That night, as he lay in bed trying to sleep, Andrew suddenly realized that his birthday had come and gone three days before on May 11. In the midst of the mayhem of the German invasion, Andrew, as well as the other members of his family, had completely forgotten it. Andrew was now twelve years old, old enough, he decided, to do his part in helping to run the Nazis out of his country. All his life he had wanted to go in search of a real adventure, and now one had come to him.
A week later a shiny, black car with swastikas on the front doors drove slowly past the van der Bijl house. Andrew followed the vehicle until it stopped in front of the mayor’s house. A large man in a crisp, gray uniform stepped out of the car and walked straight into the house. A minute later the mayor emerged, looking flustered and carrying a suitcase. Another car pulled up, and four guards began carrying boxes from it into the mayor’s house.
Andrew was astonished when he realized that the Nazis were in the process of setting up a local headquarters in the village. Within days of their arrival, subtle changes had taken place in Sint Pancras. The Nazis made a list of everyone in the village and then issued identity cards. Soon a pouch holding an identity card hung around Andrew’s neck, and Andrew was forbidden to leave the house without it. Ration books were also handed out, to be used to buy food and essential items. To buy something, a person had to show his or her identity card and produce a ration coupon.
At first many residents in the village did not object too much to this system. After all, it helped keep things organized, and the Dutch like to have things organized. But slowly, one step at a time, the Nazis tightened their grip. A curfew was set in place. Everyone had to be inside by ten o’clock each night, and all the telephones in the village were to be handed in to the Nazis. Andrew’s family was too poor to own a telephone and was not affected by this condition, but the lack of news did concern Andrew’s mother and father. Dutch newspapers had to submit all of their articles to German scrutiny. Now the only reliable news came from Dutch newscasters who had fled to London and were broadcasting to Holland from there.
Listening to the news or anything else on the radio was soon banned. The Nazis announced that all radios must be delivered to the mayor’s house. This demand caused quite a debate in Andrew’s family. Andrew’s mother’s only entertainment was listening to radio concerts, and she did not see what business that was of the Nazis. In addition, his father liked to hear the news on the radio, or rather, have one of the children listen to it and then loudly relay the main events to him. Yet someone would pay dearly if the family were caught with a radio after it was supposed to have been handed in. Despite the danger, the family decided to keep the radio, which they moved up into a tiny crawl space at the back of the loft where Andrew slept. The floor in the crawl space was such a hodgepodge of different levels that it seemed unlikely that anyone would find the radio there. Each night one of the children was given the task of going up into the tiny crawl space and listening to the news on the radio. Afterward the child would relay to the rest of the family what he or she had heard.
Andrew suspected that many of their neighbors were doing the same thing, but no one talked about it. Everyone was too afraid of what might happen if the Nazis found out. It was impossible to tell who could be trusted anymore.
In mid-June the radio reported the ominous news that the Nazis had subdued France. German tanks and soldiers were rolling down the Champs-Elysées in Paris.
Soon afterward the situation in Holland changed for the worse. The Germans stopped claiming that they were in the country to help the Dutch. Instead they began using every Dutch resource they could get their hands on to keep the war going. Nothing was too small to escape their notice, not even Mr. van der Bijl’s cabbages or the rubber inner tubes and tires on his bicycle. Andrew’s schoolhouse became an army barracks, and classes were dismissed indefinitely. Andrew, who was now a sixth grader, was not too concerned that school was canceled.
It was not long, however, before Andrew had extra work to do. The Germans went looking for teenage boys, as well as young and middle-aged men, to conscript into the military. No male in the village over the age of fifteen was safe, and that included Andrew’s older brother Ben. Then one day Ben was gone. Andrew’s mother explained that someone from the Dutch Resistance had come to escort Ben to a farm, where he could hide for the duration of the war. As a result, Andrew had to take over his brother’s chores, including washing the family’s clothes, since his mother was not strong enough to do it. As Andrew scrubbed and rinsed the clothes, his mind focused on one thing, and one thing only—how to become a part of the Dutch Resistance.
Chapter 4
Resistance
Andrew had quite a problem to grapple with. He was fairly certain that he would be considered too young to enter the Dutch Resistance unless he got their attention and admiration. But how?
The first scheme he came up with was to get his hands on some fireworks and create a commotion with them. Soon a plan formed in his mind. Alkmaar had a shop that had sold fireworks before the war, and Andrew thought that the owner probably still had some fireworks left. The question then was, what could he trade for fireworks? His father, who was an excellent gardener, had some tomatoes in the garden that the Germans had not yet taken. Andrew decided to take a basket of tomatoes into Alkmaar and see whether he could trade them for fireworks.
Before the war, Andrew would have borrowed his father’s bicycle to make the five-mile trip to Alkmaar. By now, however, the Germans had confiscated all the bikes in the village, so Andrew had to walk the distance. He did not mind, though, since being out in the open helped him clear his mind. When he finally arrived in Alkmaar, Andrew was shocked at how different the place had become. Signs were posted in shop windows and doors that read “No Jews Allowed.” And an anti-Jewish sign had been put up in the public park. An eerie feeling crept over Andrew, who was stunned at the way the Nazis had forced the normally tolerant Dutch people to accept their discrimination. It made him all the more determined to do what he could to help get the Germans and their hate-filled agenda out of Holland.
