{"title":"English language books","description":null,"products":[{"product_id":"little-kingdom-by-the-sea","title":"Little Kingdom by the Sea","description":"\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eLittle Kingdom by the Sea\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/em\u003e  offers an exclusive peek into the lives of courageous pioneers, talented artists and entrepreneurs who made their mark on Dutch history. They pushed the boundaries of a country limited in size, but great in hopes and dreams. As a tribute, KLM Royal Dutch Airlines has presented Delftware replicas of their houses.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eThe monuments and landmark buildings on which the iconic miniature collection is based, were once home to members of the royal family, and inhabitants like Rembrandt, Anne Frank, the Dutch Marco Polo and Mata Hari. Their personal and compelling stories, hidden behind the facade of each house, engage audiences worldwide to this day. \u003cem\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eLittle Kingdom by the Sea\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/em\u003e is a celebration of Dutch cultural heritage.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003eBy Mark Zegeling.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\n\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Dutch the store","offers":[{"title":"Hardcover","offer_id":42327282909434,"sku":"","price":35.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0618\/7525\/7594\/products\/Little-Kingdom-Cover.jpg?v=1642365659"},{"product_id":"invasion","title":"Invasion","description":"\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eThe Dutch in Wartime: Survivors Remember\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/em\u003e is a series of books with wartime memories of Dutch immigrants to North America, who survived the Nazi occupation of The Netherlands.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eBook 1: Invasion\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/em\u003e, covers the five days in May 1940 when an unsuspecting Dutch nation was brutally overrun by invading Nazi troops.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDesigned and written to be easily accessible to readers of all ages and backgrounds, these books contain important stories about the devastating effects of war and occupation on a civilian population.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEdited by \u003ca href=\"https:\/\/www.dutchthemedia.com\/en-ca\/pages\/tom-bijvoet\" title=\"Tom Bijvoet\"\u003eTom Bijvoet\u003c\/a\u003e.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003e89 pages\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eHistorical background, 2 maps and 31 wartime memories.\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eISBN: 978-0-3968308-0-8\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eOn the cover: ‘Destroyed City’, sculpture by Osip Zadkine commemorating the bombing of Rotterdam. (Photo: Ilya de Milde)\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eREAD AN EXCERPT:\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003ch3\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eWe gave them fresh tomatoes\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/h3\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eTuesday May 14th, 1940 was a beautiful warm spring day. It was just after Pentecost and it was the fifth day after the invasion by the Germans. In the early afternoon Rotterdam was bombed by the German Air Force with devastating effects. For the population this bombing came like a lightning bolt out of a blue sky. From Bleiswijk, where I lived, the circling airplanes were clearly visible and we could hear their drone as well as the explosions of the bombs. Smoke spread over the city as the fires spread. The cloud of smoke and flames rose higher and higher into the sky. It is difficult to describe such an enormous fire. It raged for many days, the sun disappeared and became an orange globe and the stench of the fire was overpowering. Ash rained down until the inferno was well past its height. Because the main water pipeline was hit by bombs the Rotterdam Fire Department was powerless and hence the resulting damage was enormous.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWithin an hour after the bombing a great stream of dazed fleeing people appeared in Bleiswijk, just north of Rotterdam. The only thing that we could do was offer them a glass of water, because our town had its own water supply, and fresh tomatoes from the hothouses near the town. We did this for hours on end. Most of the fleeing people had lost all of their possessions and were desperate. Some were still running. From where they ran they knew, but they had no idea where they were going to.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAt that time I went to school in Hilligersberg, a suburb of Rotterdam and a few weeks after the bombing our school reopened, but in subsequent years going to school in a normal way did not happen again. As the school itself was occupied by German troops and used as barracks, the classes were divided over a number of other buildings, including a church.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIn the summer of 1940 I often wandered in the cheerless debris of a once proud city, a pitiful ruin of bricks and misery.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003e\u003cem\u003eDirk Hoogeveen\u003c\/em\u003e\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cstrong\u003e\u003cem\u003eRegina, Saskatchewan\u003c\/em\u003e\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Dutch the store","offers":[{"title":"Paperback","offer_id":42327283204346,"sku":"","price":12.95,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true},{"title":"Epub","offer_id":42361346130170,"sku":"","price":6.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0618\/7525\/7594\/products\/1-Invasion.jpg?v=1642365661"},{"product_id":"under-nazi-rule","title":"Under Nazi Rule","description":"\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eThe Dutch in Wartime: Survivors Remember\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/em\u003e is a series of books with wartime memories of Dutch immigrants to North America, who survived the Nazi occupation of The Netherlands.