In the mid-September of the year 1944, I turned 10. We were still interned in Banjoe Biroe as death camp slaves. About that time, an announcement was made that all boys 10 years and older would get a free pair of socks; and to present themselves at a particular date and time by the front gate. My Mother was apprehensive. I thought it was a great idea the first present I would be getting in years!
As the 10-year old boys assembled at the right time, our names were carefully noted. Subsequently the Mothers were told to pack some necessities and changes of clothing, because the next day we were to be taken to a special boys’ camp. That camp turned out to be the infamous death camp 7 in Ambarawa; a death camp with a very miserable reputation.
Now my dear Mother had to say goodbye to her youngest her already scrawny 10-year-old flesh-and-blood. Imagine: For years she had not heard anything from or about her own elderly parents in Nazi-occupied Holland at the time of World War II. Her husband, the oldest stepson, and her now 2-year old son Fred had already been taken away. This time she had to say good-bye to her ‘baby.’
As I mentioned before: during all those war years I never ever heard my mother complain. When the Japanese death camps army truck with its cargo of dearly beloved 10-year old boys drove away, my Mom waved and did not even visibly cry. She made things easier on me, for sure!
It was decades later that my oldest sister Vanda told me how, after the military truck had driven off with its precious cargo and vanished out of sight, my Mother collapsed and completely broke down. What a vicious assault to the human psyche, to have a Mother experience one horrendous blow after another. This WWII story is explained through a kid’s view on WWII by Mr. Ralph and Cathy Brink.
No comments:
Post a Comment