The Seaforth Highlanders of Canada
It was April 1945, near the end of the Second World War.
On a Sunday afternoon we were sitting at the dinner table with the whole family when suddenly somebody cried: "Tommies!" And wouldn't you know it, there they came. In the distance behind the church we saw dark figures come running over the field, ducking and zigzagging. But they came steadily closer, while a German patrol was hiding in our backyard. When we looked out of the side window we could see them crouched behind the bushes. So Father immediately had us go to the cellar, so that we would not be caught in the line of fire. We did not think that this was fair because this way we could not see anything, but it was certainly safer. The soldiers came to our house and ordered Father against the wall. After all they did not know who they were dealing with. But soon Father had them upstairs at the little windows on the top landing, pointing out to them where the German lines were.
That is how we met our first Canadians. But they did not stay. They withdrew again to the great consternation of my dad. A few days before, the same thing had happened to people in a little town not too far from where we lived. They received the Canadians with open arms and hung out the flag, put on orange flowers and danced in the streets. But those troops did not stay there either. When the Germans came back several people were shot. Father was afraid that the same thing might happen here. So we lived through a tense night after the Canadians had left. The next day, however, they did come back. The battalion commander parked his mobile headquarters van beside our house and requisitioned our front room for an officers mess. Their kitchen was established behind our house on the concrete patio by the kitchen. Other troops were billeted in other homes. The Canadian front line had moved to approximately 200 meters past our house and we were LIBERATED!
It is hard to describe the excitement. We were FREE! Even if the German line was still very close, we were free! And because of the fact that the officers mess was in our front room, we met them constantly. On several evenings we opened the sliding door between our living room and their officer’s mess and invited them into our home. Especially their chaplain, Rev. Durnford, became a frequent visitor. He spent long hours talking to Father and Mother. He was curious to know everything about the church in Holland. We found out that he had been with this battalion for a long time already, ever since they landed in Sicily. He was known as the "Padre with the walking stick". That is how he apparently walked over the battle field to look after his men. They loved and admired him!
These were battle hardened men. On the lower sleeves of their battle dress they wore little red marks to indicate how many years they had served in the army. Some of them wore 5 or 6 of these marks. They were rough and their language was not the cleanest, but it was remarkable to see how they became different persons when they were talking to my mother and the girls. One battle they kept mentioning was the battle for Monte Casino in Italy. It had been a vicious battle and they had lost many men there.
One Sunday afternoon I was sitting behind the house talking to the cooks, when one of them said: "Why don't you come along when we leave?" But how could I? "Oh," he said, "There is always something to do. Look, there is the major. Why don't you talk to him?" And I did. Looking back on it I am always amazed about my boldness, but I walked up to him and asked him if he would have something for me to do. As if it was the most ordinary thing he said: "Do you speak English?" My answer was: "That is for you to decide, sir". "Well, do you speak German?" "Yes, sir". "OK, report to my office tomorrow morning at 8 AM. And if you have a friend, bring him along." So I found Wim Lagerwey, who had been hiding underground in our area, to come with me.
The next morning we were taken to the British Security Police in Barneveld to be interviewed. When they heard that my Father had been interned in Buchenwalde, they had no more questions. We were engaged as interpreters. The major explained to us what our job would be. He had only two official interpreters assigned to his battalion. They had been trained for this job and wore the rank of sergeant. But two of his companies did not have an interpreter. So he assigned us to one of those. I was assigned to C-company with Capt. Mackenzie commanding.
The major (Maj. Mace was his name) made it clear that he could not pay us, because he had no authorization to hire us as official interpreters, but he would provide a uniform, food, drink and shelter, and an unlimited supply of cigarettes. This sounded like heaven to me!
Well, now what? Of course I had to tell my parents about this situation and what would they say? And when I did my mother was very worried and upset. "Jongen toch! Dat kun je toch zomaar niet doen!" (Son you cannot just go and do that!) Strangely I do not remember the reaction of my dad. Mother talked to the Padre about it. He calmed her down and said: "Don't worry. I will keep an eye on him". And he did! He treated me as his son.
This all happened on Monday. But then on Tuesday morning at around 3:00 a.m. the door bell rang. "Martin has to come immediately, because we are leaving soon". Later on we heard that there had been a shooting spree on the Dam in Amsterdam between soldiers of the BS and German troops. I should explain that the BS were the Binnenlandse Strijdkrachten or Dutch Interior Forces. They were resistance fighters who had come above ground when the war ended. They were dressed in dark blue overalls with a red, white, and blue armband. They wore Dutch helmets and were armed. They were used to maintain order in various areas where the Germans still were and the liberators had not yet taken over. Our battalion was directed to drive straight to Amsterdam and occupy it.