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eBook 2: Under Nazi Rule\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/em\u003e, is about the hardships and fears of living through war and occupation. Every normal task becomes an almost impossible, sometimes dangerous, chore.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDesigned and written to be easily accessible to readers of all ages and backgrounds, these books contain important stories about the devastating effects of war and occupation on a civilian population.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEdited by \u003ca href=\"https:\/\/www.dutchthemedia.com\/en-ca\/pages\/tom-bijvoet\" title=\"Tom Bijvoet\"\u003eTom Bijvoet\u003c\/a\u003e.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003e86 pages\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eHistorical background, map and 19 wartime memories.\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eISBN: 978-0-3968308-3-9\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eOn the cover: ‘War Memorial’ in Gorinchem, sculpture by Irma van Rappard-von Maubeuge commemorating the defiant and courageous stance of the civilian population during the German occupation. (Photo: Gemeente Gorinchem)\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eREAD AN EXCERPT\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003ch3\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eThey were buried with their aircraft\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/h3\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIn May 1940 we lived in Speers, a village not far from Sneek in Friesland. My twin brother Klaas and I really loved it there. On May 10 and 11 the German soldiers came down the highway on bikes and horses. At that time we were ten years old and our father worked for a dairy farmer.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIn 1942 all food was scarce and was only given through food coupons. So my dad said we should move to a mixed farm where we could have plenty of potatoes and grain. One night before we moved my father yelled that we had to come down out of bed. It was extremely noisy outside. A big English bomber flew over our house very low with two of its engines on fire. It circled back around over the house and lost the two engines. Then it flew past two homes and came down in the meadows 500 feet from our house. It burned like hell. There were seven people in the burning aircraft, one from New Zealand, three from Canada, and three Americans. Dead. Only one was found outside the aircraft and the Germans buried him in the cemetery at the neighboring village of Deersum. The rest were buried with their aircraft right there in the meadow.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIn May of 1942 we moved to a farm near the town of Tzum. We really enjoyed life there. Because there were no books or pens to write with we only went to school for one and a half years and then they closed the school. So my Dad said we had to help the farmer in the fields during the summer. We had plenty to eat including duck eggs that we found in the fields. The only thing we did not have was wood to warm our food. Most days we would go into the fields and get any branches we could find. The last year, during the winter, it was extremely cold and there were no more trees to find. Every day we went at noon to Tzum to the milk factory where they would warm our food for us and we could take it back home. They always helped us first because we had to walk the farthest, three miles.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIn the evenings we would go in the field to steal wood off the bridges to use to warm the house. One day, dad and my brother and I were in the meadows looking for wood, because we had nothing left, and had just arrived at a bridge when an English airplane came over. It dropped a flare lighting the entire meadow so we jumped in a ditch. After 20 minutes it was dark again and Dad did not trust what was going on and took us home. That night we went to bed and around midnight the aircraft came back. It dropped 24 containers of weapons for the Resistance. Dad told us not to go out of the house to help because it was too dangerous. The farmer we stayed with had been hiding a Dutch judge who worked with the Resistance. The judge came to our house and asked us to help gather weapons from two containers that had burst open.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eCecil Adema\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/em\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cem\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eAncaster, Ontario\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/em\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Dutch the store","offers":[{"title":"Paperback","offer_id":42327283237114,"sku":"","price":12.95,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true},{"title":"Epub","offer_id":42361353175290,"sku":"","price":6.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0618\/7525\/7594\/products\/2-Under-Nazi-Rule.jpg?v=1642365663"},{"product_id":"witnessing-the-holocaust","title":"Witnessing the Holocaust","description":"\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eThe Dutch in Wartime: Survivors Remember\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/em\u003e is a series of books with wartime memories of Dutch immigrants to North America, who survived the Nazi occupation of The Netherlands.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIn \u003cem\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eBook 3: Witnessing the Holocaust\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/em\u003e, sixteen writers tell us how Dutch Jews were dragged from their homes to be murdered in Nazi death camps. We read first-hand accounts of friends disappearing, of betrayal and its dreadful consequences and of the torment of life in Nazi concentration camps.