The Bicycle Roundup

During the whole Hunger Winter; how lucky we were! We were always able to make our own butter and cheese, and we had some sugar too! Best of all, I loved the buttermilk. We had a huge barrel of buttermilk, with a big ladle, so everyone in the house could help themselves. Right beside that was a barrel of sauerkraut, with lots of mold on top; the thicker the mold, the better the sauerkraut.

The German soldiers walked right in the door. It was a bicycle roundup; that’s what they told us. Jan Keijzer told them that he had a heart problem and couldn’t get by without his bike, so they took his wife’s bike. The soldiers were, by then, openly admitting that the war had been lost. But the retreat was going to be bitter. There were SS and NSB collaborators everywhere you turned. Anyone unfortunate enough to get in the Germans’ way was arrested or shot without explanation. And every farmhouse was required to have a giant foxhole on its property, for German tanks to hide in.

On April 11, a squad of German soldiers showed up and commandeered our very farmhouse. We were ordered to stay in the back, and not to use the front of the house. Imagine my papa’s distress on hearing this news from afar—that his Jewish son was in the same house with German soldiers! Of course, he couldn’t dare come near.

In fact, I had already been “captured” by the Germans. They made me play with them, gave me candy, and gave me piggyback rides. One of them told Oom Reijer he knew I was a Jew. A month earlier, it might have mattered; today, they were all just waiting to go home. The Keijzers figured it would be better to try and get along with these young, homesick men—even if they were acting like animals and using our cooking pots to pee in. So aunt Trijntje asked them if they would like something to eat. She made up a nice, big pot of rabbit stew. I had some, too. The stew was delicious; I even had seconds and licked my fingers when I was done. And the next day, I noticed half the cats 8 were gone.