A 19-kilometre journey past eleven historical locations
Book cover ‘Dwars door Barlo’, 1995
What was daily life like in Barlo during the war years? To keep the memories of this poignant time alive, the ‘Dwars door Barlo’ (National Museum of Hiding and Resistance) committee has launched a special interactive route. Using QR codes, walkers, cyclists, and motorists can listen to and watch stories from World War II at various locations via their smartphones.
The foundations of this project were laid back in 1994. To safeguard the memories of the war years in Barlo for the future, the former ‘Dwars Door Barlo’ (National Museum of Hiding and Resistance) foundation interviewed numerous local residents. These conversations, recorded on over seventy cassette tapes, provided the source material for the book ‘Dwars door Barlo’ (1995) at the time.
More than thirty years later, these stories have been brought to life once again. Not just on paper, but in the heart of the landscape where these events actually took place.
The route
The foundation has compiled a unique route that leads past the locations described so extensively in the book. The route is 19 kilometres long in total and passes eleven historical sites in Barlo. The journey can be completed on foot, by bicycle, or by car. The start and end points are located at pancake restaurant De Neeth (Neethweg 6).
How does it work?
Green posts with a number and a name are situated along the route. Each post features a QR code. By scanning this code with a smartphone, the story of that specific location appears instantly on the screen. There is also an audio button to have the story read aloud, allowing everyone to listen to the events of the past on-site.
Navigation is straightforward: a link to Google Maps is provided below each story to guide the visitor to the next point.
View from home
Those who prefer to view the route at home first or wish to listen to the stories beforehand can visit the website:
On the lawn of the Old St Helen’s Church on the Markt in Aalten stands a special memorial stone. The bronze plaque on the stone lists the names of seven resistance fighters within the organized resistance in Aalten.
Resistance during World War II (1940-1945) only developed over the course of the war. As the German occupiers’ measures became stricter, small groups emerged that resisted the occupation, initially with limited means. As the war progressed, more and more people faced difficulties. These small resistance groups grew in strength due to increasing membership and the networks that formed between various resistance cells.
Within the resistance, two main currents could be distinguished. The first group was the National Organization for Help to People in Hiding (LO). This group organized hiding places for Jews, for men who refused to work for the enemy in Germany, and for resistance fighters who had to go into hiding. The LO was dependent on sufficient ration coupons for the food supply to the people in hiding . The second group, the Knokploegen (KP), took care of that. This armed group carried out raids on distribution offices, tried to sabotage the enemy at vital points and in the last phase of the war prepared to assist the Allied troops in the liberation of the Netherlands.
In the Achterhoek, especially in the region of Aalten, Lichtenvoorde and Winterswijk, the resistance was particularly active. Some of the resistance fighters lost their lives during the war. Those who survived the harsh time did not feel like heroes. Many testified to the fear they would carry with them for the rest of their lives. The courageous acts of the resistance are recorded in several books.
The names of the fallen (click on the links for more information):
‘Hide the outcasts; Do not betray him who escapes’. This text (Isaiah 16:3) was used by several pastors at the beginning of World War II. With this, the congregation members were called upon to contribute to helping people fleeing the Nazi regime. And with success: at one point, one in five residents of Aalten was in hiding, relatively more than anywhere else in the Netherlands.
The inhabitants of Aalten played an important role in protecting people in hiding during the war. Their courage and determination have saved the lives of many. The church’s involvement, close family ties and rural location are seen as reasons for the great willingness to offer help. It is relatively easier to hide people in a remote farmyard than in a city. But despite that, helping people in hiding and other refugees took a lot of courage and sometimes cost lives.
Hiding and resistance
During the war years, there were several reasons why people chose to go into hiding. For example, Jews tried to escape deportation to concentration camps. In addition, there were people who wanted to avoid the Arbeitseinsatz or who wanted to resist the German occupier.
Heleen Kuipers-Rietberg uit Winterswijk, beter bekend als tante Riek, zorgde voor schuilplaatsen voor veel werkweigeraars en Joden. Samen met Ome Jan Wikkerink, een aannemer uit Aalten en leider van de plaatselijke verzetsorganisatie, en met dominee Slomp stond zij aan de wieg van de Landelijke Onderduikorganisatie (LO).
People in hiding were often hidden in attics, in barns, in secret rooms or in remote places in the landscape. Although there was always a risk of betrayal and arrest, relatively few people in hiding in Aalten were discovered by the German occupiers. The local population had a strong mutual solidarity and the resistance was well organized. Moreover, there was an active network that helped people in hiding to cross the border to safer areas abroad.
In 1947 schonken oud-onderduikers de Aaltense bevolking een monument als dankbetuiging voor hun gastvrijheid en aan de verzetsmensen die de stuwende kracht waren bij het onderbrengen van de onderduikers. Het monument bevindt zich in de Stationsstraat, tegenover het treinstation.
Secret door, Markt 12 in Aalten (Nationaal Onderduikmuseum)
Most probably the beautiful village in the Gelderschen Achterhoek Aalten was the place that housed proportionally the most people in hiding during the war. The village has only 11,000 inhabitants and no less than 2500 people were placed in hiding. For the time being, we will be able to assume that this is a record in the Netherlands.
Aalten’s taak is hiermede niet af geweest. Boven dit getal zijn er nog honderden kinderen, vooral uit Rotterdam en omgeving, geweest die daar hun zomervacantie hebben doorgebracht. We overdrijven verder niet dat duizenden in den lande in den voedselnood geprofiteerd hebben van de honderdduizenden roggebrooden, zakjes meel en havermout, spek en eieren, die vanuit dit dorp het land zijn ingezonden. De directeur van het Aaltensche postkantoor droeg den naam onder zijn collega’s van roggebrood-directeur.
We will remain grateful to Aalten for this war activity. The 2500 people in hiding are too. They sent a request to H.M. the Queen and asked her to visit Aalten during a trip through the liberated Netherlands. We sincerely hope that it will happen. Aalten deserves it.
Almost a quarter of a century after the liberation, on March 14, 1970, the newspaper Trouw wrote in an article about a planned reunion of former people in hiding and former combatants:
In the years that the Germans occupied the Netherlands, in the small, agricultural town of Aalten, there was hardly a house in which there were no people in hiding. The people who live there are closed by nature. The Hague resident and the Amsterdammer, who went under water, had to get used to it. The Germans too, by the way, and once an SD officer spoke in anger of ‘abscheuliche Leute’ and he added: ‘Wir sind Luft, Luft!’ However, the silence of the Aaltenaar has benefited many people in hiding.
During the war years, Rev. J. Klijn (of De Open Deur), Rev. P. Kuyper and Rev. J. van Dijken respectively as a reformed, reformed and christian-reformed minister. One evening, two farmers, who had made a long bike ride for it, arrived at one of the three rectories. It matters little which one. They told the preacher about a naober, who was unwilling to take in people in hiding. In some houses there are eight, why doesn’t he want to accommodate one? Can’t the pastor go and talk to that man and point out his responsibility? They get the promise from the pastor that he will exchange a hearty word with the brother in question. It turned out not to be necessary. On the day that the Allied tanks thunder into Aalten, the farmer, who has been complained about, stands in front of his stee, laughing and waving. He is there with his wife and his family, but also with a bunch of Jews. He accommodated them, without the nearest neighbors having any suspicion of it.
Not all Jews who were given shelter in Aalten survived the years of occupation. A number of them were discovered, sent to Poland and liquidated there.
Church services
Aalten would not be Aalten if it had only provided the people in hiding with equipment. The churches held special church services for people in hiding, usually on remote farms, where people met in smaller groups. The congregation of God started to function here as a hidden church, in the summer the services were held on the deel, in the winter in the large Achterhoek kitchen. People did not ‘go’ in large numbers, but came with two or three people at a time. Guard posts were often posted to be alert to danger. There were also special catechisms for people in hiding. Even separate Jewish catechisms. A number of Jews came to believe in the Messiah.
Begin ’44, tijdens een gewone dienst in de gereformeerde Westerkerk, omsingelden de Duitsers de kerk. Eén jongeman die in Scheveningse vrouwenkleren de kerk verliet, ontkwam. Hoe die knaap aan dat Scheveningse gewaad kwam? Tussen neus en lippen door had Aalten ook nog een flinke groep Scheveningers, die uit de kuststreek weg moesten, gastvrij opgenomen. 48 Onderduikers werden in een vrachtauto geladen en naar Amersfoort getransporteerd, en van daaruit voor een groot deel naar Duitsland. Ook werd de christelijke gereformeerde kerk op een zondag overvallen. Hierbij werd een dozijn onderduikers gepakt.