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDesigned and written to be easily accessible to readers of all ages and backgrounds, these books contain important stories about the devastating effects of war and occupation on a civilian population.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEdited by \u003ca href=\"https:\/\/www.dutchthemedia.com\/en-ca\/pages\/tom-bijvoet\" title=\"Tom Bijvoet\"\u003eTom Bijvoet\u003c\/a\u003e.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003e97 pages\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eHistorical background, 2 maps and 16 wartime memories.\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eISBN: 978-0-3968308-4-6\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eOn the cover: ‘102,000 Bricks’, monument by J.A. Gilbert and P.A. Ritmeijer remembering the 102,000 people incarcerated in Westerbork concentration camp who perished during the war. (Photo: Bert Kaufmann)\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eREAD AN EXCERPT\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003ch3\u003eThe war will never be over\u003c\/h3\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eLike all Jewish children I was excluded from regular school. I had to go to a Jewish school which was not a day school or religious school as we now know it, but a school where only Jewish children went and only Jewish teachers taught. We were taught the usual things, of course, but also a few very important things which are not normally taught. First, when we came into class in the morning, the teacher would check that we all had a yellow star. If a child did not have one, they had to borrow a sweater or some other garment from another child. That was illegal, but at least everybody wore a star. The next lesson was: “What would you say if a soldier came into the class and asked you at what time your parents came home last night?” The answer had to be ‘before 8.00 p.m.’ (curfew hour) of course, but not too close to it. Something like 7.30 p.m. or 6.15 p.m., so that it would sound like the truth.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAs Jews, we were not allowed to go to the movies or the public swimming pool, sit on park benches, play in the park, own radios, shop at any time except between three and five o’clock in the afternoon, go to plays, concerts or even the circus. We were not allowed to use public transit. Jewish men lost their jobs; they were not allowed to be journalists, symphony conductors, doctors, lawyers and many other professions. And of course we also had the curfew, as mentioned. We were not allowed to be out on the street between eight o’clock at night and six o’clock in the morning.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e(…)\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOn June 20, 1943, when I had just turned ten years old, there was a big round-up in all of Amsterdam. The Germans came at about nine o’clock in the morning and chased us out of our apartment and down to the street. Many people were standing in the street and hanging out of windows, watching what was going on. Not everybody was hostile though. I remember clearly how Mrs. Gijtenbeek, the lady who owned the corner grocery store came to me with a small bag in her hand. In the bag were sweets that she wanted to give me. She had always been very nice to the neighborhood children and after the invasion she was even nicer to me than before.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWe were taken to one of the big squares in Amsterdam and there we were made to wait. For what? We didn’t know. We waited all morning. Finally, at about noon, we were taken to Central Station in Amsterdam. There, we were shoved into the cattle cars, packed in so tight that there was hardly room to breathe. We arrived in Westerbork, a concentration camp in the northeast of Holland, at about eleven o’clock at night and were sent through the wooden gates to one of the barracks where we had to register and undergo a medical examination. Then we were assigned to a barracks.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e(…)\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eSix months after our arrival in Westerbork, in January of 1944, we were deported to a concentration camp in what was then Czechoslovakia (now the Czech Republic). It was called Theresienstadt, the Czech name is Terezin. That trip took us two days in cattle cars. Again, we were housed in barracks, this time built out of stone. Theresienstadt was an old garrison town, built in 1780, for about 7000 soldiers and their families. The barracks were square, with a sort of small outside yard in the middle of the square. In the center of that yard stood a hand pump where we got our water. There were washrooms, but the water there was turned off for several hours every day. The water was rusty and smelled bad. Theresienstadt sits on marshy ground and the water came from the marsh.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e(…)\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eBeginning in October of 1944, all children aged ten years and over, also had to work. My first job was as a message carrier for the Siechenhaus, the house for the old and sick. That was my ‘regular’ job. I was also assigned to a number of other jobs, one of which was passing cardboard boxes from one child to another, to a third, and so on, in a line. Only children were assigned to this particular work. Our line led from the crematorium to a waiting truck – though I didn’t know that then. The boxes contained the ashes of the dead. The dead could not be buried, because as a result of the marshy ground, water would seep into the graves. So they were cremated. We children knew that full well, because we knew pretty much everything that went on and also because the boxes were ill-made and their covers did not quite fit. Ashes and bits of bone would seep out. The boxes had names on them as well, though I did not and do not know why. The waiting truck eventually went to the river Eger which flows past Theresienstadt and there the ashes were dumped into the river. I did not find this out, however, until many decades later.