A weird smell hangs over the scene and the news is doing the round that we have to leave our town, anybody who stays behind will be shot. Don’t know what to believe, is it just gossip? No, the news is correct, we have to leave; the German High Command has ordered a total evacuation of the whole city. Imagine the consternation as all 93.000 inhabitants were ordered out their homes and told to go. Where? Two bikes and a pram were loaded with the necessary gear such as blankets and food. Us kids, we hid the road with an extra layer of clothes on. Dad and Uncle Frans took care of the bikes, while Mum and the older ones of us pushed the loaded pram in turns.
One big problem had to be solved before we took off into the unknown, what to do with our injured dog?
We couldn’t carry and look after him, impossible, so Uncle Frank approached a German officer in the street, asking him if hewould shoot the dog. The man in uniform refused, he could not kill such a beautiful animal. We had to find another compatriot in arms, someone who didn’t have such qualms. Strange is isn’t, pumping some lead into a dog was harder for these men than shooting human beings.
Ofcourse we were all in tears, to say goodbye to our Ludwig. Dad locked the doors and with a final look at our home with smarting eyes, we were on the way as refugees looking for shelter for the night.
From our neighbours across the road, we heard later, that soon after we left, soldiers forced the doors and looted the place.
After the war a letter was found in which a German wrote to his wife in Essen: ‘I have found a large radio. For you and our daughter I’ve got underwear and a nice gown, the most beautiful tablecloths of damask you’ll ever seen, also an electric iron and water kettle. I will also take a pair of oil paintings for you and wrap them in some blankets. Also kurz gesagt: hier ist wirklich alles zu kriegen, was man sich nur denken kann!’.