there are Germans in the neighbourhood, billeted on one of the foresters. They cook their meals in the open air, and might give some to civilians who happen to come along. We'll try that tomorrow.
In the evening the men brought our friends their dinner. After a short time my husband returned with his finger to his lips, whispering, "Don't be frightened!" Our hearts were in our mouths, for behind Co we saw the Corporal of the paratroopers. The only thing we could say was, "Welcome!" We made room for him and 'Jimmy' [3] was admitted into our midst.
Friday, 6 October 1944.
Nico does not feel very well. We put him in a hammock, slung between two trees, just outside the house. He'll have some sleep there. After some time 'Jimmy' stole past, without making any noise, but he couldn't escape Nico's eyes. In the evening when 'Jimmy' came, we heard how he spied on us. He has seen Jan Holla and his wife on the moor (making love), and Aunt Mies and myself sewing on the veranda, etc, etc.
Diny Holla has been to the Germans with two of our boys. She had her bucket filled with pea-soup and pork, and they gave her two loaves besides. Within an hour the German food had reached the 'Tommies', who were told of our stratagem, and were greatly amused by it. Gratefully they eat their soup.
Saturday, 7 October 1944.
We have pancakes for dinner. While Anna is baking then, three of our 'Tommies' appear on the scene. They have smelt something extra, "flapcakes" as they call them, and of course they are invited to stay.
Tuesday, 10 October 1944.
In the afternoon we had friends in to tea, and among them is Father Doodkorte. Quite unexpectedly there was a knock at the door and two of our 'Tommies' entered the room, grinning cheerfully when they saw the surprise and astonishment of our visitors. They were introduced as 'Jimmy' and 'Paddy' [4], and the Irishman was very soon carrying on an animated conversation with Father Doodkorte. 'Paddy' told him that he lost his rosary when he jumped out of his plane. We gave him a new one, which Father Doodkorte consecrated and 'Paddy' gladly accepted.
In the evening we had quite a celebration in our little house. Jan Holla treated us to a bottle of red wine. We sang and laughed happily and our English friends took part in the festivity. 'Jimmy' sings in a boisterous way, 'Paddy' with more feeling. They told us jokes which we could understand, and did all kinds of cards tricks.
We were quite a happy family and the boys enjoyed themselves. 'Paddy' wants to learn Dutch, he finds it very difficult. The pronunciation of the letter 'g' is a serious stumbling block to him.
During the night there is some heavy shelling quite near. I am asleep, but the others lie awake listening.
Wednesday, 11 October 1944.
Nico and Hein found a wireless set which must have been part of the equipment of a plane. We gave it to the 'Tommies' who very soon succeeded in getting in touch with a plane overhead. This is a great consolation to them in these difficult and monotonous days.
Every night the 'Tommies' join us on the veranda and spend the evening with us, singing or playing or telling us about their homes, their parents, their wives and sweethearts.
Friday, 13 October 1944.
Today Andre, Koosje and I took a walk after dinner. When we were quite near the Amsterdam road there was suddenly a heavy attack from the air on Hotel 'The Leather Bagpipe', at some five minutes distance. In no time we were lying in a ditch, waiting for the noise to die down. When the planes had gone, we continued our way through the woods, and then along the Amsterdam road to the 'Schweizer Hohe'. There had been some heavy fighting there, the trees were badly damaged and a lot of parachutes and baskets were still lying about among the trees or hanging in the branches.
After an hour's walk we were home again, joyously welcomed by the family. They had all been very anxious about us, since they knew we had gone in the direction of the Amsterdam road and they had seen the planes dive down on 'The Leather Bagpipe'. Someone who had been on the spot, had told then that there had been at least five people killed and several wounded. Fortunately we just missed it.
Sunday, 15 October 1944.
After Mass we have a cup of coffee on the verandah. The weather is splendid, and there is a lot of activity in the air. We have an idea that the English are approaching. In the course of the morning Jan Holla and Co were officially welcomed by our Allied friends in their underground dwelling. The men are far from comfortable there, but they were delighted to have visitors.
Anna, our loyal servant, has done the Tommies a good turn by washing their underwear for them, and also their jerseys and socks. It's very hard work, for she has only a few primitive means at her disposal. Aunt Mies has mended Jimmy's jersey. Jimmy, impulsively, gives her a kiss in reward. Then it's my turn: "Ma, you are also kind to me", he says.
Tomorrow we have been away from home for four weeks. Though we are very comfortable here, we have a great longing to be back and lead a more normal life. How many weeks more before we are home again? We do not hear any news, nothing but rumours. We have no newspapers, the last we have seen were English papers, which we had found in the woods. We have not had any letters from our parents, brothers and sisters and other relations, they cannot get in touch with us, it seems. We shall have to be patient, that's all.