So that is what happened. I must say that progress of the long column of trucks and Bren gun carriers was rather slow. I travelled in the truck of the padre sitting beside his driver. The padre himself travelled with the battalion commander in his jeep. In the afternoon we entered Amsterdam. What an experience that was! The column drove its way into Amsterdam and tried to cover as much of its territory as possible so that as many of its citizens could see them. It was an endless ride through streets that were crowded from wall to wall with people who wanted to convince themselves that the liberators were really there. In some areas they cheered and applauded and jumped on the trucks and carriers, so that some of these trucks were transformed into riding mountains of cheering and flag-waving people. (Will you believe that I do not at all remember if people also climbed on our truck?!) But there were also streets where many people just stood and stared and cried! I will never forget that sight.
The soldiers had prepared for this entry into the city. Many of them had collected boxes full of chocolate, cigarettes, and other stuff. As they progressed through the streets of the city, they threw hands full of it out among the people. My driver had collected stuff too and told me to stand on my seat with my upper body out of the manhole, so that I could do the throwing for him.
Finally we ended up at the south west end of the Vondelpark, where we stopped and got out, just to stretch our legs. From there we were directed to the Hygiea Square, where there was a school which served us as a barracks for the time being.
I was part of the company headquarters group. We were with about five men: the company sergeantmajor, the clerk, two dispatch riders and myself. They were the ones who saw to it that I would get my uniform and whatever else I needed, which was not much. I was told to stay with the captain. He had to be able to call me at any moment to interpret for him.
I do not remember how long we spent in that school. Nothing much happened, except that after hours (after 7:00 p.m.) they Taken August 20, 1945 202 got themselves a truck and told me to come along. They wanted to go sight seeing a bit in the city. I was supposed to show them the way, but I had never been in Amsterdam myself. I did not know where I was either!
At one point we arrived at a place where an enormous throng of people stood around an enormous pile of the hated black "verduisterings gordijnen". These were the black-out screens that had been used to prevent any light from escaping through the windows during the war. Burning them was a wonderful way to celebrate that the war was over!
When they saw our truck they forced us to stop and these "Canadians" were led to the centre of the circle. Somebody shouted: "Let's sing the Canadian national anthem"!
So while the fire was lighted and the flames went high we were singing "O Canada". The only trouble was that I knew only a few lines of it. So, at a line I did not know, I coughed to hide my embarrassment. But a lady behind me said: "Die vent kent niet eens zijn eigen volks lied!" (This guy does not even know his own national anthem!) And she was right.
My Uncle Johan lived very close to where we were billeted, so one evening I decided to go visit him. But no Canadian soldier was allowed into the streets without a weapon. So they gave me a rifle (really! an honest to goodness rifle!) and with that over my shoulder I marched to his place. When he opened the door he said: "Oh boy, what's that? You'd better put that thing in the corner over here and don't carry it any farther in".
Then came the morning that a large contingent of the BS arrived in front of the school. All the men of our company were lined up beside them for inspection by the captain. And then he called me into his jeep for we were going somewhere.
Well, it took a while before everything was sorted out, so he became impatient and told his driver to wait no longer and to go. "They will come", he said. So there we went in that jeep all by ourselves through the city of Amsterdam toward the harbour. His company's assignment was to occupy the harbour of Amsterdam and to disarm the German troops there.
We entered via the "Prins Hendrik Kade" where the former marine headquarters were. We entered by crossing a bridge which was guarded by an armed German soldier. The captain did not even stop for that guard, but drove straight on. Beside the canal the jeep stopped. Without saying a thing all the men in the jeep jumped out and each entered a door. I did not know what they were doing. And there I was, all by myself among a group of armed Germans. That did not feel too good, I can tell you! Until one of these Germans came up to me and asked if I would be willing to exchange cigarettes with him. He would get mine and I would get his. But mine were genuine Players' cigarettes made from real tobacco. His were the Ersatz cigarettes, made from whatever junk that we had been smoking during the war. So the exchange did not take place.
When the sergeant-major finally appeared he urged me to enter my own door and see if there were any interesting souvenirs to be had. So that's what they had been after! I did and found a silver table spoon with the mark of the Royal Dutch Navy on it and a deck of cards with the same mark. For the rest I did not see anything worthwhile. But it was clear that we had disturbed the German officers at their lunch, because everywhere we found the tables set with food that was still warm.
Then began the official take-over of the harbour from the German forces.
My first assignment was to go tell the German colonel that he should present his troops and personnel with all their personal weapons within one hour. I had the feeling that the man was highly offended by the fact that such a young whippersnapper gave him this command. At least that's what I thought was happening, but he obeyed the command anyway. Within the hour all the Germans stood at attention fully armed.
