It is evening, dark and cold outside, children’s bedtime, said good night to
my parents as usual and went to my room. Just as I was passing the entrance
door in the hall connecting the living room to the bedrooms, holding a half
eaten apple in my hand, all of a sudden a terrible crashing noise, a large
boot came through the wooden entrance door, it was stuck there for a few
seconds, than it started to trampled the rest of the door to pieces, until
the man in a green uniform came through, yelling ’raus, raus’
(Translated, get out, get out)
In my fright I threw the apple into the direction of my bedroom, and ran
back to my parents, who sadly picked me up, without saying anything, we left
our apartment. Once in the street, we met many of our neighbors, traumatic
collections of thoughts with great lapses in time occur. We are taken to a
neighborhood school, which was turned into a registration and collection
place. Man and Woman were separated, children mostly stayed with their
Mothers, it took hours and hours, nobody had any regard for the elderly,
the sick, the tired or whatever. From there the ‘trapped’ were marched
off, never to be seen again. Tired, afraid, and cold, only scantily dressed
and wearing my gray coat with the yellow “Star of David” with the
inscription, Jood, (Jew) which robbed me of my freedom.
The evening was long, and cold. We were hungry, and not to speak of being
tired, ‘Ssssttt’, be quiet,the crackling sounds of the dried up pieces of
forest twigs and dried leaves, under our feet were rather noisy as we
walked through the woods, it could give us away, absolute silence had to be
maintained at all times. It was nerve racking for Angela Leoni, a young girl
22 years old, a student that took upon herself to bring me to safety. She
was a ‘courier’ in those days. Her brother, Kurt E. Leoni, also a student and
leading one of the many underground units that brought people to safety. As
we came closer to our destination we were joined by a young man, by the
name of Ben, he knew the local area like the palm of his hand, and would
accompany us to our destination. It was a farm somewhere in the province
of Gelderland According to my Fathers recollections, I did not stay very
long at this hideaway,the farmer’s household did not know what to do with
me, as I refused to eat, besides they thought that I was too weak. They
had hoped for a strong little fellow that could work and be useful around
the farm. Not a frail little guy that looked sick to them.
Angela Leoni, came again to pick me up, again our wanderings took us
through the woods of “The Veluwe” as the area was and still is known. We
arrived in a small village by the name of Hattem. At the small local railway
station we met Ben again. Finally we arrived at a “rest stop”, which was the
house of the local physician in this small village. The place was designated in
the underground as a “safe house”. A place, where one could have some rest
and get something to eat or drink.
I sat down, in one of the armchairs in my gray coat,
tired, confused, scared, clutching my little brown teddy bear.
My only friend and possession
Slowly slipping deeper into the armchair drooping my head and falling
asleep. “Come” said the Lady of the house, “I’ll bring him upstairs” she
announced to the others in the room, and led me by the hand, brought me
upstairs to her bedroom, took off my shoes, coat etc. and placed me on her
bed to sleep, " Sleep well, you’ll be safe for now " She went back
downstairs, spoke to her husband. Right than and there it was decided to
upgrade their status from a “rest stop”, to a “permanent” hiding place.
That contacts should be held to a minimum for safety’s sake. All necessary
paperwork, identity card etc. should from now on be written with a new
name “Joopie Bakker” (Johny the Baker) we will call him.
Hattem, where I was hidden in WWII
Click on the pictures to enlarge them.
