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IN THIS ISSUE

• Les Davison is sheltered by Dutch families in his determined escape
• Kate Brookfield attends the celebration of Ernest Blaschke's life
• Dixie Augusteijn remembers Ernest's talented wife, Elsie
• Here is the first instalment of the story Ernest wrote long ago
• Peter Rollo tells the story of a frustrated young policeman
• Jack Peaker makes some observations about people over 50
• Gerrrit de Leeuw forwards a letter about the important things
• Don Henderson describes his rather eccentric doctor
• Bruce Galway and Catherine Green suggest websites

Les Davison and other three other fugitives are hiding out in a Dutch farm in his

WARTIME MEMORIES

Around three p.m. a lone bicyclist came and introduced himself as a member of the "Onderduikers". He told us that we would be split up and would go to different families who had agreed to take us in until some other plan was devised for our eventual return to the Allied lines. He asked who would like to go first and, as the two Glider Pilots wanted to stay together, and Capt. Noble said he would go last, I went with this man, whom I now know as Jan ter Wal, on the crossbar of his bicycle.

We travelled along forest footpaths and side roads for about three quarters of an hour and finally came to a small village, where we stopped at a typical Dutch residence and I was ushered inside. I was introduced to the family, which consisted of Ma and Pa, four sons and a maid. Only two of them gave me their names, these were two of the teenage sons, Jan and Fokke. It turned out that these two were the only active members of the underground in the family, but in effect, it didn't make much difference if you were active or not if you were found hiding escapers. The penalty was a shot in the head for the whole family and the burning of the house. I found myself constantly amazed at these brave people, especially when I discovered that there was a small contingent of German soldiers billetted only a few doors away. The head of the family was the manager of the local public baths and consequently had frequent dealings with the 'Moffen' (derogatory slang for Germans).

In fact some of the German non-commissioned officers would come in for coffee in the mornings while I would sit in the living room, in civilian clothes, and pretend to be the "deaf and dumb cousin from Amsterdam". Like most of the Dutch people who helped us, the Dijkstras (I only learned their name after the war) were very religious and we always said grace before meals with a short reading from the Bible afterwards.

On the only Sunday I was with them I was left at the house with the oldest son while they all went off to church. Also on that same Sunday afternoon, Jan and Fokker asked me if I would like to accompany them on a walk in the woods. I suggested that this might be dangerous for all of us but they pooh-poohed the idea and said not to worry as they were well-known to the local soldiers and I had already been accounted for as the cousin from Amsterdam. It was quite an experience to be walking around and nodding to the Germans whom we met frequently.

After being with the Dijkstras for about ten days, Jan ter Wal came and spent some time talking with the family, after which he told me to get my things as we were going to another safe house. I asked if there was a problem and he said yes, the Moffen were making frequent raids trying to find the escapers who had been ambushed on "Pegasus Two". Pegasus One was a similar operation, a few weeks earlier, which had succeeded. The Germans were making house-to-house searches as they were aware that about one hundred of us were in the vicinity and it was obvious that we were being hidden by the local populace. In view of this, it had been decided that I would be safer in some other place, quite some distance from where I was.

Consequently I left with Jan, on the crossbar of his bicycle again, and rode in this manner for about 15 kilometres to a farm, which I found out after the war, was in the village of Scherpenzeel. When we arrived I was surprised to find two paratroopers already in residence and also this place was Jan's hideout. I was introduced to the family, Wynand, the farmer, his wife, Maagi, and two boys whose names I have forgotten. The two paras also introduced themselves. They were Sgt. Keith "Tex" Banwell and Vic Moore, a private from the 1st Battalion. These two had been there for two weeks, since immediately after the Pegasus Two ambush.

We three Paras slept in the chicken house and spent our days helping with the farm chores. It was the least we could do, considering that Wynand and his family were risking their lives and property by hiding us. A few days after I had arrived we were told that there was a Razzia going on in the area and that we would have to go into the woods at the rear of the farm right away. The S.S. were constantly making raids on the farms and houses, rounding up all males between 16 and 65 for work on the defenses on the River Ijsel. They also probably hoped to find some of the escapers in the process. We were all dressed in coveralls and wearing "klompen" (Dutch wooden clogs), so that we became part of the landscape when working outside in the fields.

