Mae gen i dipyn o dŷ bach twt, o dŷ bach twt, o dŷ bach twt,
Ac yma byddaf yn llon fy myd, yn llon fy myd, yn llon fy myd— Welsh children’s song
I have a tidy little house, a tidy little house, a tidy little house
And here I will be happy and content, happy and content, happy and content
The house was the home of Kees and Lies Hagenaars, the latter being the lady we had followed from the station. They led us to the third floor room, which had been prepared for us. They explained that Kees’ father and mother had rooms on the second floor, but we were unlikely to meet them. There was also a housemaid who had been informed of our situation, and could be thoroughly trusted to keep our secret. Finally, there was a dog, who we would meet later, and it turned out to be an extremely friendly though typically slobbery Boxer.
We were instructed to be very careful about appearing in windows, especially downstairs, as even the neighbours would not be told about us. Should the house be raided suddenly by the Germans, we were to make our way up to the attic and get out through the window onto the roof, at which point we would be entirely on our own, and would have to make good our escape any way we could.
The Hagenaars lived in considerable style, the house was quite luxurious. Kees was a businessman who ran the leading stationery and book store in Sittard, and was obviously used to the good life, which made the dangerous game they played in helping us very difficult to understand and could only be explained by their deep hatred of the Germans and their atrocities.
Both Kees and Lies could speak very good English, and gave us considerable help in understanding and speaking the Dutch language. We also enjoyed very good food during our stay, sometimes there would be a bottle of wine to accompany the evening meal’ but really the thing we appreciated the most, was the luxury of getting into a comfortable bed at the end of the day, and also being allowed to wallow in a hot bath.
The days passed lazily and comfortably, we both enjoyed and made the most of this period to rejuvenate, and regain our strength. One of our regular diversions, was to watch the comings and goings at the military hospital two hundred yards across the way from us. The first thing we saw each morning when we arose, was the red Nazi flag with the hated black swastika on it. lt gave us a lot of simple satisfaction to make rude signs at it, although at the same time I must admit, that it was awe inspiring to be so close to that blood red monstrosity.
When we were not watching the heil-ing and the jackbooting and the obvious arrogance of the black uniformed Gestapo men, we quietly played cards, or browsed through the small library in the house. We were even able to spend a little time gently sunbathing in a sheltered corner at the rear of the house, safe from prying eyes.
Before leaving our base at Wickenby we had been supplied with our escape photographs. These were contained in our escape kits together with a supply of French, Belgian and Dutch money and also a small compass.
However, when our new friends came to supply us with identity and work permits they were as horrified as we were, to discover that the photographs were the wrong size. Immediately a photographer was brought to us and took pictures. He eventually supplied them to the forger who passed on the magic cards to us.
These were very well received and certainly gave us more confidence to move about the country. I was not to know until after the war, that Pop had signed his incorrectly, and this would have given him away immediately to anyone carrying out a check — luckily this did not happen. I am still in proud possession of those cards.
The other great kindness that the Hagenaars showed towards us was in supplying us with cigarettes. Kees would travel great distances to obtain these, despite the fact that he did not smoke himself. I can still recall the name of those cigarettes: CONSI.
They were made from tobacco grown in Holland and tasted quite foul, but they were very acceptable nevertheless. It apparently gave the Dutch people great joy to consider that the letters CONSI stood for ‘Churchill Over National Socialist Invaders’ — it was little things like this that kept their spirits high.
The mention of spirits reminds me that towards the end of our stay at Sittard, when we got to know our hosts really well they produced a bottle of the Dutch gin called Bols. To those not acquainted with it, it is a heavy oily and potent liquid. The three males unfortunately consumed rather too much of it — and all paid the consequences. I like to think that our weakened condition had something to do with it.
After about three weeks of this very acceptable and comfortable billet we were very rudely and suddenly awakened one night to be told that the Germans were raiding the house next door on some pretext, and we therefore had to move immediately. I had sudden visions of scrambling over rooftops, but thankfully they led us quietly into the back garden and hid us in a tiny tin shed at the far end. In here, we listened most apprehensively to the shouting and banging coming from next door. Happily this soon stopped and we were informed the following morning that it was nothing more serious than two drunken soldiers trying to get a bed for the night. By what providence had they not chosen the Hagenaars’ house?
However, this incident had shaken us all, and within a couple of days we were on our way.
One of Many 