Andrew located the store that had formerly sold fireworks and stepped inside. “Do you still have any fireworks?” he asked politely.
The man behind the counter nodded and quickly disappeared into the rear of the store. He reemerged a few moments later. “This is all I have left,” he said, placing a small box of run-of-the-mill fireworks on the counter.
Andrew looked at them. They were not exactly what he had wanted. There were no cherry bombs or other crackers that would make a big bang, but since they were all the man had, they would have to do.
“I have no money,” Andrew declared, “but I have these tomatoes.” He lifted the basket he was carrying onto the counter.
The storekeeper picked up one of the tomatoes and squeezed it. “All right,” he finally said. “You have a deal.” With that the storekeeper removed the tomatoes from the basket and replaced them with the fireworks.
Andrew politely thanked the man and turned to leave the store. “Here,” he heard the storekeeper say, and he turned back to look at him. In his hand the storekeeper held a cherry bomb. “It’s the only one I have. Please take it.”
“Thank you. Thank you very much,” Andrew said as he reached out and took the cherry bomb, a broad smile spreading across his face as he did so.
“Now run along home,” the storekeeper said. “You don’t want to be out after curfew.”
Andrew hurried out of the store and set out for Sint Pancras. Along the way he picked some flowers and laid them over the fireworks in the basket to disguise them.
At home Andrew hid the fireworks in the loft where he slept and waited for darkness to fall and his family to fall asleep. Soon the sound of snoring and rhythmic breathing told him the family was asleep. Andrew took the cherry bomb and slipped down the ladder from the loft, tiptoed across the floor, and disappeared out the front door of the house. He had to be careful; it was well after curfew. If the Germans caught him, he would be in real trouble, though he wasn’t too concerned. He could run faster than anyone else in the village, including the Germans.
When Andrew was about to head over the small bridge that led to the dike road, he heard voices—German voices! A patrol was moving his way. Quickly Andrew slipped into the shadow of the house and pressed himself against the wall. One of the German soldiers shined his flashlight at the house, but the light did not illuminate the shadowy corner of the wall Andrew was standing against. Finally the patrol moved on down the road, and when they were gone, Andrew scurried across the bridge and ran as fast as he could in the direction of the mayor’s house.
When he reached the mayor’s house, Andrew positioned himself in the shadows and pulled out the cherry bomb. To increase the adventure of the moment, Andrew decided to wait until the patrol returned from the other end of the village. He did not have to wait long before he heard the crackle of the soldiers’ boots on the road. He waited as the sound got closer and louder. His heart thumped in his chest as the patrol approached. Finally Andrew decided the time was right to light the cherry bomb. But as he was about to light the match, one of the German soldiers spotted him in the shadows and shined a flashlight on him.
“Halt,” barked another of the soldiers.
By now the match had lit, and Andrew touched it to the fuse of the cherry bomb. The fuse began to glow orange as it lit, and Andrew decided it was time to run. He reminded himself that the advantage was his. He could run faster than these German soldiers, and he knew the village better than they did. But as he set out running, Andrew heard a sound he hadn’t accounted for—the click of the bolt in one of the German rifles. It had not occurred to him that the Germans might shoot. All of a sudden he heard the crack of the rifle as its muzzle burst to life. The shot missed its target, and Andrew kept running as hard and fast as he could. Then there was a mighty explosion—the cherry bomb. Andrew wished he could have turned around to see his handiwork, but he had to get away. His life depended on it.
The blast diverted the soldiers’ attention, giving Andrew the advantage. Andrew scurried across a small footbridge and dived into a patch of cabbages growing in a nearby yard. He held himself as close to the ground as possible. In the distance he could see the German soldiers looking for him. But he was well hidden in the darkness, and after an hour the soldiers gave up the search. Satisfied that he’d had enough adventure for one night, Andrew crept home and climbed back into his bed in the loft and fell asleep.
The next morning Andrew awoke feeling very pleased with himself. He headed outside to see whether anyone had heard the explosion in the night and was wondering what it could have been. On the dike road outside the van der Bijl house he encountered Mr. Whetstra.
“Good morning, Andrew,” Mr. Whetstra greeted him. “I hear you went to Alkmaar yesterday. How was your trip?”
“It was fine,” Andrew replied. “But Alkmaar is different now. There are signs in store windows and in the park saying that no Jews are allowed.”
“It is a sorry state of affairs, Andrew,” Mr. Whetstra said. “But I hear things will soon get even worse for the Jews. The Germans are going to make them sew a large yellow Star of David on their clothing, with the word Jood [Jew] inside the star. This is a difficult time for them. Promise me you will pray for them, for all of us. Holland needs our prayers as never before, Andrew. You know that, don’t you?”
Andrew nodded. He wasn’t sure that God could do anything to help their situation, but he did not want to start a religious debate with Mr. Whetstra.
