Chapter 11 - Koba and Betsy

During the war, the Dutch Railway workers went on strike in response to a request from the Queen, causing food shortages and starvation. The Germans launched the V-1, a new weapon, which devastated parts of The Hague. The Verhagens faced scarcities and struggled to find food. The school was only open three days a week due to the fuel shortage and lack of teachers. Uncle Corr helped by finding a hiding place for two little girls and providing a false birth certificate for Trixie. The girls brought sweetness to the family, but they were disappointed when St. Nicholas didn't visit. Beggars often came to the mill for food. Liender questioned the girls' presence, but Mother defended them and criticized Dutchmen who worked for the enemy. Chapter 11 Koba and Betsy On the 17th of September, as the attack on Arnhem started, Radio Orange asked the Dutch Railways to go on strike. It was the Queen herself who requested it. The Dutch Railway people obeyed at once, though it meant going into hiding. Now there were no more trains to transport cattle, food, fuel, and men into Germany, but there also were no trains to bring food to the cities, and many Dutch people faced starvation. The Germans had invented a new weapon, which they were to use against England, the V-1. It was launched in The Hague and made a tremendous racket, which could be heard for miles around. The V-1s that failed to go up properly fell and devastated whole areas of The Hague. There was much misery too in Zeeland, where the Allies had been forced to blow up the dikes to inundate the fortifications of the Germans. In Arnhem, the fight was going badly. Many people were homeless there, trekking toward the west of Holland, trundling their possessions and handicrafts. The Verhagens heard about all this suffering over the radio or through the underground paper, but even the ordinary Nazi-controlled papers began to be full of distressing items. As October and November slipped by, bringing more and more scarcities, hunger, cold arrests, and deportations, the newspapers became depressing literature. Listen to this advertisement, said Mother, one November morning as she sat huddled in her coat, reading The Hague Journal, while the tiny fire at the bottom of the stove tried hard to keep the frost from forming on the windowpane. Who will exchange fuel for a crystal decanter, a silver tray, a razor, and a child's set of building blocks? For this one, for fuel, a black Persian lamb coat, lined worth two thousand florins. Yes, these are hard items, hard times, agreed Flodder Savage. Soon our beautiful trees will fall victim and the country won't be the same anymore. But they've forbidden tree chopping, said Dirt-Chan. You'll see. People will do it anyways, prophesied Father. Joris was playing with the gray cat that she had fetched from the old mill. Mother had said he could keep it. Now he had a dog and a cat. He felt he was the richest boy in the world, and was sorry that others were not as lucky as he. It's getting quite bad in the country, too, continued Mother. I can't get flour or turnip oil in my rations anymore, or matches or sewing thread, and the farmers want more and more money. Some only want to give in exchange for clothes, and we haven't any to spare. It's worse for the people in the cities, said Flodder. We've had our apples and vegetables, and I can always fish for eels, Mother dipped into the paper again. Listen to all these recipes for cooking bowls, she said. Tulip soup, tulip mash, fried tulip, roasted tulip, tulip savory, tulip cookies. What do they think we are, garden plots? It's only a slight difference, said Flodder. Flour instead of flour. People get ill eating that food, worried Mother. See here, it says, using flour bulbs is not without danger. Don't eat crocus, hyacinth, daffodil, or gladoli bulbs. Thanks, I won't, said Flodder. The school was only open three days a week now because of the fuel shortage. There was also a shortage of teachers. The Germans had ordered all men between sixteen and fifty and less engaged in essential work to report for labor in Germany. They were reaching the end of their manpower, fighting on two fronts, and the Dutch would have to work on fortifications or menial jobs, setting Germans free to fight. Naturally, most Dutchmen went into hiding, including many teachers. Mr. Verheygen was doing an essential job, so he did not have to hide. Dirk Jan was still too young. He and Ingold de Vries took turns tagging after Mother and leaned her to find out what he was up to. One day, Dirk Jan saw him nosing about the old town hall, leafing through the birth register. When he told us at home, Mother said right away, he suspects Trixie. I thought he did. Of course she is not registered under our name. No, but they can't trace her back to the Growens, for no one knows they were not all taken. Let her know, said Mother. She is getting to look more and more like her sister. Ruthie with the little redhead too. As usual, it was Uncle Corr who came to the rescue. He arrived one day after dark to ask Mother if she would take in two little girls, the daughters of a railroad station master. Uncle Corr had found another place for the parents. There was no room for the children. Mother said yes, of course, and then she told Uncle Corr of her own trouble. Never mind, he said. That is easily fixed. I can get you a false birth certificate for Trixie and Leighton. You will simply say, if anyone asks, that she was born there while you were visiting me. I'll send the girls and the birth certificate together. Uncle Corr did not have to stay long. He had too much to do. So many people have to have hiding places. A few days after, a lady, a few days later, a lady from the underground brought the little girls and also the birth certificate in a long yellow envelope. The lady exchanged a few words with Mother and then left. The two little girls stood in the unfamiliar living room, tightly clasping each other's hands. They could not understand why they had to leave their dear father and mother and the little red brick