Grindrod, F

Fay Grindrod of New York, NY wrote:

Excuse me for writing in English; I left Holland in 1948 and have spoken very little Dutch; I also never went back to school after the age of 12. I went to college when I was 50 years old at the New York City University and got my Master's in Guidance Counseling at the age of 64. I am now 76 and working as a guidance counselor at the University - My childhood experiences have made me very strong. fay

I was 13 years old, when I walked to Groningen with my father and neighbor in 1944. We went to get potatoes. It was a nightmare journey for me and traumatized me forever. I would have liked to take the walk, but I just got the information today from my niece who lives in Almere Have. Next time please let me know. I have written several stories - maybe you can post it somewhere for people to read.

Here is the one when we return from Groningen by Amersfoord.

The Long Journey Home

One day when I had taken some food from my home to give to my friend and his mother and brother who were starving to death – I was caught by my brother who looked out of the window and saw me carrying the food away. Within five minutes my father followed me and took away the food that I was going to give to my starving needy friends My father called me a thief which made me weep. I sat on the staircase outside of my home and cried myself to sleep because my mother locked the door and would not let me in.

The next morning I was told that to be forgiven for my sins, I must go along with my father and a neighbor to get food from farmers, 200 miles away. We took off early in the day to walk to a far away place. The neighbor had a cart for the food that we, hopefully, would receive. There were many people who had the same idea as us to leave Amsterdam instead of dying at home. It was the Reprisal of the Nazis that caused starvation to the people of Amsterdam. The Nazi Government stopped food entering Amsterdam because the population had gone on strike after the Allies landed at Normandy in France. During the Hunger Winter of 1944, 20,000 people died of starvation in my town of birth, Amsterdam.

It was a long cold journey by foot without proper shoes or warm clothes to protect myself from the freezing cold. There were so many people on the road that it appeared like an Exodus. The local communities opened their schools and filled it with straw to make beds for the wary people to put their bodies to rest. The enemy soldiers came in the dark and broke down the doors and raided the schools to drag away eligible men from 16 years and older to forced labor camps.

During daylight Allies’ planes from high above came diving down believing we were marching enemy soldiers and tried to machine gun us all to the ground. I managed to jump several times in a manhole and was able to escape injuries from friendly fire intended for the enemy.

It took us ten days to walk back home with a cart full of potatoes for the family. The last day, 30 miles from home, we walked beside the railway tracks; suddenly we saw two young men running for their lives and coming straight at us. They were followed by running enemy soldiers with riffles waving in their hands. We watched in fear and wondered what might happen when the young men stopped in front of our cart - one decided to hide behind me and the other stood next to the neighbor on the other side. I was a thirteen year old little girl and knew from 4 years of World War II experiences that they might execute me as well as the young stranger who was hiding behind me. I believe looking back that I died of fear when the soldiers stopped and made a line along the road and then pointed the riffles at me and the stranger hiding at my back. I heard the riffles exploding and believed I had died. When I came out of shock I became aware I was alive and the young stranger was dying at my feet.

I heard the enemy soldiers laugh and cheer aloud over the death of the young man who saved my life. I felt great anger and was ready to tear the soldiers apart. My father shouted at me – let’s run – let’s run - they are going to kill us if we do not escape. I was numbed and did not know what to do – I did not want to let this young man die alone surrounded by young men like him who were overjoyed by their success in destroying the life of a young man who could have been their friend.

My shame is that I run away as well and left the young man all by himself. I did not die that day but my traumatic fear had entered within; I lost my free speech from that day on. I did not lose the sound of my voice – however, I never spoke up without fear in my heart. Therefore, I kept quiet most of the time because my fear was so great within that my blood pressure went so high that I landed in the hospital twice in one year. I wanted to be close but could not reach out because of my extreme fear and distrust of all adults who frightened me to death. It has been a lonely life for an adult like me but I have still a chance for a better life to come even though it is not that long –it will be of prime quality.

At age seven-six I have at last conquered my fear. After sixty three years I am free at last from the man on the road who died at my feet. I believe I died on the road long ago and today have been reborn to bring wisdom galore that I found within to share with needy others in this world and give them hope that one passionate life will make a difference to a world that appears to be on the brink of despair. Imagination and a vision is all we need to give us hope of a better future for all to share.

Here is another story:

Alone

During World War II, my father escaped from a forced labor camp in Germany and managed to make his way home to Amsterdam where his family lived.

I was twelve years old when my father went into hiding in our attic. One day I was alone with my father; I was singing a song which made my father mad; he said the contents was not proper for me to sing at my age. While he expressed his displeasure at me, we suddenly heard footsteps coming up the stairs. It silenced my father; we both listened attentively who that might be. Suddenly we heard a crash outside our door – the SS police instead of ringing the bell had smashed in our door and there they appeared, three scary men with guns in their hands and big boots on their feet; they grabbed my father by the neck and dragged him down the stairs and out on the street. My father was struggling to free himself, but three ruthless men with guns were no match for him; he lost the battle; they threw him in a truck.

I watched in silence and wondered why I did not cry – I just let them without a sound, take my Pa away. The terror within paralyzed me while I watched these three strange men beat my father like he was a dangerous beast. I could not comprehend what life in a war was all about. I pretended that these adults were just playing a game, which I often played with my friends on our street.

I did not move from my place where my father was dragged down the stairs until my mother and my sister entered through the broken door. They already heard from the neighbors of the street that my father had been taken away by the SS Police. My mother and older sister were not afraid of these scary men; they left me alone once more to find out where they have taken my Pa by force.

Fear had entered my heart – I had done nothing - I just stood there without protesting this brutal arrest. I went to bed and hid under the covers scared to death and full of guilt for not trying to save my father’s life. I fell asleep in the arms of an imaginary prince; who I had created some time ago when times were bad; I believed deeply in the story of Cinderella who was rescued by a prince who saved her from her family and carried her away on a white horse to a safe haven where they lived forever in bliss.

Imaginary stories for a child in time of despair brings hope and energy needed in a chaotic world that has lost all its reasoning of what is the prime principle of being alive. Surrogate protectors created by the survival mechanism of a child, although not real are able to convince a child that there will be hope tomorrow even if the surroundings seem to make no sense at the present time the future will be paradise.

During a war children do not comprehend what the adult world is all about. If the environment of children becomes unbearable, they reject not life – but the adult population of this earth. Children that stand without guidance in a world of despair will rise or fall according to their genetic mental and physical strength brought forth at birth and inherited from their descendents before who bear some responsibility for the world to be such a sad and lonely place.

Fay Grindrod