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Letters From Oma
Riet Kneppers, born Maria Klazina Hersbach-Martin was the daughter of Antoinette, a courageous woman who shaped the years of Riet's life after the loss of her husband, Riet's father at an early age. The war years were times when relatives devoted themselves to each other with such commitment that no one should suffer more than the other. Her story is a true inspiration. The following letters are a mere segment of her life's journey. Hello Claire. Thanks for the fax and I'll try my best to answer all you questions. I am not very sure about the telephone interview because of the "hard of hearing" question but… we try… My hometown of Rotterdam is the biggest harbor in the world. It's a hard-working city, more industrial than beautiful. It's directly connected with the North Sea through the river Maas. There's popular saying about the people there: babies are born with "rolled-up" sleeves… When I was a child, I loved to play in the narrow streets, where I loved and organized all the children in great games. My personal favorites where rope skipping and marbles, never dolls or prams (sorry). Our government and Queen Wilhelmina were good and fair. Yes, I had and have still a great admiration for the Queen. Although she is as rich as Queen Elizabeth, she lives, dresses, and behaves like ordinary folk and her children went to ordinary schools too. She is very dignified, religious and kind. She is the Head of the State but she doesn't govern as such. Once a year in September, she makes a speech in which she expresses what the year ahead will bring. She trusts her cabinet, which had been chosen by the people and approved by her… But, oh! Sorry, I'm going off the topic… I was fourteen years old when the war started. On the 5th of May 1940, I was woken up at about five o'clock and when I climbed out on the roof (I had an attic bedroom), I saw hundreds of planes and when I looked again, hundreds of parachutists fell from heaven (or hell). They landed on the streets near the Maas and started gunning down everyone who tried to resist. They wanted to have control of the bridges…I remember there was no school that day, it was far too dangerous. The Dutch Army tried to resist, but there were too many of the enemy…and it came from the air, where it wasn't expected…we were so unprepared… The Luftwaffe, the German air force, came in and took over all in a matter of five deathly days. That was when Holland lost the war. The Luftwaffe occupied the coastline to prevent the English and Americans (later in the war) to use their planes to bomb and harass the English and Americans (and us). Right up till that day, the Germans had been our friends. There were plenty of Hollanders married to Germans and we accepted them and taught them how to speak Dutch. But when the Germans invaded…that’s difficult to answer. I was a teenager then and could hate like a teenager. I hated the fact that they stole our freedom, shot our people for no reason at all. They took all our men away as slave workers… no boyfriends. They brought death, depravation, and starvation. We, even as teenagers, fought on all fronts, delivering undercover newspapers with the real news… Propaganda was everywhere. It was all over billboards, on radio messages sent out into the streets. It was in their loud singing (Oh how happy we should be to be part of their "herrenfolk"). Oh yes, it was everywhere, but ninety-nine percent of the Hollanders had their heads nicely screwed on and the others were betrayers. You would find Judases everywhere… The Germans were always interfering with our lives. This I have already said, but in one word: the loss of freedom. You couldn't talk as you wanted, you weren't able to go as you wanted. You had to take second place in shops and cinemas. THEY were first then you. Women were never safe with so many young wife-less soldiers around. We did not know during the war what terrible things happened to the Jewish people. We were brainwashed. No own newspapers, no radios (we had to hand them in or risk being shot). Even at our schools we were told that the Jewish people always wanted to live in Israel and the Germans were so good to bring them there. Therefore: there was no panic when they were loaded in the cattle trains… and we were at the station to wave to them goodbye… I knew lots of people who harbored Jews. One of them was the priest, who was a friend of Opa, and married us after the war. He saved hundreds of Jews, helping them cross Belgium, France and also to Spain, which was a neutral country at the time. He received the highest decoration after the war, then put his habit back on. The hardships we had to endure were too many to count. The worst was the hunger, cold, (there was no coal or wood, the Germans needed that), the continuous air raids…we spent night after night in the shelter underneath our houses. I hated the "razzias" where people were ordered to either stand and be shot or loaded in vans, never to be seen again; the constant fear that you had to live with; the restrictions like nobody being allowed on the streets during the evenings and nights. My Dad died before the war and my mother had to guide us through our terrible ordeal. She was deeply religious, strong, and courageous and expected her children to be the same. We all did our bit to survive like begging, stealing (this was allowed only in wartime and only for food), or helping to hinder the enemies as much as possible. We survived, although none of us are as healthy as we ought to be, due to long-time starvation. I do remember questioning God why the war had to happen. Yes, to believe in a good and just God was something very difficult, especially when you are a teenager (I was fourteen to nineteen), but we knew that difficulties were part of life, and my mother never stopped telling us that. Over and over, that THIS was not God's doing but that of people. Yes, I am ashamed to say my faith wavered only once in my whole life. I still remember the place, the time, and my old, shabby clothing. It was Eastertime. I sat at my mother's feet, totally dejected by the horrors of the war and I said, "I am sure that He has forsaken us. What have done wrong that we are dying like this?" I still feel my mother's hand on my head and her words, "Is that not what Jesus said when he hang on the cross? What had he done to deserve that?" I never forgot those words. The end of the war finally came with one might feeling of FREEDOM. We ran in to the streets, uncovering our radios that had been hidden under floorboards, and everyone, thin and hungry, came out and danced in the street. No one could stop us from dancing in the streets for three weeks! It was sad, though. All of the inner city of Rotterdam had been destroyed in one afternoon and thousands of people died in the terrible fires that followed, which burnt for days. Later in the war there was "Allied" bombing and these destroyed whole parts of the extended city. So many lives and buildings were lost during the war…there is a monument which was built after the war which consists of a man holding his fists clenched in agony up to the sky. The middle part of his body is a hole…the heart that was ripped out of the city Rotterdam. When our common sense had regained control and we finally stopped dancing, we were asked by our "returned" cabinet and Queen to start rebuilding our lives, our cities, and our dignities. And that was what we did. And I can to a deeply rooted personal resolve: I WILL NEVER SUPPORT A WAR!!
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