house beside the station with its green shutters and laced curtains and the marigolds in the garden. Then one of the little girls saw the cat and she took it into her arms. The cat began to purr. At first, neither little girl would open her mouth, but gradually, encouraged by Mother's smile and a glass of milk, they began to talk. They had had a cat at home, too, they said. It was called Neice. Neice had been the finest cat in Altium. You could ask Miss Dirks if you did not believe it. Miss Dirks had the grocery store at the corner. She always saved scraps for mice and, yes, she was taking care of her for them until they came back. And that would be quite soon, wouldn't it, when the nasty war was over? Kova was in third grade and could read, but Betsy was still learning in her reader about apes, nuts, mice, whim. Yes, the cat in the reader was called Neice, too. Daddy didn't like bread pudding, but when it's war, you've got to eat what there is. Isn't that right? Soon, it was impossible to stop them from chattering. They were charming little girls with round faces, big blue eyes, and tightly-plated pigtails which curved around like commas. Mother made their bed in the second-crest bed of the living room. The boys would have to sleep on mattresses in the first attic. It was more crowded now in the little living room. It was much more work for Mother, too. But the girls brought a special sort of sweetness with them. Trixie loved them, and they played so nicely with her that Mother found herself freer to do the housework. They helped in other ways, too. They neatly folded their clothes and made their own bed. They set the table for Mother and washed the dishes for her, and in the evenings they'd sit on a bench, their fair heads together, fondling the cats and telling each other stories. The trouble was that they were looking forward very much to a visit from St. Nicholas. There was so little Mother could do about it. The shops were empty of sweets. In normal years, they would have been full of the most fascinating confections in pink and white and gold. There were no toys, either, and Mother had little time to make anything without oil for lamps, and the days were very short. The family had to hurry with their evening meal to get it eaten before dark. They had to leave the dishes till the morning. It was not a festive way of life, yet Betsy's faith in St. Nicholas was undaunted. "'He always comes to visit us,' she said. "'But we've moved!' Tobel worried. "'Never mind,' Betsy said. "'He's older. Mrs. Dirks will tell him where we are.' "'And won't the Germans stop him?' Tobel wanted to know. "'No,' said Betty, scornfully. "'St. Nicholas is much smarter than those old Germans.' "'But they've got guns!' Tobel was still worried. "'You'll see,' Betty assured her. "'He'll be here. There's a big bag full of candy.' It brought tears to Mother's eyes, how disappointed the child would be. Then the time arrived, and nothing happened. Often beggars came to the mill now, starving people, young children in rags with emaciated faces, old men on quivering legs, women wrapped in shawls, carrying babies. They came from the cities in search of food, and Mother always gave. She invited them to share a meal. She put a little extra fuel on the stove to warm them. She took from her small hoard of food so that they would have something to carry home. Always they left a little more cheerful than they had come, but it saddened Mother's heart. She could do no more. Then one day, she had another visitor. Liender schemed her haunts. He wanted to know who the little girls were that he saw playing around the mill. "'You collect them, don't you, dear?' he said with a sneer. Mother wanted to know what he meant by that. Had he told her, he'd noticed Trixie had not been registered in the village. Mother showed him the forged birth certificate that obviously disappointed him. It looked quite crestfallen. Trixie would have been such a nice little feather in his cap. With a sigh, he handed the birth certificate back. "'What about you, sir? What about that old bear?' he said, a little less sure of himself. He pointed to Koba and Bestie. Now Mother gave him a piece of her mind. She told him just what she thought of Dutchman, who worked for the enemy. She said he had no business crying in her affairs. But for his information, the girls were nieces of hers, who hadn't enough to eat in the city, and had come here for their health. "'Did he want to see their birth certificates, too?' she asked sarcastically. Liender was already backing out of the room. When he had gone, Mother saw Joris staring at her. "'What a lot of lies you told!' he said in a shocked voice. Mother sat down beside him and took one of his lean brown hands in hers. "'Darling,' she said, "'Don't you know that if I hadn't told Liender lies about Trixie and Koba and Bestie, we'd have the Germans here in no time to fetch them in their van. Do you think God wanted me to tell the truth?' Joris frowned. "'No,' he admitted. "'But Father Koba says a lie is always bad.' "'Normally, yes,' he breathed, Mother. "'It is bad when you hide the truth from someone who has a right to it. And in a normal world, where people try to obey God, everyone has a right to the truth. But when you know that the other person is going to use the truth to rob and maim and kill, do you think he still has a right to it? The Germans, and may God forgive them, broke their treaty with us, invaded our country, bombed our cities, chased away our lawful government, killed or deported our men, women, and children, robbed us of anything they could lay their hands on. Do you think they have a right to the truth? And Liendert was in the pay of the Germans. You are right to hate lies, my dear, but remember that truth itself becomes a lie in the twisted minds of our conquerors.' Mother had spoken passionately, and Joris nodded. He had felt it all vaguely himself, but it had been a shock to hear Mother say something which was not true. Then he looked at the fair little girls in red-headed tripsies, and was glad that Mother had lied. THE END