Monday, 16 October 1944.
We have taught the Tommies 'rikken', a simple game of cards. They have no difficulty in remembering the Dutch names, and they regularly drop in of an evening to have a game, that is, the Corporal and Paddy, who being an Irish volunteer is in particular favour. Our little house is crowded on such nights, but we like our friends to come and enjoy themselves.
Co went home again today. Mrs. Holla, Koosje and I went to have a look at our house in the afternoon. When I entered our living room a German soldier was playing the piano. I was dumbfounded and wanted to turn him out, but without success. We no longer own our own house.
I went into the garden to pick some flowers, when suddenly a German army-car stopped near me. A Captain got out, asking for my 'Ausweis'. I told him that I had to help my husband who baked the Wehrmacht-bread. 'In Ordnung'. Thank God, he'd have surely shot me, for it is strictly forbidden to enter Arnhem. This 'offence' is punished by death.
Tonight our friends dropped in again. They told us that there were two searchlights in the sky, forming a giant V. Does it mean Victory at last? It is our hearts desire. We can only wait, and wait.
Andre tells us that a lot of Germans have arrived in the neighbourhood. This is a great nuisance, we prefer to keep them at arm's length, in view of our English friends. But they know of the danger they are in, we need not tell them how many men, horses and waggons are on the farms near us. They have seen all this for themselves.
Tuesday, 17 October 1944.
The weather is very bad. It's no longer safe for men of 18 and upwards at Schaarsbergen. They have got to dig up potatoes at Oosterbeek. If they dare to refuse they are ordered to Arnhem to clear the debris there. This is a very dangerous job, for the English are continually shelling the town. Arnhem is now inaccessible. No one is allowed to enter the town. There is no further news.
Wednesday, 18 October 1944.
Quietness all around. If there is not going to be any more activity, we shall still be here at Christmas.
'Jimmy' came tonight for a scrub. He was as black as soot. He and his comrades have altered their cave, and that is not exactly a clean job.
We do not seem to do anything, but sew and mend in the daytime, we cannot do it in the evening for we have only an oil lamp to see by. Nature is gloomy, the days are all alike, it's all so very cheerless and disconsolate.
Thursday, 18, no, 19 October 1944.
I'm mixing up the date, that's what comes from living in 'the jungle'. 'Jim' called today. We have given him wooden shoes, an overall and a grey cap. He looks exactly like a Dutch farmhand. But he has got to practice walking on his clogs. His first efforts are highly amusing, all the more so, because the ground round our house is rather uneven. But 'Jim' will learn, there's no doubt about that. We have told him to pretend to be deaf, if anyone should speak to him. He'll shout, "Hey?", with his hand cupped around his ear. This won't be very encouraging to anyone wanting information.
Friday, 20 October 1944.
There is more firing in the distance, more activity in the air. Will there never be an end to the siege of Arnhem? We do not know anything about the other parts of Holland.
Today we received a letter, from a cousin at Apeldoorn. The first contact we have had with our relations since we came away from home. We were very glad to hear from her.
It's grandfather Thuys's birthday. When we are together in the evening and the 'Tommies' have joined us, we drink his health and our thoughts go out to Amsterdam. We sing, "Lang zal hij leven!", a long life to him, and our friends bring out three cheers, which moves us in these circumstances.
They, too, are thinking of their homes and parents at this moment. At about ten o'clock they leave us and go to bed. During the night heavy gunfire. The ground is shaking, we do not get much sleep. We are glad when daylight comes and we can go to work.
Saturday, 21 October 1944.
It was fine today. We were peeling potatoes for our Sunday dinner, when 'Jim' came to tell us that he and his friends were leaving unexpectedly. He thanks us for all we have done for him and expressed his hope to see us again, free and happy and very soon. We were sad to hear that they are going, it does not give us a very cheerful prospect as to imminent peace or liberation. But we are not surprised. It is far too dangerous for them to stay.
NOTES:
[1] 'The Refuge' was the Farm and Summer House at 'Kleine Kweek', Wansborn.
[2] Leonard A. Hooker. (Passenger) Air Mechanic, 2nd Class, Royal Navy, H.M.S. 'Daedalus', L/FX 588276, aged 23.
[3] 2618194. Cpl. John William James. 'A' Company, 10th Parachute Battalion. See Cpl Davidson for more information on this party.
[4] 1779801. Pte. William Ryan . 'A' Company, 10th Parachute Battalion.
My thanks to Bob Hilton for this account.