Some boys did not return. In an issue of De Open Deur, which appeared the following year, Rev. Klijn of a service that was held on Christmas Eve ’44 on a farm in Aalten. We quote a few passages: “The Christmas Gospel was read in many wonderful places last year, in that time of need and misery, of shelters and shelters. But it was robbery in order. Also here in this simple peasant kitchen with its international circle of resistance fighters, herded together from all over the world; Achterhoek farm boys, heavily wanted illegals, navy people in hiding and secretarial staff, and allied pilots from San Francisco and Florida. Brighton and Plato Sask, Canada. It was as quiet as in a church, when the familiar words of Luke 2 were read, first in Dutch and then from the Moffat translation in English. And there was a twilight of emotion over some of those tough faces, when the old Christmas message came to them in their own language, here, so far from home, Christmas after all, the Christmas message: Today you have a Saviour born in the town of David, the Lord Messiah. And in the silence of Christmas night, their hearts, filled with thoughts of war by day and by night, knocked on the door of a different peace from that for which they were fighting, the peace of which the English sang: Glory to God in high heaven, and peace on earth for men whom the favours! By a puzzling achievement, the underground from the Achterhoek had also collected a few English church books and so the Christmas carols were sung bilingually: Honor be to God, Now sijt wellecome and the Silent Night, Holy Night, known all over the world…”
Nationaal Onderduikmuseum
‘Hiding house’ Markt 12, Aalten
To record the memory of this part of history and to keep it alive, the National Hiding Museum was established in Aalten. The museum focuses on showing and documenting the stories of people in hiding and the people who helped them. It shows how ordinary people can show courage and humanity in extraordinary circumstances.
Het museum is deels gevestigd in een pand met een bijzondere onderduikgeschiedenis: Markt 12. Dit was indertijd het woonhuis van een gezin met kinderen, maar op zolder werden onderduikers (tijdelijk) verstopt en de kelder was de schuilplaats voor buurtbewoners tijdens bombardementen. Extra opmerkelijk: de grote woonkamer was door de bezetter gevorderd en in gebruik als ‘Ortskommandatur’.
The Nationaal Onderduikmuseum also has an escape room. Players are confronted with issues and dilemmas that everyone will encounter when they have to flee. If you choose to flee from your world, you have to renounce what you know and know. You will have to do everything in your power to keep yourself going in your new situation.
It is now important that you have insight into that new situation, have a sharp vision, so that you can recognize signs, dare to make decisions and distance yourself from what you have known until now. “Can you manage to dive under the radar, become invisible, become inaudible to the enemy?”
During the final years of the Second World War, many people in hiding (onderduikers) found refuge in the Achterhoek region. Aalten topped the list, with an estimated 2,400 people pursued by the Germans. “The inhabitants were not only devout, but also linked that faith to providing shelter to those who had been driven from their homes.”
Pieter Schaap (84) now lives in a tidy apartment in the centre of Aalten, having purchased the property with his wife, who is nearly 80, several years ago. “We lived a little further away, but the house was too big, and we could no longer keep up with the garden.”
That is not to say that the Aalten resident and his wife are not spry. The couple regularly visits their children in the west of the Netherlands and travels by plane to visit a son in Norway. Pieter’s wife regrets that they can no longer make those trips by car and boat. “You see so much more that way.”
The Aalten resident, distinguished by a thick shock of grey hair, still drives in the Netherlands. Among other things, he delivers meals for Tafeltje Dekje (Meals on Wheels). “But the physical ailments are starting to show. I recently had cataract surgery on one eye, and my hands shake a little; I can no longer write properly. I am considering stopping with the meal deliveries this year.”
Spoiled butter
Sixty-five years ago, Pieter Schaap came to the Achterhoek for the first time. The native of The Hague was forced to report to Winterswijk in late 1942 following a summons from the Germans, who were coercing young men into forced labour. “I reported to Kamp Vosseveld as instructed. It was very German there, very strict. We were allowed to go to church on Sundays, at least.”
Schaap grew up in a Reformed family but later joined the Gereformeerde church. “After the service, the minister invited us for coffee. We were regularly allowed to stay for a meal. They thought we were starving in that camp. That wasn’t true, but as a young guy, you could always manage a bit extra.”
Photo: Jan Ruland van den Brink
He disliked the conditions. “We repaired backroads and replaced sections of railway track. Everything was done by hand. You only had a spade and a wheelbarrow. Meanwhile, you were being drilled. We had to sing all sorts of nasty songs. I didn’t like the regime. I spoke about it, and then the minister said: ‘Why don’t you go into hiding?’ He said he could arrange an address. However, we were being watched closely; there were constant roll calls, making it impossible to escape. Until the moment we were served spoiled butter. That was early 1943; I don’t remember the exact date. Almost everyone had diarrhoea, and there was no roll call. That was when I slipped away. Together with Henk Bossemeijer, a lad from the Alphen aan den Rijn area.”
Pieter and Henk exchanged their uniforms at a family’s home in Winterswijk, put on civilian clothes that had been laid out for them, and boarded the train to Aalten. “The minister had said we would be taken care of. And indeed, we were met by members of the resistance. Through Ome Jan, the leader in Aalten, we were given shelter for the night. The next day, we went to ‘t Paske farm in the rural district of Dale.”
Schaap immediately felt that the presence of him and Bossemeijer was too much of a burden on the farming family. “The responsibility for two people in hiding was too great. ‘Do you know of another place for one of us?’ I asked. After a few weeks, I was able to go to ‘t Heegt farm in Lintelo, another rural district. There, with the Rensink family, I stayed until the end of the war.”
A hollow above the horse stable
The young man from the west with a technical background was quickly retrained as a farmer. He ploughed and harrowed the land using horses, cleaned stables, and fed the cows. “I even learned to milk, thanks to the family’s eldest daughter, who had just taken a course in it.”
At first, Schaap slept in the opkamer (parlour) of the farmhouse. Later, a group of 500 people from Scheveningen arrived in Aalten, having been driven from their village by the Germans in connection with the construction of the Atlantikwall. Schaap remembers it well. “The Gereformeerde evacuees went to Aalten, while the Hervormde evacuees from Scheveningen went to Winterswijk. That had been agreed upon with the local churches. Some of the Scheveningen evacuees were also offered shelter at ‘t Heegt.”
For the rest of the war, he slept in a hollow above the horse stable. “Above the manger where the horses ate. If I stood on that, I could just reach a small hatch that couldn’t be seen from below. I had a bed there, and some light fell in through a glass roof tile.”
He was not there often. Pieter spent most of his time in the fields. The man in hiding did not find it truly dangerous. “We didn’t have much trouble from the Germans. We did have to watch out for landwachters (Dutch collaborators), but they were always spotted in this area long in advance. I would usually go to a piece of land further away, somewhat hidden behind the trees. Or I would crawl away. I never stayed on the farm if there was trouble.”
A wagon full of crispbread
He stayed at ‘t Heegt for two and a half years, amidst many other people in hiding. Aalten was teeming with them. “There were more and more of them. The Germans also began to notice, and on 30 January 1944, the Westerkerk was surrounded by SS soldiers during a service. A number of people in hiding tried in vain to escape past the organ. The churchgoers were checked and fined if they had left their identity cards at home.”
The story of Gerrit Hoopman (19), a person in hiding, is well-known; in the chaos, he was provided with an outer skirt, a shawl, and a traditional headpiece by a woman from Scheveningen, allowing him to escape the church. That did not apply to a large group of other people in hiding; more than forty men were arrested.
Schaap, a faithful visitor to the Westerkerk, was not there that day. “We felt it was becoming too dangerous, so that Sunday we organised a service in a secret location for one of the first times. We called that the ‘underground church’. We did that at farms, always at different addresses. Often one of the boys would lead the service; sometimes we had a minister.”
Later, German soldiers were billeted at the farm. “They were young boys, paratroopers who no longer had any planes and therefore had to serve in the infantry.” He had little trouble from them. “To them, I belonged to the family. When they requisitioned a horse and wagon from the farmer at one point and gave the command ‘Bauer mit!’ (Farmer, come with us!), I jumped onto the driver’s seat. We headed toward Bocholt, but during a bombing raid, my passengers quickly disappeared—they looked for cover elsewhere. I waited for a while until I saw farmers with horses and wagons driving back and forth from a large warehouse in the area. I went over and said I had been sent to pick something up. I was given a wagon full of knäckebröd (crispbread), ha ha! I drove back with that.”