Jan, who was the only Dutch person at the farm who could speak English, said that we should run quickly into the bush at the rear of the farm, split up, and hide wherever we could find a suitable spot. This way, if the S.S. caught anyone, the others had a good chance of being undetected. While running across the ploughed fields, which were quite muddy, I lost one of my wooden clogs, I then stepped out of the other one as it was impeding my progress, picked up both shoes and ran with them into the woods. Maagi, Wynand's wife, and the children stayed in the farmhouse while an S.S. Officer and four other ranks searched the house thoroughly to no avail. Jan told us afterwards that Maagi and the children had been questioned at some length by the S.S. officer as to the whereabouts of the farmer, and apparently convinced him that he had already been taken away for forced labour.

After the raid the farm returned to its usual routine, which included numerous visits by various underground members, who used it as a meeting place to plan their sabotage raids against the Germans. It was also used as a resting place and safe house for Onderduikers and escapers on the move. A frequent visitor was 'Willems', who was a captain in the underground army and leader of the local group. I have known Willems as Henk van Bentum since 1969, which was the first time I had attended the annual re-unions and remembrances of the Battle of Arnhem. These are held always on the weekend after the 17th September, which was the date of the original drop. Henk began a small transport company after the war which grew into one of the larger trucking companies in Holland, and retired some years ago. Both Henk and Wynand were honoured by the American people for their work in hiding and assisting U.S. flyers to escape. They were presented with special medals and certificates of appreciation by President Carter in Washington, D.C.

To be continued.

Kate Brookfield describes

THE CELEBRATION OF ERNEST BLASCHKE'S LIFE

Family and friends of Ernest Blaschke met at his daughter's home in Georgetown to celebrate his life. The family included his two daughters, Lisa and Catherine, and sons-in-law, five grandchildren, Lisa's mother-in-law and husband, and Ernest's cousin. The friends included neighbours and his computer friends.

The family wanted the event to be a happy social occasion as this is what Ernest would have wanted. The room displayed some of the beautiful silk wall hangings designed and hand sewn by Ernest's wife, Elsie. There was also a painting of Ernest a child. The table was laden with a wonderful spread of fruit and delicious cakes.

In welcoming everybody and thanking them for coming, Lisa remarked on how difficult it is to think of one parent without the other, as Ernest and his late wife Elsie were very close, doing everything together. She remembered their patience with her and her sister, always having time to teach them new skills. Catherine mentioned how they travelled a lot as a family and Ernest always made places exciting because of his knowledge of the places they visited. All paid tribute to Ernest's fine mind, particularly his knowledge of math, science, medical expertise, and especially his knowledge of drugs, as he was a chemist by profession. The grandchildren remember his teaching them chess and other games and being able to answer all their questions on any topic. They especially liked to get him to talk about the universe. Also mentioned was his love of the computer and all the friends he made through e-mailing. The computer friends present praised him for organizing our regular lunch meetings so we could meet in person.

It was a common consensus that although Ernest was a very private and humble person, he always had time to help others, whether is was with family, helping his daughter and son-in-law find their first home, or buying a car, helping computer friends with technical problems, or researching new places for lunch meetings.

Ernest and Elsie will both be missed by their family and friends, but they have left many happy memories of their respective lives.

Dixie Augusteijn remembers Elsie Blaschke, who predeceased her husband after a long illness:

A TALENTED WOMAN

I had heard of Elsie's work but never met her until we were at a craft conference in Japan. We were invited to a museum devoted to kimonas, where we were shown the most beautiful examples while they explained to us how the kimonas were worn. Then they chose Elsie as a model. She was gorgeous. They chose a pale yellow for the inner kimona and then deeper colours followed deeper colours to the outer kimona, which was the same colour as Elsie's hair. Then it was all held together by a pale green obi, or sash. I had a colour slide which - I think - I sent on to Ernest.

Elsie had wonderful talent and an eye for colour. Her tapestries, done in the reverse applique technique, using Thai silk, glow with colour and are well worthy of their place in the Museum of Man in Ottawa. I have never seen textile work anywhere of the same calibre.

Ernest was a devoted husband and cared for her so well in her last years; when they had to give up their home on account of the stairs, taking an apartment close enough to the hospital so he could take her over in a wheel chair. It was a privilege to know both of them.

In memory of Ernest, I am republishing the story he wrote about his experiences during and after World War II. Here is the first instalment, which appeared in the fourth issue of the first volume of the newsletter:

LIFE IN VIENNA DURING AND AFTER WW II

This relates some of my experiences during and after the end of world war II in 1945. At the time I was a teenager in Vienna, and some of you might find a first-hand report interesting.