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eHunger, fear, illness and death ruled Theresienstadt at all times. In the autumn of 1944, two huge transports left Theresienstadt for the East. As I now know, but did not know then, they went to Auschwitz. 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There we learned that our pre-war upstairs neighbors, the Van den Berg family (mother Trien, father Wim, and their two daughters, the elder daughter Willy, and the younger one, my best friend Carla), had left word that, should we come back, they would take us in. So that’s where we went. We stayed with them for about a year. After that year, we were able to rent the same apartment that we had had before the war. I had just turned twelve after liberation and I had to go back to elementary school where I was put in fifth grade. My father went back to work and life became ‘normal’ again. Only, of course, life was never normal again!\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eI could never talk to my parents about the war and the years in the camps. I could never ask questions about the people who had disappeared. Many of us, children and adults alike, could never talk about what had happened to us. We could not ask questions. We could not discuss it. People did not want to hear about it. 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For us the war will never be over.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eRuth Gabriele Sarah Silten\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/em\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cem\u003e\u003cstrong\u003ePomona, California\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/em\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Dutch the store","offers":[{"title":"Paperback","offer_id":42327283269882,"sku":"","price":12.95,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true},{"title":"Epub","offer_id":42361360154874,"sku":"","price":6.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0618\/7525\/7594\/products\/3-Witnessing-the-Holocaust.jpg?v=1642365664"},{"product_id":"resisting-nazi-occupation","title":"Resisting Nazi Occupation","description":"\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eThe Dutch in Wartime: Survivors Remember\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/em\u003e is a series of books with wartime memories of Dutch immigrants to North America, who survived the Nazi occupation of The Netherlands.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIn \u003cem\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eBook 4: Resisting Nazi Occupation\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/em\u003e, we read how ordinary citizens risk their freedom and ultimately their lives opposing the brutal regime of the occupying forces. 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(Photo: Hein Bijvoet)\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eREAD AN EXCERPT\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e… When the Resistance people told us that Dad would be picked up for interrogation that night, the doctor suggested that we should move him. Which is what we did. My mother, sister and I burned as much incriminating material as we could find. I still delivered some papers before curfew at 8 p.m. and then we went to bed.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThat night they came, searched the house, and took my mother to the local jail. My sister and I could not sleep anymore and we discussed what we should do. One thing was to clear the house of all food items, precious belongings and clothes because we could not stay there.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe local jail was an impressive three-storey building built like a fort, with a moat around it. 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(Photo: Sanne Terpstra)\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eREAD AN EXCERPT\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eI was born in 1934 in Yogyakarta on the island of Java of Dutch parents, the oldest of three children. While I grew up we had a nice home, my father had a beautiful car, and I had everything I could wish for.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eNot long after the war began in 1942, Japanese airplanes flew overhead and bombed our airport, while Japanese soldiers marched into our city. My sister and I thought it was so funny to see these short, stout soldiers strut pompously down the main street, with their sabers that were much too long for them clicking on the pavement. The next day they closed our school and made it into a prison where they interned many men, including my father. That was the end of school for us.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e(…)\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eNot long after this we were told to leave our home, taking only our essential belongings. Our beds would be shipped separately; everything else was to be left behind. My mother, my sister and brother and I got ready and went to the train station where a very frightening scene awaited us. Soldiers with guns and bayonets were stationed about twelve meters apart alongside the train. As we boarded, our Indonesian servants cried and tried to help us, but were roughly pushed away. We children carried backpacks containing things we needed, with favourite toys tied to the straps. Right there, watching my anxious mother and the crying children, I made up my mind that my childhood was over, and that from now on I had to be strong for my mother. I was eight years old and after this I could never be a child again.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eIn the train on the way to the prison camp the Dutch women started singing. I could never get over their sense of humour. This was one thing the Japanese failed to understand, and many times this singing was what carried us through.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eArriving in Banjoe Biroe, the filthiest prison one could imagine, we were assigned our places. The Japanese camp commander appointed Dutch leaders who would report to him and be responsible for organization and carrying out orders for the various blocks and spaces. Our family was fortunate to get a separate room for the four of us. The first thing the Dutch women did was to scrub the facilities.