He was also part of the farming family to others. “All those years, I was ‘Piet van ‘t Heegt’. Some people still know me by that name today. We were recently at a gathering where we met an acquaintance from that time. She lives in Zeeland now. ‘Hey, there’s Piet van ‘t Heegt,’ she said.”
He did not suffer from hunger in the Achterhoek. “Every two weeks, I even sent a large rye bread to my parents. The postman was called ‘the baker’ at their place; he helped distribute the bread.”
Until his retirement, Schaap worked as a technician for the Royal Netherlands Army. His pre-war ideal of becoming a marine engineer did not come to fruition due to the war. In the hamlet, Pieter met his future wife. “She lived a few farms away.” The courtship did not go smoothly, as her father thought she was too young, and after the liberation, Pieter signed up as a volunteer for the Dutch East Indies. Only years later did he return to Aalten, where the farmer’s daughter was still waiting for him. “We have now been married for 56 years. We were truly destined for one another.”
Izaak Antonie de Moor, born on May 31, 1905, in Goedereede, was appointed mayor of Breskens in 1939. In 1941, he joined the N.S.B. there. After ‘Dolle Dinsdag‘ (Mad Tuesday), he fled to Aalten, where he took over the mayoral duties from September 18, 1944, during the period when Mayor Monnik was in hiding. When things became too difficult for him a few days before the liberation, he fled to Grijpskerk, where he was arrested upon liberation. After 1½ years of internment, he was provisionally released.
On March 10, 1947, De Moor stood trial before the war tribunal in Groenlo. The charges were as follows: group leader and sub-district leader of the N.S.B., neighborhood head of the N.V.D., member of the N.A.F. during his term in Breskens; taking the oath of allegiance to Mussert; organizing N.V.D. training afternoons; threatening the municipal messenger J.J. Bliek; applying for a weapons permit from the Representative of the Reich Commissioner; stating, when returning Dutch soldiers to Germany as prisoners of war: “They deserve no better; they have done nothing but sabotage”; distributing the publications Volk en Vaderland and De Zeeuwsche Stroom; cooperating with the labor deployment for coastal defense works; and providing a training course for mayors in Goes.
The term of office in Aalten
The summons regarding his term of office in Aalten included the following charges: cooperating with the O.T. labor deployment in Zevenaar and Bocholt; calling in the assistance of the Landwacht to check for people in hiding, for the requisitioning of bicycles, and for the arrest of a person in hiding at Te Giffel. Furthermore, the accused dismissed all municipal officials who were in hiding and informed the Sicherheitspolizei in Doetinchem of the arrest of three individuals, including B.H. Wikkerink, for engaging in illegal activities. Finally, he called in the assistance of the Grüne Polizei stationed in Aalten in connection with the arrest of the Baruch family, a Jewish family in hiding.
The accused explained that by accepting the office of mayor in Aalten, he had intended to be of as much service as possible to the population. The president: “You have given all your strength to the German, and thus enemy, cause for the destruction of both the Dutch material and spiritual resistance. When you saw in Breskens who and what the Germans were, you should no longer have acted as mayor in Aalten.” The accused: “I had to choose between being a member of the Landwacht or a mayor. I had no desire for the Landwacht.” The president: “You could also have chosen another path: neither.”
The discussion then turned to why the accused had been present on October 10, 1944, when the S.S. had conducted a raid in Aalten and the detained persons were brought to the community center. The accused: “The S.S. intended to cordone off the churches. I knew this would cause much unrest in Aalten, so I tried to make amends where possible. In some cases, I was able to do something in favor of those detained.” The accused denied having ordered the arrest of the six hostages. “In the report to Doetinchem,” the accused stated, “I did declare it. The late Mr. v.d. Glas, the Landwacht commander, gave the order to arrest the hostages. As mayor, I was required to report it.”
The president: “Why did you attempt to compile a new population register, when you knew that the old one had been deliberately disappeared? You were in every respect a mindless tool in the hands of the Germans.” Furthermore, the speaker pointed out how dangerous it was to inform Vossers that the municipal secretary, Bijlsma, had made off with the municipal papers and documents, and to tell the aforementioned Vossers where B. was likely located. President: “You were a convinced and fierce member of the N.S.B.” The accused: “Not fierce, I was an idealist. I considered it my calling and task to do something for the Dutch people.”
After the various points of the indictment during his term in Breskens were addressed, the arrest of the Baruch family, who were in hiding in Aalten, was finally discussed. The accused admitted to having acted incautiously. He had mentioned it in a conversation with the Grüne Polizei. The president: “You knew yourself what kind of beasts the G.P. were.” The accused: “It did not sink in at that moment. I was able to prevent the Oberleutnant from having the three Jews in question shot. At my insistence, they were to be transported to Doetinchem. As the liberation approached, they were able to remain in Aalten. And upon my departure, I told Tilbusscher that the Jews could be released immediately, which is what happened.”
Verdict
The accused, who had no defense counsel, said in his closing statement that he is now back in the workforce. He appealed for the clemency of the Tribunal. “I have had a lesson for life. Moreover, my house in Breskens was bombed, and my 17 years of pension are gone. I was a civil servant heart and soul; I admit to having been completely wrong. Give me the opportunity now to care for my family again,” he exclaimed.
After deliberation, the president stated that it would be fair to impose an internment longer than the pre-trial detention. However, the Tribunal wished to take into account the circumstances in which the accused currently finds himself. The following measures were imposed upon him: internment equal to the pre-trial detention; disqualification from holding any public or semi-public office; deprivation of both voting rights; and confiscation of his radio.
De Moor passed away on February 17, 1984, at the age of 78, in Warnsveld.
In the early morning of 21 September 1943, Piet Hoogenkamp, the assistant of the Aalten general practitioner and resistance fighter Joop der Weduwen, placed a package in front of the house with address Patrimoniumstraat 12 in Aalten. Resistance leader Hendrik Jan Wikkerink alias Uncle Jan lives at that address with his family. The doorbell rings.
The package turns out to be a newborn baby. He is the son of Lena Jedwab-Kropveld and Yitzack Jedwab, rabbi (pastor) of the Jewish community in Aalten. From mid-1942 the couple was in hiding on the De Ronde farm of the Veldboom family in Lintelo. Resistance leader Uncle Jan and doctor Der Weduwen have agreed in advance to lay the foundling.
Foundling
Daughter Jo Wikkerink later told about this:
“We knew that the delivery was coming and the baby would be brought to us. Father and mother only told the oldest three. The youngest knew nothing. They could not talk past their mouths. Father and mother waited in the dark room in the evening. It seemed to the neighborhood as if they had gone to bed. When the doorbell rang, they knew the baby was there. They got the youngest out of bed and shouted in surprise: “Come and see what is there now!”
The Jewish child was therefore born in hiding and was registered three days later by Mrs. Dela Wikkerink-Eppink with the name ‘Willem Herfstink’ and registered as such in the birth register of the municipality of Aalten. The name was chosen symbolically. Willem refers to Queen Wilhelmina, Herfstink to the first day of autumn (21 September) and the Saxon suffix ‘ink’ means ‘belonging to the yard or family of’.
Because only a few people – such as doctors – were allowed to be on the street at one o’clock in the morning, four o’clock in the morning was given as the time when the baby was found. This made the investigation into the origin of the child considerably more difficult. “I sometimes came home late at night with a big belly by train. Then I had ‘contraband’ with me as if I was heavily pregnant. When Wimke was put on the sidewalk, they said: “That’s what they say, but it must be one of the girls.”
Declared Aryan
The next day, the municipal doctor on duty, Dr. Knol, had to examine the foundling. The baby was not circumcised and therefore he issued the declaration that the child was 100% Aryan. “The next day father immediately went to Schepers, who lived diagonally across from us (he worked at Paske). Father knew: if I tell it there, everyone in Aalten will know it immediately. Behind us, next to Vossers, lived an NSB woman. She was on her knees in front of Wimke’s crib to see if he had any Aryan features.”
Lennie and Yitzchak had meanwhile moved to another hiding place in Lintelo. In June 1944, the resistance moved them in a hay-covered wagon to the house of Bernard and Gesina Wevers in the hamlet of Dale, behind the Ringweg, just outside the village of Aalten.
Initially, they did not want to take the Jedwab couple into their home because they were already sheltering evacuees. A minister of the Reformed Church changed the pious Calvinists’ minds: he preached that the persecuted should be helped.
