THE SCARRED OAK. William Walraven
and were tied down to the sturdy brick kitchen stove’s chimney. From the chimney, the cable split up into all directions. The large living and dining room, with the open sliding door between the two, were used as high command’s strategy rooms. Maps covered the walls and were spread over two connecting long tables at all times. A guard was posted at the front door and one in the hall between the basement and the living room.
The only city water tap was in the basement, which created a problem. Every time Martha needed water, it was the guard who had to get it for her. Eric and Johann slept between the soldiers on the kitchen floor, and Paul, who was only four or five years old at the time, slept in his parents’ bedroom.
One early morning, while Eric and Johann were still sound asleep, curled up under the army blankets, it happened. It sounded like a direct hit from a mortar. The whole kitchen went black from the root in the chimney. Everyone jumped to the outside for safety. The noise of a heavy tank on the street superseded the shouted commands from the officers. When daylight broke through, the story unfolded. From one of the last counteroffensive actions, a German tank lost its way and ran right through the village. Turning a corner at too wide of an arc while trying to save his hide, the German tank ran right over the steel corner light post. One of the bundles of telephone cables coming from Eric’s house chimney was connected to this light post and had pulled the chimney completely off the roof. The incident left the kitchen in a mess, but that was all.
A few days later, Eric noticed an armored wagon in front of the house with a small triangle green flag on the antenna. More guards were posted all over the house, and it seemed like everyone was more nervous than normal. It was clearly noticeable that someone very important was inside. It had rained for the last couple of days, and the village streets, broken up by trucks and tanks, changed over into mud a foot deep. The constant traffic of high-ranking officers made the house look like the street itself. Late in the afternoon, a group of very high-ranking officers left the basement, and instead of leaving through the hallway, they took the wrong turn and went through the kitchen to the outside. Martha, preparing the evening meal on the kitchen stove, smiled at the highest-ranking officer. While returning her smile, he said something to her while holding the outside door open for the other officers. Martha, feeling the moist, cold air entering the kitchen, said “Shut the bloody door!” while thinking that she had said, “Please shut the door.” The high-ranking officer lost the smile off his face, but then looking at the warm smiling face of Martha, he returned the smile and hurriedly closed the door. The next day, one of the officers, who had Dutch parents and could speak some Dutch, explained to Martha that she had said “Shut the bloody door!” to general Bratley, the general commander of the American forces. She was very embarrassed and made her apologies but never forgot this incident.
The school had been closed because the American forces needed the space, and Eric and Nico had constantly visited them. The playground was at a slight incline to the school building. At the bottom of the playground was the inlet iron gate, and beside it were the girls’ and boys’ toilettes.
On most days, some American jeeps were parked against the school building, and for Eric and Nico, these were items to play with. Sitting behind the steering wheel, they imagined that they could drive this thing. One day, while playing in one of the jeeps, they released the brake by accident, and the jeep started to move slowly downhill, increasing in speed. The two did not know what to do, so Nico called out, “Eric, jump!” They both jumped onto the playground, and the jeep crashed into the toilet wall, making a big hole in it.
Hearing the crash, some of the soldiers came running out of the building and chased the two boys. They never did catch them, but from that time on, the big metal porch was closed to all visitors except the army.
For days, Frank, an assistant to an American major who used one of the bedrooms, had given Eric candies and big chocolate bars. One day he motioned to Eric to come upstairs because he had more chocolate. In the bedroom, Frank gave Eric a very large box of chocolate. Eric gave him a piece of it while sitting beside him on the bed. Frank put an arm around him and pulled Eric closer. Eric liked it because he was such a nice man. After a while of cuddling, Frank opened his own trousers and, while smiling, took Eric’s hand and guided it into his trousers. Eric felt strange but also some kind of excitement. He felt that it was wrong, what he was doing, because his parents and the pastor had told him that touching himself or another person that way was not only wrong but sinful and that he would have to tell the pastor in his next confession.
But all these thoughts left him when Frank opened Eric’s trousers and started playing with him. After some time, Eric felt his face blushing, and a strange but very pleasant feeling came over him. Shortly thereafter, this feeling became overwhelming, and he pushed Frank’s hand away. Frank kept on stroking himself and made strange noises until he took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped himself clean. Both lay beside each other on the bed, and Frank, now very serious, made Eric understand not to tell anyone—for sure, not his parents.
It had been very strange for Eric (now nearly eleven years old), but it was also very pleasant, and Frank liked it. Many times, they spent time together until after about two months, this group of Americans moved on. Eric never thought that it had been wrong, and he missed Frank.
Some time later, he told Nico all about it and discussed it for a while. Nico did not agree with Eric and mentioned to him that he would have to confess all this to the pastor before he could go to communion again.
“I did notice that you did not go to communion for a while but thought nothing of it. Another problem is,” said Nico, “how are you going to tell our pastor?”
“Oh yes,” Eric answered, “this is a real problem.”
But soon the they found the answer. Eric would drive by bicycle to a village some distance away, where no one knew him, and go to confession there.
“Okay,” Nico answered. “I will go with you next Saturday afternoon because that is the time when priests hold confessions.”
Arriving at this village, Eric and Nico went into the church and noticed a small line-up before the confession booth. When it was Eric’s turn, he told the priest all about his supposed sins.
The priest looked at him through small holes in the sliding board separating the two and said, “Young man, you are not from this village. I know all the children here.”
Eric was shocked. Would he still run into trouble? It was some time before he could answer, but then he lied. “I was driving by your church and want to go to communion tomorrow, so I thought to go to confession here.”
“From which village are you?” the priest asked.
Eric mentioned a different village than his own. The priest gave Eric absolution, but he would have to pray a whole rosary for his sins.
When Eric left the booth, the priest said to him, “By the way, I also forgive you for lying about the village you said you came from.”
On the way home, Eric mentioned the remark of the priest. “How did he know?”
“I don’t know,” Nico answered. “I guess he had this happen time and time again, but who cares? He forgave you for it anyway.”
When the first group of soldiers left the village, a larger division of Americans arrived and moved into one of Willem’s meadows. The large meadow beside the cemetery was covered with army tents, and no one besides army personnel was allowed to enter this meadow. Eric, always looking for a handout, noticed a pair of old worn-out leader army boots lying on the side of a huge pile of empty cans. For weeks, he watched those boots. Leather shoes were impossible to get and were too expensive. The only footwear the youngsters of the village had were wooden shoes. These old army boots would be worth their weight in gold for any youngster. Weeks and weeks went by, and it became an obsession for Eric. He had to have these shoes. Seeing it lying there for everyone to see drove him out of his mind. What about if another boy would notice them and sneak in? He would lose his shoes! Luckily, that a forever-growing pile of cans covered them. Eric, knowing where they were, tied a piece of rope on the fence wire to mark the exact location when the time lent itself for his acquisition of the shoes. Finally, the day came when