Vienna was, and now is again, the capital of Austria. The language spoken in Austria is German. The country borders on Germany.

In 1938, with German troops massed on the Austrian border, there was a vote in Austria for or against joining Germany. The vote was heavily in favour of joining. How much pressure was applied at the time for the "correct outcome", I don't know, but in fact there were many true "Nazis" in Austria, and many others seemed to think joining the poorer Austria with its richer neighbour, Germany, might bring economic betterment. In any event, in March 1938, Austria became the "Ostmark", a province of Germany, and Hitler toured the city through streets with a large welcoming crowd.

The war years: (1939-1945):

Germans had always been known to be very methodical people. They employed all the now common methods of dictatorships:

(1) Hero-worship (in this case of "The Fuehrer", Hitler);

(2) Attendant ceremonies (rallies, "Heil Hitler" salute);

(3) Indoctrination of the young (formations of political youth groups: "DJ" <deutsche "Jugend" for young boys>; "HJ <Hitler Jugend for older ones>; "BDM" <Bund deutscher Maedchen> for girls>. All in uniform, of course.)

(4) Heavy censorship. Listening to a foreign newscast on the radio could get you sent to a concentration camp. In fact, Germany manufactured and sold special radios, called "Volksempfaenger" (people's receivers). They were very cheap but were designed to exclude long-distance signals, so that messages from Switzerland (the only country outside of German reach in Austria's vicinity) would not be heard. In fact, neutral Switzerland had daily broadcasts of both the official German and British newscasts, and listening to them, you could hardly believe they described the same war. Whether both sides lied or just the Germans, I don't know, but I always assumed the truth was halfway in between.

(5) Extermination of undesirables. (In this case, mostly Jews, but also political undesirables, such as Communists). The "German efficiency" with which this was practised achieved new heights.

(6) Use of slogans, etc.: All subway stations were plastered with huge signs such as these: "Raeder muessen rollen fuer den Sieg!" (Wheels must roll for Victory!) "Pssst ... Feind hoert mit!" (Silence ... the enemy listens in!) "Der Kohlenklau" beside a picture of a grubby person carrying a big sack of coal on his back. (The coal hoarder - coal was the heating material of choice).

(7) Caricatures of Churchill, Stalin, and later, Roosevelt as life-size targets at amusement parks, where you could take shots at them rather than at conventional targets.

So much for background material. In future messages, I'll relate some personal experiences of the end of the war, and the subsequent Russian occupation, and why Austria never suffered the fate of Germany of being divided into East and West.

To be continued.

Peter Rollo, who now lives with his wife in Perth, the capital of Western Australia, served for 36 years in the West Australian Police Force, finishing with the rank of Superintendent, and retired in July, 1984. He wrote this story about a young policeman:

NOT BAD FOR A FIRST TRY

The cop had been on duty at police headquarters in Perth for weeks but had not brought in a charge against anyone doing anything wrong. The sergeant bawled: "Listen, Constable, people do wrong things all the time. Either you bring in a charge or you're out of a job. Get me?"

"Yes, Sarge," said the constable, "but could you tell me something they might do that is wrong?"

The sergeant let off steam. "Constable!" he yelled. "Have you ever seen a man urinating against a fence?"

"Of course, Sergeant. All the blokes in the muster room do that."

The sergeant swallowed a little tablet labelled "blood pressure only". He stroked his face, looked up to the ceiling, and said, "Constable, such action is deemed Indecent Exposure. Bring in a charge!" and swallowing another tablet labelled "excessive blood pressure only", roared, "Get Out! Get Out!"

The young constable picked up his torch and handcuffs and went looking. He shone his torch down a side alley, and there close to the fence and pointing in the direction similar to that adopted by a person indulging in Indecent Exposure, was a man. Having just been threatened with the dole, the constable raced down the alleyway, flashed his torch on the said man and demanded, "What are you doing?"

The man casually turned his head slightly toward the uniformed gentleman of the Western Australian Police Force and said, "I'm having a homosexual relationship with the person in front of me. Have you any objections?"

The reply from the frustrated constable was, "Just as well you were not urinating or I'd have charged you with Indecent Exposure."

Jack Peaker sends these questions and answers for

PEOPLE OVER 50

Q: Where can women over the age of 50 find young, sexy men, who are interested in them?
A: Try a bookstore under fiction.

Q: What can a man do while his wife is going through menopause?
A: Keep busy. If you're handy with tools, you can finish the basement. When you are done you will have a place to live.