Bernard, a carpenter, built them a room behind the closet where they spent all their time. Mrs. Wevers cooked for her Jewish guests as much as possible according to kosher rules.
In the meantime, Willem had been lovingly taken into the family of the Wikkerink family. Especially mother Dela and eldest daughter Lien Wikkerink took care of ‘Wimke’ as they called him. Dela Wikkerink regularly walked with the baby in the pram to the hiding place of the Jewish parents in Dale. She often took some fruit from the vegetable garden with her in her bag. There were people in Aalten who said: “What does Mrs. Wikker always have to do with Wevers?”
Towards the end of the war, two German soldiers were billeted in the Wevers house. While the soldiers were in the house, Lena and Yitzack sat in chairs in their hidden room and were not allowed to move or make a sound, sometimes for days.
Dela Wikkerink-Eppink with Aron Jedwab alias Willem HerfstinkPatrimoniumstraat 12, AaltenKoningsweg 2, Dale (source)Yitzchak Jedwab and Lena Kropveld – wedding photo, March 1942Aron Jedwab with Dick, Jannie and Ina Wikkerink, 1943 (source)Birth certificate ‘Willem Herfstink’, 21 September 1943
After the war
After the liberation in March 1945, the family was reunited and the little one was given his real name: Aron Jan Willem Jedwab. The name Willem remained and the second first name Jan refers to his rescuer Jan Wikkerink. Queen Wilhelmina came to Aalten soon after the war and visited the Wikkerink family to honour them for their actions in the resistance. Jo Bulsink-Wikkerink: “I can still see Wilhelmina. She slapped my grandfather on the shoulder and said: Wikkerink, you have a brave son.”
The young child Willem hardly knew his own parents. Jo Wikkerink – the second daughter in the family – then moved in with the Jedwab family for a year, so that Willem could get used to his own parents and new environment a little easier. The Jedwab family emigrated to the US in 1947 and there they changed their surname to Jade.
The house is of particular significance due to its history of occupation. During the Second World War, it was inhabited by the resistance leader ‘Ome Jan’ (Uncle Jan) Wikkerink and his family. Motivated by his religious convictions, Wikkerink was deeply involved in assisting those in hiding. He became the leader of the Landelijke Organisatie voor hulp aan Onderduikers (LO – National Organisation for Aid to People in Hiding) and the Landelijke Knokploegen (KP – National Assault Teams) in Aalten.
On Sunday, 15 September 1944, the house was surrounded and he was arrested along with several others. However, he was liberated that very same day. In retaliation for the rescue operation, the Germans threw hand grenades into the house on Patrimoniumstraat, causing the interior to go up in flames.
The house was built in the traditional brick architecture characteristic of the Interwar period, featuring a substantial overhang and strong horizontal elements, such as the bay window at the front of the property.
Owners
Overview is incomplete.
Year
Plot
Owner
Description
1832
I-167
de Hervormde Armen van Bredevoort (Reformed Poor of Bredevoort)
This farm was built around 1910 on the instructions of its first occupants, Herman Bulsink—originally from the Nonhof farm—and his wife Everdina Hendrina Blekkink. Their foster son, Adolf Melitz, later became the primary occupant.
Melitz was German by birth, but became a naturalised Dutch citizen in 1938. Shortly after the German invasion, he joined the Dutch National Socialist Movement (NSB) and in 1941 enlisted in the Waffen SS, with the rank of Obergefreiter. In September of that year, he took part in fighting on the German–Russian front near Dnepropetrovsk and Rostov, where he sustained permanent injuries to his nose and arm.
In 1942, the farm was listed in the telephone directory as a ‘Regional Farm’ of the N.J.S. (Nationale Jeugdstorm, a youth movement). Reportedly, following the Liberation, the farm was set on fire by local people as an act of retaliation and was never rebuilt.
In 1947, Melitz was sentenced to three years’ imprisonment, a fine of 2,000 guilders, and disenfranchisement.
Aaltensche Courant, 13 March 1934Aaltensche Courant, 6 July 1937Aaltensche Courant, 21 April 1939Directory for the local telephone service, January 1942
De Graafschapper, 1 August 1945De Graafschapper, 11 July 1947Aaltensche Courant, 18 July 1947
Projection from ‘Farm and Field Names in Aalten’ on Google aerial photograph, with 1967 house numbersFragment of the cadastral map, 1950 (plot C-4316); the contours of the vanished farm are visible on the left
Bernard Huinink served as an alderman (wethouder) for the PvdA (Labour Party) in Aalten for many years. Consequently, his nickname was ‘Rooien Huunink’ (Red Huinink). The turbulent council meetings involving Willem te Gussinklo (alias ‘Piepkes Willem’) of the AR (Anti-Revolutionary Party) became legendary.
Bernard Huinink was born on 11 February 1886 in Aalten (Hogestraat 64), the son of Herman Huinink and Janna Geertruid Obrink. On 8 February 1912, he married Grada Wilhelmina Schepers in Aalten. They settled in Ormelstraat.
In 1919, at the age of 33, Bernard Huinink took his seat on the Aalten municipal council. He would hold that seat for nearly 45 years, initially for the SDAP and later for the PvdA. In September 1959, he celebrated his 40th anniversary as a council member and received a Royal distinction. In 1964, Huinink, the ‘father of the council’ (nestor), stood down ‘on account of his advanced age’ (77). He was succeeded by his 37-year-old son, Jan Huinink, of Admiraal de Ruyterstraat 21, who was the manager of the local PTT office (postal and telecommunications).
Bernard Huinink being invested with a Royal distinction by Mayor E.S. van Veen.
In April 1939, a border guard detachment of 36 men was stationed in Aalten, housed in farms. Sand filled tubes are placed here and there as obstacles. Around 1 September, at the beginning of the Second World War, several hundred residents of Aalten left by train for the various garrison places. On 9 May 1940, the municipal architect was instructed to install barricades on several roads.
On 10 May, German army units thundered into Aalten. The soldiers stationed around farms offer no resistance. A few days later, Dutch prisoners of war are seen being transported to Germany in open trucks. Four people from Aalten are killed at the Grebbeberg. A group of five hundred returned prisoners of war are enthusiastically welcomed in the party building and then travel on by train.
Two hundred and fifty Rotterdam children stayed here in the summer months. This was also the case in 1941. A lot of (young) people go to work in Germany because it earns well. There is already a lot on the coupon. Food production comes under control, for which Aalten is divided into three districts, each under a local office holder.
In the summer of 1942, the first people in hiding came to Aalten to evade the Arbeidseinsatz. Shortly before, the first group of employees of Dutch Button Works in Bredevoort had themselves photographed neatly in their suits with a view to employment in Germany. A group from the Driessen textile factory is also deployed.
About five hundred Scheveningen evacuees found shelter here in January 1943. Almost all of them belong to the Reformed Church. In Winterswijk there are eight hundred, all Reformed. Once every three weeks a Scheveningen pastor stays here who also leads a church service.
Hostages
The Germans increased the pressure to get men to dig. The most intimidating thing was the detention of 12 hostages on October 18. The next day, 550 men leave for Zevenaar. Ten days later, another seven men are taken hostage and 250 people report. The pastors and R.C. clergy had made an appeal to ‘show mercy and charity towards those who are in immediate danger of death’.
By circular, a representative group of municipal residents insists on a repayment scheme. It will come. A pastor in Zevenaar will be there at all times for support and spiritual care. But there is also a clandestine stencil circulating with the call to ask oneself ‘whether it is responsible to cooperate in the enemy’s defences, as a result of which many more than eleven human lives (…) will soon be lost.’
The last months
A few moments from the last three dark months: Individual food collectors keep coming, but a committee ‘Aid to the West’ also manages to collect a few cartloads of mainly grain. Doctor Der Weduwen succeeds in transferring sick people from camp Rees to the emergency hospital in Avondvrede on the Hogestraat. Serious cases go to the hospital set up in the boys’ boarding school in Harreveld. Der Weduwen is killed when his car is shot at from the air.
A drama is taking place around a resistance group that is hiding in the abandoned farm ‘De Bark‘. Close to the door, in ‘Somsenhuus‘, Germans were billeted while seven Allied pilots were in hiding there. The total number of soldiers in Aalten at this time is estimated at about four thousand.