ChurchSquare ChurchStreet CityHall DikeGate FowerShop
Gabels Hidingplace Hidingroom Housepassage Housesmall
Typical Street Landscape Road in winter Road in summer
Medal back side Medal front side
my parents as usual and went to my room. Just as I was passing the entrance
door in the hall connecting the living room to the bedrooms, holding a half
eaten apple in my hand, all of a sudden a terrible crashing noise, a large
boot came through the wooden entrance door, it was stuck there for a few
seconds, than it started to trampled the rest of the door to pieces, until
the man in a green uniform came through, yelling ’raus, raus’
(Translated, get out, get out)
In my fright I threw the apple into the direction of my bedroom, and ran
back to my parents, who sadly picked me up, without saying anything, we left
our apartment. Once in the street, we met many of our neighbors, traumatic
collections of thoughts with great lapses in time occur. We are taken to a
neighborhood school, which was turned into a registration and collection
place. Man and Woman were separated, children mostly stayed with their
Mothers, it took hours and hours, nobody had any regard for the elderly,
the sick, the tired or whatever. From there the ‘trapped’ were marched
off, never to be seen again. Tired, afraid, and cold, only scantily dressed
and wearing my gray coat with the yellow “Star of David” with the
inscription, Jood, (Jew) which robbed me of my freedom.
The evening was long, and cold. We were hungry, and not to speak of being
tired, ‘Ssssttt’, be quiet,the crackling sounds of the dried up pieces of
forest twigs and dried leaves, under our feet were rather noisy as we
walked through the woods, it could give us away, absolute silence had to be
maintained at all times. It was nerve racking for Angela Leoni, a young girl
22 years old, a student that took upon herself to bring me to safety. She
was a ‘courier’ in those days. Her brother, Kurt E. Leoni, also a student and
leading one of the many underground units that brought people to safety. As
we came closer to our destination we were joined by a young man, by the
name of Ben, he knew the local area like the palm of his hand, and would
accompany us to our destination. It was a farm somewhere in the province
of Gelderland According to my Fathers recollections, I did not stay very
long at this hideaway,the farmer’s household did not know what to do with
me, as I refused to eat, besides they thought that I was too weak. They
had hoped for a strong little fellow that could work and be useful around
the farm. Not a frail little guy that looked sick to them.
Angela Leoni, came again to pick me up, again our wanderings took us
through the woods of “The Veluwe” as the area was and still is known. We
arrived in a small village by the name of Hattem. At the small local railway
station we met Ben again. Finally we arrived at a “rest stop”, which was the
house of the local physician in this small village. The place was designated in
the underground as a “safe house”. A place, where one could have some rest
and get something to eat or drink.
I sat down, in one of the armchairs in my gray coat,
tired, confused, scared, clutching my little brown teddy bear.
My only friend and possession
Slowly slipping deeper into the armchair drooping my head and falling
asleep. “Come” said the Lady of the house, “I’ll bring him upstairs” she
announced to the others in the room, and led me by the hand, brought me
upstairs to her bedroom, took off my shoes, coat etc. and placed me on her
bed to sleep, " Sleep well, you’ll be safe for now " She went back
downstairs, spoke to her husband. Right than and there it was decided to
upgrade their status from a “rest stop”, to a “permanent” hiding place.
That contacts should be held to a minimum for safety’s sake. All necessary
paperwork, identity card etc. should from now on be written with a new
name “Joopie Bakker” (Johny the Baker) we will call him.
Hattem, where I was hidden in WWII
Click on the pictures to enlarge them.
ChurchSquare ChurchStreet CityHall DikeGate FowerShop
Gabels Hidingplace Hidingroom Housepassage Housesmall
Typical Street Landscape Road in winter Road in summer
Medal back side Medal front side
| The Holocaust 1940 -1945 "My Early Years" In Loving Memory, My Foster Parents |
| Piet van Haeringen, (1908-2002) Ali van Haeringen, (1910-2000) They saved me as a small child, during the war from all the dangers. |
| Excerpts from the book " My Early Years " (ISBN # 0-9748524-1-4) Fall - November 1942 |
The Medal pictured above, (front and back side) have been awarded to Ali & Piet
van Haeringen by The State of Israel, in recognition of the heroic deeds to save
guard a child from evil during the most difficult
years of World War II (1940-1945).
van Haeringen by The State of Israel, in recognition of the heroic deeds to save
guard a child from evil during the most difficult
years of World War II (1940-1945).
In case you want to acquire the book, click on this link ISBN # 0-9748524-1-4 In case you want more information, please write an e-mail to the following Click here to send e-mail to Joseph 4X6KJ To Hobbies To the Family Page |
