After they let me free, I went to my room and picked up my suitcase. Then I immediately went back to ‘s-Hertogenbosch. Afterwards, I heard how it was possible that they had let me go. My parents had some acquaintances in ‘s-Hertogenbosch, and one of them was a military officer, whose brother had the German nationality and worked for the German SS. He was stationed in The Hague. My father asked that acquaintance to introduce him to his brother (the SS-officer). Which happened. My father went to The Hague and succeeded to have a meeting with him. I don’t know what my father said, but the officer told my father that he couldn’t promise anything but that he would look into it. After that, he gave Amsterdam the assignment to let me go. Meanwhile, my friend with whom I went to that comedy show, also tried to get me out of prison. He went to the Euterpestraat with my identity card. When he arrived, they kicked him off the stairs.
Many other people where arrested (during raids) in that time. They where transported to camp Vught or Westerbork, and from there to Poland. A friend of mine survived camp Dachau. In Amsterdam, there was a night-clock from 20:00. I only could visit friends from the same block by climbing to them via rooftops.
In s’-Hertogenbosch, we lived in the city centre. From our house at the Visstraat 27, we lived on the top floor, we could see the train station. Not far from our house was the Wilhelmina Bridge, which was blown up two times by the Germans. On the ground floor, there was the Amsterdamsche Bank N.V., where we often took shelter in the basement during the heavy fights. Before the war, the basement was used for shareholders to check their papers.
I remember one certain moment with a German nun from the hospital. She badly needed to go to the toilet. We only had a bucket in the basement where you could do your needs. When she couldn’t hold it anymore, she told us “die Männer” (the men) to stand in a circle with our backs to the bucket (*laughing out loud*), so she could do her needs. Above us, it was really dangerous. It were difficult times. We even couldn’t take a shower, because the water taps were closed down. When we had to hide in the basement, we were there with around 15 people most of the time, including two butchers, the banker, his wife, the concierge and my parents. Wies, my sister, worked in Amsterdam during that time as a nurse at the “Het Wilhelmina Gasthuis”. She experienced the hunger winter in Amsterdam.