A kick up the backside from Kotälla

Football was my greatest passion! I played for GVV in Geldermalsen and later in Buren. After the war, I was fortunate enough to take up my favourite sport again. But things could have turned out very differently!

At first, we barely noticed the war in Erichem. You rarely saw Germans there, and life soon carried on as usual for us. I worked for a fruit farmer, Gerdinus Moree, on Erichemseweg. In March 1943, he sent me by train to Amsterdam. By then, I was already old enough to be eligible for forced labour in Germany, but I trusted my papers. They stated that I worked in agriculture, making me essential for food production in the Netherlands. But on that very day, the Germans carried out a raid on the train, and my papers were of no use!

I was imprisoned in Amsterdam for a few days and then sent to the Polizeiliches Durchgangslager Amersfoort, where the notorious Joseph Kotälla was one of the head guards. I even got a hard kick up the backside from him once. There was plenty of kicking and clubbing in Camp Amersfoort! Fortunately, on my very first day—after being led into the camp through the so-called ‘Rose Garden’—I ran into a familiar face from the Betuwe, Adje de Heus. He had been arrested around the same time in a raid in Tiel. Together, we were put on transport to Germany on 20 April—the birthday of the ‘beloved Führer.’ I was relieved to leave Camp Amersfoort! I had done little there but wait, apart from the few days when I was assigned to the so-called ‘potato commando.’ That meant we were allowed – under armed guard – to fill sacks with potatoes on a nearby field.

Once in Germany, we were placed behind barbed wire in Dreierwalde, in the Tecklenburger Land. Near Dreierwalde was ‘Fliegerhorst Hopsten,’ home to a squadron of German fighter planes. The airfield was regularly bombed by the Allies at night. As forced labourers, our job was to repair the craters in the runway during the day, so the airfield remained operational for the Germans. During one of those bombings, Ad de Heus took his chance amidst the chaos and escaped. He found refuge with a local farming family, where he worked as a farmhand for the rest of the war. One day, he even brought me a chicken, passing it through the wire fence. The guards let him be, assuming he was a German. As strange as it sounds, I got used to the nightly bombings. It was dangerous for us as forced labourers—we had to make sure we reached the bunkers in time. Life was defined by relentless work – there was no such thing as a free Saturday or Sunday – and food was scarce. Mostly cabbage soup, sometimes a slice of bread. Luckily, I endured it without lasting physical or mental harm.

When the war ended, the Allies picked us up in trucks. I travelled with a comrade, Jan Geerts from Oosterhout, and stayed with him for a few weeks before finally returning to Erichem. Grateful to be free again! And grateful to play football once more!