Rivierdijk 256 Sliedrecht
During the war he ran our cousin Frans Dubbeldam's bicycle shop in the Kerkbuurt in Sliedrecht. Twice a week Arie had to report to the occupier to do work for them. This was also the case on May 16, 1944. He was on the road early, because he was on his way to Alblasserdam where work had to be done on the bridge for the Germans. When he went to the street, he was immediately arrested and taken to the Grote Kerk. The rumor that a raid was going on spread quickly. My mother - my father was a tugboat captain and put to work in Germany in that capacity - was also soon informed. We knew that all boys between the ages of 18 and 25 would be arrested. For families with sons of that age, it quickly became clear: a safe hiding place had to be found for these boys. My birthday was coming up and I would be 18. So I couldn't take any risk. Together with some other young boys we fled to a nearby shipyard. There we entrenched ourselves among the stored wood. It turned out to be a good choice, because despite the fact that soldiers came to search, we were not found. We hid there all day. Early in the evening, Bas van den Herik and Kees van Hoek, who had hidden with me at the wharf, thought the coast was clear. Unfortunately, this turned out not to be the case: on the way to their parental home, they were arrested after all. With a few other guys, including Piet Verhoef and Nardus Ambachtsheer, we waited at the yard until it was dark. Because we didn't think we were safe then, we sailed together in a rowing boat to the other side of the river. There in the polder we also spent a whole day without food and drink. That night, when we were sure the danger had passed, we returned home. My brother Arie was less fortunate. After he was arrested in the early morning of May 16, he was taken to the assembly point at the Grote Kerk in Sliedrecht. He stood there all day with many other young guys from Sliedrecht. My mother went there later that day with a whole loaf of bread. How she got there is still a mystery to me because everything was rationed. Actually, it was not allowed to bring food to the boys. The NSB members saw to it that this did not happen, but somehow my mother succeeded. In the evening the arrested young men were taken in raid vans to what would later turn out to be Camp Amersfoort. After some time, a letter arrived from Arie from Amersfoort. Whether we wanted to ensure that a suitcase with some necessities could be delivered to Amersfoort by 6 July 1944 at the latest. My mother and Aries fiancé then left together for Amersfoort to bring the suitcase personally. They spent the day and night there with residents of Amersfoort. From there they watched the progress of the men from the Camp to the station, but I'm not sure whether they caught a glimpse of Arie among all those men. We never saw Arie again. He died in a German camp in November 1944. My mother and I learned this news in a big roundabout way. My father was employed in Germany and we hadn't received any uncensored mail from him in two years. In Germany my father had heard that his son Arie had died in a German labor camp. My father wrote this to a friend of his, who was also forced to work in Germany. This friend in turn wrote the tragic news to his wife in Sliedrecht and this woman came to tell us. The reason for Arie's death was 'heart weakness', but it later turned out that he died of dysentery. Arie was cremated in Germany. His ashes were returned to the Netherlands via the Red Cross. To Driehuis-Westerveld in North Holland to be precise. At the time it was the only place in the Netherlands with a crematorium. In 1948 I drove there with my cousin Frans Dubbeldam to collect the urn with ashes. The urn was in our house for another five days before it was buried in Sliedrecht. Later I contacted the War Graves Foundation, because I thought that a monument should be built in Sliedrecht for the war victims. Fortunately, the field with war graves was created, my brother now also has his final resting place there. In retrospect, we sometimes thought back to the day on which Landwachter Westdijk, who was shot dead by the resistance, was buried: Saturday, May 13, 1944. There were many people who stood in the street watching the funeral procession. No one grieved that this land warden had ended so badly; he had few friends in Sliedrecht. His widow, who could hardly bear the mocking looks of the spectators, shouted angrily to the crowd: "Yes, now you are still laughing, but wait ... the consequences will come!" could not even remotely imagine what disaster was hanging over us'.
Mäletatakse siin Arie Kors Groeneveld 1919 – 1944 Kas siin asuv kivi on kahjustatud või puudub? Teavitage meid e-kirjaga