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe beginning of our internment was not too bad. There were about 2000 of us in this camp. We received food every day, although it was only just enough.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e(…)\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMore and more people from other camps were crammed into ours. The beds were removed, we lost our room, and instead of beds, wooden platforms were built. Every person was assigned 50 centimeters to sleep on. At night children cried, others coughed, some people fought, and there was not a moment’s peace. Restful sleep was impossible.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThere were three rows of plank beds (\u003cem\u003ebritsen\u003c\/em\u003e) along the three walls of the ward. The door to the wards had been removed. Sometimes the Japanese guards would come in the middle of the night and shine their flashlights right into our faces. Many years later my mother would still wake up screaming because she had nightmares about this. Sometimes the water was shut off for a whole day and there was nothing to drink. Other days we were told the water was poisoned, so we did not dare drink any and that in a hot, tropical country! Every morning we had to stand at attention in rows of five. The person in front had to count in Japanese. We children always volunteered as we thought it was fun to learn Japanese, and we did it with great enthusiasm. After the counting there were three commands:\u003cspan\u003e \u003c\/span\u003e\u003cem\u003eYutskay\u003c\/em\u003e! (stand at attention),\u003cspan\u003e \u003c\/span\u003e\u003cem\u003eKeray\u003c\/em\u003e! (bow exactly ninety degrees), and\u003cspan\u003e \u003c\/span\u003e\u003cem\u003eMoray\u003c\/em\u003e! (stand up straight).\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eWith the lack of healthy food and cleaning supplies, disease became rampant. My mother became sick with dysentery and then beriberi. Many people had swollen feet and legs because of the hunger. In the end it also affected the mind, and all people could talk about was food. We were graciously allowed to collect and cook Agatha snails. With some imagination they tasted like chicken. We older girls were allowed to go outside the camp under the guard of a Japanese soldier and collect\u003cspan\u003e \u003c\/span\u003e\u003cem\u003eketella\u003c\/em\u003e\u003cspan\u003e \u003c\/span\u003e(cassava) leaves. After boiling these for three days they tasted a bit like spinach. Sometimes I wandered away and saw a bunch of bananas or other fruit and would hide them in the center of my knapsack. I would put lots of ketella leaves around them. This was strictly forbidden, but I did anything I could to keep my mother alive.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eVery early in the morning I would go down what we called ‘Canary Lane’ to feel the ground to see if I could find any canaries, as we called the big nuts that fell from the canary trees. They were very nourishing. If you went there too late, they would be gone, as other people also picked them up. On one such expedition I wandered away from the guard and came upon an old cemetery where skulls and other human bones were lying right on the ground. As they were not buried very deep, it seemed they had worked themselves up out of the ground. In the centre of this field of death grew beautiful lilies. I stood there for a while, and somehow this gave me great peace.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eOur life continued, with hunger, hard work, carrying heavy pieces of wood to the kitchen, picking grass, intimidation, and always the yelling of the Japanese. We could never do anything right. Any time of day, as soon as any Japanese appeared, we were supposed to do the bow routine. If it was not exactly a ninety-degree bow, a beating would follow. On one such occasion two very old ladies were beaten with iron rods. It was hard to watch those scenes.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e(…)\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAt Christmas 1944, we found a little imitation Christmas tree and some candle stumps. We lit our candles and the little tree promptly caught fire. So much for our little Christmas.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eMost of us did not think we could last much longer, but we started singing, ‘Oh come, all ye faithful’. To our amazement we heard men’s voices far away answer us with the next verse. This really encouraged us. Many years later at a market in Amsterdam, we met a man who had been in that men’s camp, and he told us that when they heard women and children sing this Christmas carol they were greatly encouraged. In those days it was my child’s faith in God that sustained me, and although I had many questions I did not doubt his existence. It was visible in other people who had a strong faith. 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The Dutch are starving. As battles rage around them they desperately await relief from famine and tyranny. When allied troops enter the towns and villages of the plundered country, euphoria sets in, only to be tempered by the full realization of the terrible losses suffered.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eDesigned and written to be easily accessible to readers of all ages and backgrounds, these books contain important stories about the devastating effects of war and occupation on a civilian population.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEdited by Anne van Arragon Hutten.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003e114 pages\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eHistorical background, resistance poem, map and 42 wartime memories.\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eISBN: 978-0-9919981-0-4\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eOn the cover: ‘Waalsdorpervlakte’, site in the dunes outside The Hague where more than 250 people were executed by the Nazis. 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