Q: How can you increase the heart rate of your 50+ year old husband?
A: Tell him you're pregnant.

Q: How can you avoid spotting a wrinkle every time you walk by a mirror?
A: The next time you're in front of a mirror, take off your glasses.

Q: Why should 50+ year old people use valet parking?
A: Valets don't forget where they park your car.

Q: Is it common for 50+ year olds to have problems with short-term memory storage?
A: Storing memory is not a problem; retrieving it is a problem.

Q: As people age, do they sleep more soundly?
A: Yes, but usually in the afternoon.

Q: Where do 50+ year olds look for fashionable glasses?
A: Their foreheads.

Q: What is the most common remark made by 50+ year olds when they enter antique stores?
A: "I remember these."

Ed. Note: From the perspective of an 85-year-old, I think these should be directed at people over 75 - or 80!

Gerrit de Leeuw sends this letter, which was written by an 83-year-old who had gained perspective on

THE IMPORTANT THINGS IN LIFE

I'm reading more and dusting less. I'm sitting in the yard and admiring the view without fussing about the weeds in the garden. I'm spending more time with my family and friends and less time working. Whenever possible, life should be a pattern of experiences to savor, not to endure. I'm trying to recognize these moments now and cherish them.

I'm not "saving" anything; we use our good china and crystal for every special event such as losing a pound, getting the sink unstopped, or the first amaryllis blossom. I wear my good blazer to the market. My theory is if I look prosperous, I can shell out $28.49 for one small bag of groceries. I'm not saving my good perfume for special parties, but wearing it for clerks in the hardware store and tellers at the bank. "Someday" and "one of these days" are losing their grip on my vocabulary. If it's worth seeing or hearing or doing, I want to see and hear and do it now.

I'm not sure what others would've done had they known they wouldn't be here for the tomorrow that we all take for granted. I think they would have called family members and a few close friends. They might have called a few former friends to apologize and mend fences for past squabbles. I like to think they would have gone out for a Chinese dinner or for whatever their favorite food was. I'm guessing; I'll never know.

It's those little things left undone that would make me angry if I knew my hours were limited. Angry because I hadn't written certain letters that I intended to write one of these days. Angry and sorry that I didn't tell my husband and parents often enough how much I truly love them. I'm trying very hard not to put off, hold back, or save anything that would add laughter and luster to our lives. And every morning when I open my eyes, I tell myself that it is special.

Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we might as well dance.

Don Henderson wants to tell you about

HIS DOCTOR

Let me tell you about my doctor. He is very good.

If you tell him you want a second opinion, he will go out and come In again.

He treated one woman for yellow jaundice for three years before he realized she was Chinese.

Another time he gave a patient six months to live. At the end of the six months, the patient hadn't paid his bill, so the doctor gave him another six months.

While he was talking to me his nurse came in and said, "Doctor, there is a man here who thinks he is invisible." The doctor said, "Tell him I can't see him."

Another time a man came running in the office and yelled, "Doctor, my son just swallowed a roll of film!" The doctor calmly replied, "Let's just wait and see what develops."

One patient came in and said, "Doctor, I have a serious memory problem." The doctor asked, "When did it start?" The man replied, "When did what start?"

I remember one time I told my doctor I had a ringing in my ears. His advice: Don't answer it.

My doctor sure has his share of nut cases. One said to him, "Doctor, I think I'm a bell." The doctor gave him some pills and said, "Here, take these, and if they don't work, give me a ring."

Another guy told the doctor that he thought he was a deck of cards. The doctor simply said, "Go sit over there. I'll deal with you later."

When I told my doctor I broke my leg in two places, he told me to stop going to those places.

But doctors can be so frustrating. You wait a month and a half for an appointment and he says, "I wish you had come to me sooner."

RECOMMENDED SITES

Bruce Galway recommends this site, which we have seen before, but if my dismal performance is any indication of how quickly one can sort out these countries, then we need to do it again. Drag the country's name onto the map. There is no humbling score nor time limit, but rather this exercise is a learning tool. Don't fear making an error, and once you finish the puzzle, you will be far more educated about this very intense section of our world.

http://www.rethinkingschools.org/just_fun/games/mapgame.html

For anyone wishing to become a banker for the poor, Catherine Green sends this url for an organization that makes small loans that help entrepreneurs in developing countries become independent: http://www.kiva.org/app.php

"We must not, in trying to think about how we can make a big difference, ignore the small daily differences we can make which, over time, add up to big differences that we often cannot foresee." - Marian Wright Edelman