Liberation
In the last days of March, it is clear that the denouement is near. How hard will there be fighting? Many leave the village, others seek protection in their shelter. There were still German soldiers roaming around. Then, on Good Friday, March 30, early in the morning, the English tanks rolled into Aalten from Germany. Here and there, Germans still put up fierce resistance. Ten British were killed on that day, in Barlo seven people were killed in a grenade hit in an air-raid shelter. Sadness and joy, Aalten has been liberated.
In 2015, as part of the commemorations for 70 years of liberation, a commemorative column was placed at the Old General Cemetery in Aalten to honour all local soldiers who fought on and around the Grebbeberg in May 1940. Seven servicemen from Aalten lost their lives during the conflict. Their names and photographs have been immortalised on the column.
The text on the column reads:
Soldiers from Aalten in May 1940
In the early morning of 10 May 1940, German troops invaded the neutral Netherlands. For our country, this marked the beginning of World War II. Mobilised Dutch soldiers took up positions in several lines of defence, including the Grebbe Line. Fierce fighting took place in the main resistance strip on and around the Grebbeberg near Rhenen.
Photo: R. Neerhof, 2025
Most soldiers survived the battle and were able to return to Aalten, often after a brief period as prisoners of war. Seven families remained in a state of uncertainty for some time. Eventually, they received the tragic news that their sons would not be returning; they had fallen in battle. Their lives were devastated by this great loss. At this site, all Aalten soldiers who fought in May 1940 are remembered.
Many residents of the Achterhoek, including a considerable number of young men from Aalten, were assigned to the 8th Infantry Regiment (8 R.I.). This unit played a vital role in the defence of the Grebbeberg. The poorly trained and equipped soldiers fought an unequal battle against an overwhelming enemy. Bravely, they attempted to hold their ground for as long as possible. The Germans, with awe, referred to the hill as ‘Der Teufelsberg’ (The Devil’s Mountain). Nevertheless, our country was forced to capitulate on 14 May 1940.
Gunter Demnig placing the first Stolpersteine in Aalten
In Aalten, 34 Stolpersteine (stumbling stones) are laid across twelve addresses. A Stolperstein is a memorial stone placed in the pavement in front of the house from which people were deported by the Nazis to extermination camps during World War II. When you see such a stone—usually unexpectedly—with the name of a victim, you are momentarily reminded of how millions became victims of systematic murder during that war.
The stones have a surface area of 10 by 10 cm. A brass plate is affixed to the top, into which the name, year of birth, date of deportation, and the place and date of death are stamped. Each stone serves as a memorial to a single victim: a person who lived in that very spot and was deported from there, never to return.
Originator
The Stolpersteine project was conceived by the German artist Gunter Demnig. He deliberately kept the size of these ‘stones of offence’ small, requiring one to bow down to read the inscriptions.
Demnig began laying the first Stolperstein in 1997 in the Berlin district of Kreuzberg. Today, Stolpersteine can be found in many countries. Gunter Demnig thus gives every victim their own individual monument. His motto is: “A person is only forgotten when his or her name is forgotten.”
Initially, he made all the stones himself, as he felt mass production conflicted with the project’s ethos. However, forced by the project’s rapid growth, he is now assisted by an artist friend. He insists on personally laying the first stones in any given location. The remaining stones are now usually installed by municipal pavers.
Stolpersteine in Aalten
In Aalten, 34 Stolpersteine have been laid at the following addresses:
’t Dal 1: Levi Salomon Schaap, Ella Schaap-Philips, Eliazar Hars Schaap, Frits Landau, Amalia Landau-Lorch
Dijkstraat 10a: Levie van Gelder, Jula van Gelder-Landau, Arnold van Gelder
Eerste Broekdijk 51: Roberth Fuldauer, Rozetta Fuldauer-van Gelder, Lina Sara Fuldauer, Sara Fuldauer, Meijer David Fuldauer, Cato Konijn
Grevinkweg 5: Sally Fuldauer, Regina Fuldauer-de Jong
In one instance, the stone could not be placed in front of the victim’s residence because the building (Industriestraat 4) no longer exists, nor is there a pavement where it could be installed. Therefore, this stone was laid in front of the synagogue.
Huisstededijk, IJzerlo (just before the Keizersbeek bridge)
The ‘Flying for Peace’ (Vliegen voor de Vrede) monument is a commemorative memorial located on Huisstededijk in the Aalten rural district of IJzerlo. The monument was erected in memory of the crash of a British bomber during World War II, which came down in a nearby potato field on the night of 26 June 1943.
On that particular night, over 400 British bombers flew over the Achterhoek on a mission to bomb the petrochemical industry in Gelsenkirchen. One of these aircraft, a Short Stirling BK767 of 214 Squadron, Royal Air Force, with seven crew members on board, had taken off just before midnight on 25 June.
At approximately 01:20, the aircraft was set ablaze by night fighter pilot Oberleutnant Ludwig Meister, flying a Messerschmitt Bf 110 G-4 that had recently scrambled from Venlo airfield. The Stirling crashed into a potato field between the farms of the Van Lochem family on Huisstededijk and the Ter Horst family on Veldweg.
Of the seven crew members, only two survived the crash. They were later captured near Hemden and spent the remainder of the war in German prisoner-of-war camps. The other five crew members perished and were buried following a brief ceremony on 29 June 1943 at Berkenhove Cemetery in Aalten.
The following day, many Aalten residents flocked to the cemetery. On the middle grave, members of the underground resistance laid a wreath with ribbons bearing the text: “Gebroken vleugels, onsterfelijke roem” (Broken wings, immortal fame). By order of the occupying forces, these words had to be removed, but they live on through the monument today.
Survivors (taken prisoner): • F/O K.A. Nielson • Sgt E.G. Taylor
The Monument
In 2003, a monument was unveiled at the spot where one of the crew members’ bodies was found, near the cycle bridge over the stream on Huisstededijk. The creator, Wim Westerveld, gave it the name ‘Flying for Peace’ and designed an artwork containing multiple layers of symbolism.
The monument consists of a white stone sphere topped with a metal sculpture that, from certain angles, represents a dove and, from others, flames. The sphere rests on a metal pipe angled into the ground, to which a plaque is attached. One of the two survivors, navigator Edwin Taylor (born 1922), was present at the unveiling of the monument.
Significance
The sculpture represents the Earth with a dove of peace on top, symbolising the desire for peace. However, from certain viewpoints, the dove transforms into flames, symbolising the tragic event of the crash and the fiery dedication of the crew to their mission. The flames also refer to the fire of the bomb load the aircraft was carrying. The broken wings on the monument are a symbol of the crew’s abruptly ended mission.
The monument serves not only as a memorial to the crew of Stirling BK767 but also conveys a broader message. It acts as a warning against war and reminds us of the freedom we enjoy today. It calls upon us to cherish this freedom and to grant it to others as well.
Bernard Leezer (57) lives in Aalten in the Achterhoek. Although he ran a butcher’s shop for twenty-six years, he does not really consider himself a butcher. He is a father of three sons and a daughter, and a grandfather of two. A conversation about meat, hiding from the Nazis, and football
“Both my parents have passed away. My father was a cattle dealer and my mother came from a well-to-do family in Wilhelmshaven in Northern Germany. She didn’t really suit my father at all. He was a stubborn man from Groningen who didn’t care much for etiquette. It caused friction. If my father came home and forgot to wash his hands before dinner, all hell would break loose. Of course, he wasn’t the type to just let himself be pushed around, so he’d fight back. And then my mother would say: ‘Na und wie bist du denn, wie bist du denn überhaupt?’ Mother spoke German at home. She spoke fluent Dutch too, but she hardly ever used it. I was raised bilingual.”
“My mother’s father was a horse dealer. She always used to go to the tennis court in a pony and trap. Anyone who did that back then belonged to the upper class. That’s why I always say my parents only met out of necessity. She fled to the Netherlands in 1932 with her two children—both my father and mother had been married before. My father had six children from his first marriage. Two of his children, one with a husband and child, were gassed. I am the only child from the second marriage.”
“My mother was a dominant woman. She always protected her own children, while my father’s children had to take a back seat. They had to fend for themselves from an early age. Of course, it wasn’t easy for them to accept a woman who wasn’t their mother either. Father was the kind of man who, for the sake of peace, would just think: Never mind. Let it be.”
“I was heavily influenced by my mother. If I wanted to go on holiday, she would say: ‘Du brauchst nicht so weit weg, wenn etwas passiert. When you are old enough, you will look for a wife and go to work.’ I became a butcher against my will. I actually wanted to be a pilot. Mother wouldn’t hear of it. So a butcher it was, but I’m not really a butcher at heart. I’m too emotional. I am against ritual slaughter because I believe an animal has the right to be stunned. God gave us the animals. Fair enough, but does a beast have to suffer that much pain before we scoff it down?”