Captain MacKenzie acted as insultingly as he could, I thought. He was sitting halfway in the seat of his jeep, his feet on the ground and smoking a cigarette. Then he told them to get rid of their weapons. So they came and deposited their rifles and whatever else they had in separate piles on the ground. There was also a pile of German revolvers, Lugers as they were called. That pile was a little bit around the corner of the building. It was interesting to see how many of the Canadian officers and men were standing there. A good number of these Lugers disappeared without a trace.
The Canadians raved about the accuracy of these guns and to have a Luger for himself was a cherished wish of many of them.
After this the German commander took us to the magazines, where all kinds of ammunition was stored. I found it amazing to see them stepping and sliding around in all kinds of loose bullets. But they were used to that apparently. Very little was said so I did not have much to do, except for the fact that I looked and looked. This surely was a different world from what I was used to at the Rudolphstichting.
At a certain moment the German asked for a private word with the captain. He led us (because I had to come with the two of them of course to translate) to a separate entrance, opened it with his keys and entered. Then he said: "I want to hand the contents of this building over to you personally, because I think it would be irresponsible to let others know about it". The building was full of liquor. All kinds of wines and liquor were stored there. It was amazing! I do not know what the captain did with it, but I thought that the German commander was wise to try and keep this a secret. Knowing how the Canadians could drink, I shuddered at the thought of what they could do with a treasure like this.
Once things had settled down a little bit I was assigned an office above that of the captain. It was my job to deal with all the Amsterdammers who came to ask permission to take their belongings out of the harbour. There were many boats and things that had been requisitioned by the Germans and the people wanted their belongings back of course. As amazing as it sounds, Captain MacKenzie did not want to be bothered with all this civilian stuff and he gave me a free hand to go ahead and not just come back to him with every little thing. Only when three gentlemen came on behalf of the Holland-America Line, which was and is a big shipping firm, I thought I'd better call the captain to let him deal with it.
A similar kind of thing happened later on. All the German troops left in the Netherlands had been put together into the northern part of the province of North Holland, to the north of the North Sea Canal. They were prisoners of war in a sense, although they were not interned in camps and they had nothing to do. So they became restless and a good number of them escaped and crossed into the southern part of the country. That is why all the bridges across the canal were closed. Our company was in charge of the main bridge to the north via Zaandam. It was called the Hembrug.
Here too I was given an office beside the bridge and every one who wanted to cross had to come see me and show that they were authorized to cross with a pass of the town-major of Zaandam. He was a British officer by the way. And the Canadians hated the British with a vengeance. So when the town-major himself came to cross, thinking that he could of course drive straight through, the sentry stopped him and sent him to my office, just like everybody else. He was livid of course and it did not help when he saw what kind of a “snot nose” (young whipper snapper) sat behind the desk. The Canadian soldiers had a great day and high-fived me for the fact that I was not intimidated and played along with them.
One of the things that struck me most and what really made a deep impression on me, was the attitude of the Canadian soldiers toward the citizens of Amsterdam. The city had suffered terribly in the "Hunger winter" and the soldiers, when they had been out in the evening, were shocked. They talked to the people. They saw all the homes that had been demolished in the Jewish quarter, because the wood had been taken out for fire wood, and some of them came back with tears in their eyes. They would take the care packages they received regularly and give them unopened to the people in the city. They were shocked to see the state the people were in.
The Company kitchen was located in a building which backed on to a roadway. Every morning after breakfast the cooks would open the windows and hand out oatmeal porridge, bread, cold meat, and whatever else had been served to the people who were lining up at those windows. I always wondered how they explained the fact that the soldiers suddenly ate so much more than they used to.
One of my favorite events every day was the tattoo, when the regimental pipe band would march and play. Hundreds of people always gathered for that occasion, which proved to them that they were really free. For me personally, the Canadian pipe bands are the symbol of freedom. Whenever I hear or see such a band I am reliving those times in Amsterdam, and I remind myself that I am a Canadian too now!
When the time came for the Canadian troops to leave Amsterdam it was decided to have an official farewell service in the Oude Kerk, which is an old Gothic cathedral in the old section of Amsterdam. Our Padre Durnford was in charge. Among other things in that service, he wanted to address the citizenry of Amsterdam on behalf of the liberating troops. He gave me the speech and told me to translate it and read it to the audience.
Wow! There I was for the first time in an official function in a church! I shook with nerves when I had to get up and walk in front of a whole row of officials, civilian and military, climb the pulpit, and read the message. But I did it and the Padre thought that I had done a good job! Another unforgettable experience!
From Amsterdam we moved to Maartensdijk, north of the city of Utrecht. During their stay there all the men, who had joined the regiment as replacement for the many casualties they had suffered, but who were not originally Seaforth Highlanders, were sent off to join their own units. All the Seaforth Highlanders, who had served as replacements for other units, came home. So finally all the men were where they belonged.
And then they went home, back to Canada, in late August or early September 1945. And they moved out of my life. I never saw any of them again. I had some correspondence with the Padre, but that is all.
The war was over for me.
