Dancing to the music of Glenn Miller

Maria Augustina—that’s the name I was christened with. But everyone calls me Riet. I was the second youngest in a large family; my parents had eight children. My eldest sister had already left home—she lived in Druten, across the river. My childhood home stood on Hovenierslaantje.

My father worked at Daalderop. He operated one of those big machines, producing teapots and coffee pots. I still vividly remember the many bombings during the final year of the war.

The Germans had stationed large anti-aircraft guns in Zoelen—I can still hear that sound! In January, we took the train to Friesland. The straw we lay on was filthy. We were covered in lice! When we arrived in Leeuwarden, everyone had to get into a washtub. Once we were clean, they wrapped us in blankets. Meanwhile, our clothes were being steamed. Then, our family was split up across different addresses. My parents stayed with a flax worker; one of my sisters was placed with a vicar, another with a farmer who was a member of the NSB. But she lacked nothing! As for me, I was taken in by a man who made safes. I was well looked after. What I did? A bit of knitting, mending, sewing… When we heard that the liberators were coming, we all walked to Dronrijp. That’s where the tanks rolled in. We stood along the roadside, waving flowers! The older girls—I will never forget it—they were ecstatic, jumping onto the tanks with the soldiers!

My eldest brother worked at the gas factory in Tiel; he had not been evacuated. He sent word that our house had been destroyed. After we left, the Germans had moved in. When they had to flee, they set it on fire. So, we stayed in Friesland longer and later moved in with family. My parents went to live with my sister in Druten, while us children were taken in by various uncles and aunts—until we were given an emergency house. We got our clothes from the HARK. We had nothing left—everything was gone. Even the porcelain my father had buried in the garden before we left. Someone must have seen him do it… But for us young people, it was quite a fun time. Dancing, something we did soon after the liberation, to the music of Glenn Miller. That’s how I met my husband.