“The first Jews to be rounded up were the Fuldauers. They lived right near us. They were taken away by PC Dijke from Aalten. He was a small, fanatical bloke. The Fuldauer family walked along packed to the rafters, and he walked in front, loosely wheeling his bicycle by his side, leading those people to the community hall. That’s where the Jews were gathered before being transported to Westerbork. People were standing outside the slaughterhouse, and they said: ‘Alright Dijke, you can keep that up all day, can’t you?’ Then my mother said: ‘It’s time. We have to leave.’ After the war, that Dijke fellow came into our shop once. I walked around the counter and said: ‘Get out, Dijke, and never come back, or we’ll cleave you in two.’ He was the man who took away the first Jidden from Aalten, and he just strolled in as if nothing had happened.”
“Kees Ruizendaal, nicknamed Zwarte Kees (Black) Kees)—also a policeman, but a good one—helped us find a hiding place. He was later executed by firing squad in Doesburg. First, I stayed with my half-sister Helga at the Klein-Entink farm, and later with my parents at Hendrik Groot-Nibbelink’s place on the Stroete in Lintelo. We were hidden with three orphans. They were practically children themselves. Drika, the oldest, was 26; Hendrik and Bernard were in their early twenties. To me, they are heroes. You know what would have happened to them if we’d been caught. They were Christian people. They did what they did out of love, not for the money. I think about that often. I find what they did incredible. Hendrik passed away last year. The vicar gave a beautiful sermon. I went and sat in the refreshment room. I felt that if I looked at the vicar, I’d get such a massive lump in my throat. I couldn’t well let myself go like that as a grown man, could I?”
“While we were in hiding, I used to go outside with Hendrik at night once it was dark. Next to the farmhouse stood an old apple tree. It leaned terribly and had to be propped up. Between the props was a tiny patch of land. If Hendrik had sown rye that day, for instance, I would go and sow rye on that little patch of land at night. He was my great role model; that’s why I was so heartbroken when the man died. He was like a father to me.”
“I spent a lot of time with the cows or with the horse. The Germans requisitioned Lies—that was her name—at one point. She was a right handful. She bit and kicked everyone except me. I could practically sleep right next to her. Hendrik managed to fetch Lies back because the Germans couldn’t control her. I was so happy she was back. At least I could cuddle her again. Drika used to play games with me. My father was too old to play with me. He was terrified that something would happen to me. I don’t know if he would have survived it. He was completely barmy about me. Later on, when I started going out and came home late, he could never go to sleep. He always stayed awake and would say: ‘Where on earth is that boy?’ My mother was more down-to-earth.”
“For a while—when it became too dangerous at Groot-Nibbelink’s—we also stayed with the Pennings family in Varsseveld. They were a very devout Christian family. During the war, he would go to Delft with a horse and cart to fetch glass. He sat on the box with the reins in one hand and a Bible in the other. Pennings had nine children. I often sit by the brook now, thinking: what must have gone through that man’s mind. He had to keep the peace in his family, keep us calm, and keep a cool head himself. The house was searched once at Pennings’ place. We were hidden under the straw along with sixteen other Jews and people from the underground resistance. One of those ‘blacks’ [NSB/collaborators] stood with his great boots right on my mother’s hand. He crushed her whole hand. Pennings was downstairs playing the organ: Abide with Me. Every time I hear that hymn, it takes me right back.”
“We hid with true Christians, and later I went to a Christian school. But I never felt the urge to become a Christian. My half-sister Helga joined the Reformed Church. Well, that took a few drops of water, but that was about the extent of it. Truly, you can have a stable full of Trakehner and Hanoverian horses, but if you put an Arabian among them, it stands out. You cannot deny who you are. The first thing people say is: ‘That’s a real Jewish trick.’ At home, my father and mother kept Jewish life alive for me. My mother wasn’t particularly pious. My father was orthodox. His whole life, even during the war, he never ate gasser (non-kosher meat). You are a Jid, and there’s no escaping it. I’ve always said: ‘I was born a Jid, and I’ll die a Jid.’”
“I couldn’t live in Israel because of the heat, but when I’m in Eretz, I love it. We go there regularly because our daughter lives there. When I go to shul here, I think pff, but there I think it’s wonderful. Afterwards, you stand around having a nice little schmooze with a group. You can’t do that here anymore. You could before the war. Before the war, about a hundred Jews lived in Aalten. After the war, we struggled to form a minyan. It’s just a completely different atmosphere. You can’t imagine walking down the street in Aalten wearing a kippah nowadays.”
“I can’t say I was frightened at the time. I can only remember that after the war, when I was at school, I was scared to death of the postman. I went to the Groen van Prinsterer school. It was an old-fashioned school with a very long corridor, with the toilets at the far end. If I came out of the toilet and Mr Terbrake was standing at the other end of the corridor in his postman’s uniform, I’d be rooted to the spot because I thought I’d seen a ‘black’. That’s what happens when you’ve spent years being told: ‘They’ll kill you.’ Terbrake would quickly go to Miss Jonker and say: ‘Bennie’s frozen at the end of the corridor.’ She would come and get me. She’d put an arm around me and take me back to class.”
“The Groen van Prinsterer was a fantastic school. It was a Christian school. I never once heard the word ‘Jew’ used as an insult there. It was quite a different story at the public school. I had to have remedial lessons because at eleven years old, I couldn’t even read or write. While in hiding, we did read little booklets, and when the war ended, my father said: ‘He reads like there’s no tomorrow.’ But you mustn’t forget that if you read me a booklet like that a thousand times, I’ll eventually know it by heart. At first, they fell for it, but the moment a different book was put in front of me, I couldn’t make head or tail of it.”
“During the war, I wasn’t aware that it was a matter of life or death. No one can tell me that an eight-year-old boy understands that. We were told: ‘You mustn’t go outside because people are walking around out there who will kill you.’ That doesn’t really sink in for a child. You can tell a dog a thousand times: ‘Leave that alone.’ And eventually, it won’t touch it anymore. But as for why it’s forbidden—it doesn’t understand that.”
Aaltensche Courant, 4 May 1945
“During the final period of the war, we stayed with Hendrik on the Stroete again. We lived there for the first few months after the liberation too, because we no longer had a house. My mother went looking for her furniture. She managed to get a lot of it back. My father took out a loan from a Christian church. He was a bit casual about paying it back; years later, we still received a final notice. Right after the war, he put an advert in the newspaper: ‘After two and a half years in hiding, I am reopening my butcher’s shop’. My father wasn’t a good butcher. He was a cattle dealer. A proper trader. Very much a case of: one, two, up you get, just sign for that beast.”
“After primary school, I went to the technical secondary school. I didn’t want to go at all, but my mother said: ‘Du sollst ein Handwerk lernen.’ I ended up getting a whole load of diplomas. Alongside that, I always did a lot of sport: tennis, hockey, and football. My father wouldn’t give me money for football boots. ‘You’ll just have to earn it,’ he said. I always had to help my father, but I never got paid for it. My brother-in-law ran an emergency slaughterhouse. If there was an emergency slaughter in the middle of the night, he’d ring and wake me up, and I’d go and help him. I didn’t get any money for that either, but I did get the head, the tongue, the udder, and the liver, and I sold those. That’s how I bought my football boots.”
“I played as a semi-professional for De Graafschap. I moved from Aalten Football Club to Winterswijk Football Club. WVC was an elitist club. Because I went to school in Winterswijk and was in the school team, I caught people’s eyes. When I moved from Aalten to Winterswijk, I was called a ‘rotten Jew’. Why? I was turning my back on Aalten. WVC was an elite club, and they hated them. I was a really fast right winger. But I was very slightly built. They only had to tap my ankle and I’d go rolling over thirty-four times. Later on, I played centre-forward too. I was actually too small for it, but I’d always go tumbling to the ground, and that would get the referee on our side. I played two seasons for De Graafschap, until one day I was kicked out of the match by Dick Tol, nicknamed ‘the gnarled’.”
