By the beginning of March, the food shortage became untenable.
Mother had a great uncle, Jaap Broersma, who lived on a farm in Barsingerhorn near Schagen. Because we lived above the bank, we still had a telephone connection. Mother called her great uncle, who, being a farmer, also had a telephone.
I went to stay on his farm until the end of the war. There was plenty of food and Mother used my ration coupons for the other members of our family, not that it made much difference because there was virtually no food anyway. But what was important was that Mother had one less mouth to feed.
 |
| By this time the daily ration was reduced to 1 1/2 slices of dry bread and 2 potatoes per person. Source: http://www.albertusperk.nl/eigenperk-artikelen/2005.1%20oorlogsverhalen.pdf |
Mother had a great uncle, Jaap Broersma, who lived on a farm in Barsingerhorn near Schagen. Because we lived above the bank, we still had a telephone connection. Mother called her great uncle, who, being a farmer, also had a telephone.
I went to stay on his farm until the end of the war. There was plenty of food and Mother used my ration coupons for the other members of our family, not that it made much difference because there was virtually no food anyway. But what was important was that Mother had one less mouth to feed.
Passenger trains had stopped running, but my bike was fine. Although the tyres were worn out and I was quite weak, I was able to cycle the 100 km plus distance. The trip wasn't without risk because vehicles were often shot at from the air, and a cyclist could find himself in the line of fire. You could hide in the foxholes in the ground every 10 metres along the main roads, though air attacks usually came so fast that there wasn't enough time to jump to safety.
I left Bussum early in the morning with some clothing and a little food for the journey. I first rode along the highway to Diemen. It was raining a little and the going was difficult against a strong west wind. Rumours were rampant that the Germans were confiscating bicycles in Amsterdam. To avoid this, I took a circuitous route around the city. I first rode through the Bijlmermeer polder, which in those days still consisted of meadows, with here and there a lonely farmhouse.
At Schiphol I saw rubble on both sides of the road and the remains of its hangars. It all looked very depressing.
To the west of Amsterdam, a number of ferries had been attached to each other to form a floating bridge across the IJ. I couldn't see any inspectors or military so I took my chances by riding over. To my great relief, it went without incident.
At Schiphol I saw rubble on both sides of the road and the remains of its hangars. It all looked very depressing.
To the west of Amsterdam, a number of ferries had been attached to each other to form a floating bridge across the IJ. I couldn't see any inspectors or military so I took my chances by riding over. To my great relief, it went without incident.
The Zaan area just beyond looked equally miserable. The road ran parallel to the railway. All the overhead lines had been removed and the stations were deserted. Here and there I saw the remains of bombed out railway trucks. The driver of a horse-drawn wagon travelling in the same direction allowed me to ride along behind, holding the back of his wagon, which got me a lot further ahead. That made me feel a bit better. In the meanwhile, however, the wind had turned northerly and I was again riding into it. It was only with stubborn perseverance that I reached the little town of Schagen via Alkmaar. From there I turned eastward and the ride became a little easier now that I was no longer riding into the wind.
Completely exhausted, I reached Barsingerhorn just before the onset of curfew. Inside the warm farmhouse, Uncle Jaap and Aunt Diew gave me delicious hot porridge and other good food. I was allowed to eat as much as I liked! Not long afterwards my thighs started to cramp, but this abated after a while and that night I slept like a log.
Completely exhausted, I reached Barsingerhorn just before the onset of curfew. Inside the warm farmhouse, Uncle Jaap and Aunt Diew gave me delicious hot porridge and other good food. I was allowed to eat as much as I liked! Not long afterwards my thighs started to cramp, but this abated after a while and that night I slept like a log.
I stayed in Barsingerhorn until just after the Liberation. During the first fortnight I ate double helpings, fourteen times a day! After that my hunger tapered off and my appetite normalised.
No comments:
Post a Comment