Leezer butcher’s shop, Peperstraat (1975)
“In the end, I ran a butcher’s shop for 26 years. Looking back now, I say: ‘I’d never want to do it again.’ A hundred grams of this, a hundred grams of that. Never again, though I did have some fun. Especially in the early sixties, we got a lot of German customers. Meat was cheaper in the Netherlands than in Germany. You had to be careful not to give the Germans preferential treatment, otherwise you’d get earfuls from the Dutch. Dutch customers were always served immediately by my assistant or my wife. Even if there were three Germans ahead of them, a Dutch person was served first. I’d make a joke of it and say: ‘Kurt, ich hilf dir’.”
“In the evenings, the restaurant owners from Bocholt would come in and order ten or fifteen racks of pork chops. There were a few customs officers who always came to get meat. They never had to pay. When they came by, they’d say: ‘Blimey, I’m on duty again tonight.’ And then in the evening, I’d get in my little Opel, take out the spare wheel, put the racks of chops in, and pop right over the border. I could always drive straight through. My wife knew nothing about it, and I thought: what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. It was a time of adventure and wheeling and dealing.”
The war memorial on the Wheme was erected in memory of all fellow citizens who died during the occupation years as a result of acts of war. The memorial also commemorates the liberation.
The establishment of the memorial was an initiative of the Monument Foundation 1940-1945 committee. Immediately after the liberation, the population of Aalten felt the need to honour the war victims with a monument.
The monument consists of a statue of a male figure with a woman and child. The sculpture of French limestone is placed on a terrace. The pedestal consists of masonry, concrete and natural stone. The memorial is 1 meter 31 high, 1 meter 43 wide and 90 centimeters deep.
The group faces south from where the tribulation, but also the deliverance, came. Artist Bé Thoden van Velzen described the sculpture as follows: “… representing man, woman and child, as a symbol of the entire Dutch people, expectantly looking forward to liberation, unbowed and unweakened.”
Especially in the final years of the war, several residents of Aalten were arrested by the Germans and transferred to a camp. Upon arrival at the camp, all their belongings were taken from them. It appears that efforts are currently being made to return the objects confiscated at the time, insofar as they are still present in the former camps. We now share a remarkable incident regarding this:
In January 1944, numerous young men were taken prisoner one morning at the Reformed Westerkerk. They were first transferred to Amersfoort. Among them was Mr. H. Stronks from Dale. He had to hand over all his belongings, including his wristwatch. Stronks was subsequently wounded during a bombardment of the Soesterberg airfield, was admitted to a hospital, and managed to escape from there.
Mr. J. Tolkamp from Barlo, who was arrested on the same morning and also transferred to Amersfoort, was put on transport to Neuengamme in September. Upon leaving the camp, he received several belongings back, including a wristwatch. Tolkamp claimed that this watch was not his property but belonged to Stronks. However, the camp guards insisted that Tolkamp take the watch anyway. He then did so.
Upon arrival in Neuengamme, all belongings had to be handed over again. Everyone’s belongings were placed in a small bag, on which the prisoner number was noted, after which the bag was thrown into a large drawer. It was thought that they would likely never see any of it again.
In the meantime, Mr. Tolkamp had stayed in four different German camps and returned to Aalten after the liberation. On Saturday, Mr. Tolkamp received word that he could collect a package at the Social Affairs Office in Aalten. It turned out that this package came from Neuengamme. It was the same bag in which his belongings had been placed at the camp. Even the camp number — 48769 — was still on it.
In the bag were two rings made by Mr. Tolkamp in Amersfoort and a wristwatch. It turned out to be the watch of Mr. Stronks, who was highly surprised when, after six years, he received back his property, which he had long since written off. However, Mr. Tolkamp did not receive his clothes back, nor the confiscated money.
Two cousins meet on the boat after not having seen each other for 13 years
Great joy prevailed on Wednesday in the Neerhof and Lievers families when their sons returned home safe and healthy after 13 and 2½ years of service in the Far East, respectively. Maypoles and greenery, waving flags—everything pointed to a joyful return. We had the pleasure of hearing some details from both young men.
Henk Neerhof
First, we hear from Private H. Neerhof, K.N.I.L. We found Henk surrounded by family members and friends, and upon our request to tell us something about his experiences, we were told the following:
„After my training in Nijmegen, I left for the Indies in August 1935, destined for Bandoeng. Until the Japanese invasion, I was always stationed here in garrison. After a hard struggle, I was taken prisoner of war along with many others and transferred to the well-known penal camp at Tjilatjap. Here we got to know the Japanese as a cringing, submissive people, brutal and sadistic in their actions, but also deathly afraid of their superiors.
After this time in the camp, we were transferred to Thailand and here the path of suffering began: working on the ‘death line’, the Burma Railway, which lasted 1½ years. From here I was taken to Japan, where I spent two years as a miner in the coal mines on the island of Kyushu. It is easy to understand that this time was also far from rosy.
Japanese internment card Hendrik Neerhof, source: National Archive
There I finally experienced the liberation in 1945, a liberation I will never forget. It was the Americans who delivered us from all that misery. With our exhausted bodies, we jumped and danced. Americans, great guys! It was simply exhilarating.
KNIL soldiers working on the Burma Railway
Everyone was transferred to Nagasaki on an American aircraft carrier, the city that had been hit by the atomic bomb some time before. The effect of this was terrible; everything had virtually disappeared, it was a scorched remnant of a city, covered with a thick layer of ash. From here I was finally dispatched to Balikpapan, where I had a good time. Here I was incorporated into a normal company again.
And now I am home again, with six months’ leave. I felt really strange towards everything here; it is so small and narrow-minded, you really have to get used to it again. I am happy to be home. The festive reception, everything decorated, and a serenade from the A.O.V.—it was wonderful.”
Finally, Henk mentioned that he will return to the Indies again. We wish him a very pleasant leave and, for later, a good voyage and a safe arrival in the Indies.
Jan Lievers
As the second returnee from the Indies, we were able to greet Private 1st Class Jan Lievers. Jan left for the Indies as a volunteer in October 1945 and was assigned to I-8-R.I. After training in Ermelo, Jan ended up in Malacca via England, as the first Dutch troops were not yet allowed to set foot on Indonesian soil. Stationed in an old rubber plantation at Lubok Kiab, he underwent heavy jungle training.
At the end of February 1946, they set foot ashore at Batavia, the first Dutch brigade to arrive in the Indies. After serving in and around Batavia, he participated in the police action from Padang.
Jan was able to tell us much about the beauty and splendor of our Indies; that alone would be enough to fill a book. He had a lot of contact with the native population, who were generally very well-disposed towards our boys. „I consider it a privilege that I was able to experience all this,” Jan said, „I will always have pleasant memories of my time in service.”
Aaltensche Courant, 11 June 1948
Besides the joyful entry into Aalten, Jan was especially struck by the extraordinary reception given to the returning soldiers in IJmuiden and Amsterdam. Thousands of people were out on the streets; it was grand. „I am, of course, very happy to be home again; it is now a matter of getting back to work as soon as possible.” We also wish Jan all the best and much happiness in the future.
Return from the East
De Graafschapper, 5 July 1948
On Saturday, our fellow townsmen, the volunteers Stronks (Haart 10) and Weevers (1st Broekdijk), returned from the Indies. Mr. Neerhof (Trompstraat) also returned. He stayed in the tropics for 13 years. Upon his return, the A.O.V. performed a serenade. We hope to return to this in more detail in tomorrow’s edition.
Home again after 13 years
De Graafschapper, 6 July 1948
In 1935, the brothers H. and J.H. Neerhof left for the Indies as members of the KNIL. Now, after 13 years, both have returned home safely. Because of this special event, we paid them a visit to congratulate them on their safe return. It appeared that both had led a quiet and good life until 1942.
When the war broke out, both were taken prisoner of war. Both ended up at the so-called Death Railway, the railway line from Thailand to Indo-China. One on one side and the other on the other side. However, they never had the opportunity to speak to each other there. J.H. Neerhof then went to Indo-China, where he remained until the end of the war. He was full of praise for the treatment he received from the French there.
H. Neerhof was transferred from Thailand to Japan, where he went to work in the coal mines of Kyushu. After the capitulation, he was transferred via Nagasaki—where he saw the destruction caused by the atomic bomb—to the Philippines. In Manila, he spent 2 months in quarantine with the Americans. After that, he returned to the Indies, where his brother had also returned in the meantime.
On April 23, they met again in Batavia for the first time in 13 years. About 6 weeks ago, H. Neerhof came home, and on Saturday, J.H. Neerhof arrived. Both stated they were very moved by the homecoming prepared for them here. A fantastic homecoming, as they stated several times.
The memorial for people in hiding (Onderduikersmonument) on Stationsstraat is an expression of gratitude from those who were once in hiding to the people of Aalten for their hospitality, and to the members of the Resistance who were the driving force behind finding accommodation for them.
The monument consists of a brick memorial wall with a fountain. A bronze plaque and two sculpted fragments of natural stone are set into the memorial wall.
The monument was unveiled on 4 October 1947 by Mrs D.G. Wikkerink-Eppink, the wife of Resistance leader Hendrik Jan (Ome Jan) Wikkerink.
The text on the plaque reads (translated from Dutch):
PRESENTED TO THE MUNICIPALITY OF AALTEN BY PERSONS IN HIDING WHO DURING THE YEARS OF OCCUPATION 1940-1945 FOUND A SAFE HAVEN HERE.
The sculpted fragments bear the text of Psalm 91:5 and 6.
The text of the left fragment reads:
THOU SHALT NOT BE AFRAID FOR THE TERROR BY NIGHT, NOR FOR THE ARROW THAT FLIETH BY DAY; NOR FOR THE PESTILENCE THAT WALKETH IN DARKNESS, NOR FOR THE DESTRUCTION THAT WASTETH AT NOONDAY.
The text of the right fragment reads:
FOR HE SHALL COVER THEE WITH HIS FEATHERS, AND UNDER HIS WINGS SHALT THOU TRUST.
The sculpture on the left depicts three studded boots belonging to the barbarian horde, threatening to trample a young, sprouting fruit. This symbolises the overwhelming force and occupation, portraying the vulnerability of young life that continues to germinate despite the danger. The fragment on the right depicts a pelican with outspread wings, protecting its nest and young. The pelican is a Christian symbol of total self-sacrifice; according to legend, the bird feeds its young with its own blood. It symbolises the contribution of the resistance in the struggle against the occupier. The waning swastika in the background represents the transience of the threat.
The Oosterkerk in Aalten houses a monumental stained-glass window dating from 1946. The window was gifted by a committee from the Reformed Church of Rotterdam-Kralingen, on behalf of the churches and the Jewish community, as a token of thanks for the assistance provided by the people of Aalten during World War II to those in hiding (onderduikers), Jewish fellow citizens, the starving, and hundreds of children from Rotterdam.
Rev. Thomas Delleman (1898–1977)
Thomas Delleman (1898–1977) served as a minister in Aalten from 1930 to 1938 before moving to Rotterdam-Kralingen. Following the Bombing of Rotterdam in May 1940, he took the initiative to arrange for children from his new parish to stay in Aalten for a holiday. During the war years, a total of approximately 800 children from Rotterdam were taken in by host families in Aalten.
Delleman contributed in other ways as well. He ensured that young men wishing to evade the Arbeitseinsatz (forced labour) could go into hiding in Aalten. Furthermore, in 1943, around 500 evacuees from Scheveningen were accommodated in Aalten. During the ‘Hunger Winter’, trains carrying food regularly departed from Aalten for the west of the country.
This dedication made a profound impression in Rotterdam and led to the formation of a committee after the liberation to thank the people of Aalten.
Origin of the Commemorative Window
Initially, the intention was to place the window in the Westerkerk, as more than forty young men had been arrested there during a roundup (razzia) in 1944. However, all the windows in the Oosterkerk had been shattered after a V1 rocket landed nearby in January 1945. Consequently, it was decided to install the window in the Oosterkerk instead.
The window was designed by the Rotterdam artist Marius Richters (1878–1955) and executed by glazier Henri van Lamoen (1900–1949). With a height of eight metres and a width of over three metres, it is one of the largest stained-glass windows in the Achterhoek. Richters utilised bold colours and clear, almost narrative scenes that express both the threat of war and the warmth of the relief efforts.
The window was installed in the front facade of the Oosterkerk and officially unveiled by Rev. Delleman on 13 July 1946. The ceremony was broadcast live on the radio by the NCRV.
Design
The window is over eight metres high and three metres wide, set within a trifora.
Commemorative Window in the Oosterkerk, Aalten
At the top: The coat of arms of the Netherlands with the motto “Je maintiendrai”. Below this is the Dutch Maiden, holding the flag in her right hand and a burning torch in her left. On either side stand a farmer and a bricklayer, referring to the post-war reconstruction.
Central: A farmer and his wife, symbolising the people of Aalten, surrounded by children and a person in hiding. From both sides, German soldiers with bayonets march into the scene.
Bottom left: Emaciated women and children pleading for help.
Bottom right: A group of people who have been helped, returning home supplied with foodstuffs.
Bottom centre: The coat of arms of Aalten featuring the linden tree and the coat of arms of the House of Orange, with a scroll reading: “Uit dankbaarheid voor hulp in oorlogstijd, soli Deo gloria” (In gratitude for help in wartime, to God alone the glory). Biblical texts are incorporated elsewhere in the window.
In 1947, two side windows were added to either side of the main window. These feature the symbols of the four Evangelists, images of Moses and Isaiah, and at the bottom, the coats of arms of Rotterdam, Scheveningen, Utrecht, Amsterdam, Kralingen, and a Star of David.
At the base of the side windows are lines of verse by Muus Jacobse (pseudonym of the poet Klaas Heeroma):
Maar als ik leven mag tot de bevrijding en juichen op het overwinningsfeest, God, doe mij dan dit weten, wat voorbijging aan nood en leed is niet vergeefs geweest.
(But if I may live until the liberation and rejoice at the victory feast, God, then let me know this: that the hardship and suffering which passed was not in vain.)
Current Status
The commemorative window can still be seen in the Oosterkerk. When the church was repurposed as a residential care location in 2021, it was formally agreed that the window would be preserved. This ensures the window remains not only an artwork of exceptional scale but also a lasting war monument and a tangible reminder of the aid and hospitality offered by Aalten during World War II.
Quite unexpectedly, H.M. the Queen paid a visit to our municipality. On Wednesday afternoon, the cars carrying H.M. the Queen, her secretary, Miss Geldern, and her secretary, Mr. Kohnstam, arrived from the direction of Dinxperlo and stopped in front of the home of the alderman of Aalten, Mr. H. J. Wikkerink, better known in illegal circles by the name of “Oome Jan”.
“Oome Jan” has a respectable record of service in the underground movement during the years of occupation and currently resides in his workshop “Nooit Gedacht”, as the Germans, out of rage that they could not capture “Oome Jan”, set fire to his house next door. The Wikkerink family had been informed of the royal visit only moments before.
Her Majesty, who arrived around one o’clock, stayed for more than half an hour in the home of “Oome Jan” and enjoyed a cup of tea with relish. Meanwhile, several prominent workers from the illegal movement had gathered in the living room and were soon engaged in a busy conversation with Her Majesty.
H.M. leaves the emergency dwelling “Nooitgedacht” in Aalten
From the conversations, it appeared that She was already aware of the important work carried out here in the Achterhoek during the war years, and She inquired with interest about various details. Both “Oome Jan” and Messrs. Lichtenberg of the L.O. and Allersma of the K.P. spoke of the underground work and the dangerous tasks that had to be completed. They also recalled the spontaneous cooperation of the population and the aid to the West in the form of wagonloads of rye bread, which were sent at a very low price.
A charming detail was also the presence of Mrs. Jedwab with her young son, who at the time had been left as a foundling on the doorstep of “Oome Jan’s” home while the parents were in hiding. This Jewish boy was then lovingly taken in and given the name Willem Herfstink, as autumn had just made its entry that day. Rev. Kuijper also spoke of the razzia, which was held on January 29, 1944, in the Reformed Church, during which 42 people in hiding were arrested and only a few were able to escape. The mayor, who was also present at “Oome Jan’s”, also shared some information about the events of the past years.
Originally, it had been H.M.’s intention during her journey through these regions to visit the “Somsenhuus”, the farm of Mr. Prinsen in IJzerlo, where so much underground work was performed in recent years. Members of the K.P. found shelter here for a long time, as did a number of English pilots who awaited liberation here. This farm burned down after the liberation due to a lightning strike. This visit did not take place. Between Dinxperlo and Aalten, the cars turned into a side road near the Prinsenboschje, where the party had some refreshments in the car.
A massive crowd had gathered in front of “Oome Jan’s” home, where the monarch was heartily cheered. Upon her departure, the Wilhelmus was enthusiastically sung. This day will surely remain long in the memory of “Oome Jan” and his comrades, who so often risked their lives in the struggle against the oppressor and did so much for our people and fatherland.
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