Generaal J.W. Hackett – I was a  stranger.         

Onze Engelse onderduiker, generaal Hackett, arriveerde met zijn brigade in Nederland

op de tweede dag van de slag om Arnhem, 18 september 1944, als parachutist (we zouden later op zijn  valse persoonsbewijs hem de naam Jan  van Dalen geven, als verwijzing naar zijn manier van entree). In een van de daarop volgende gevechten werd hij zwaar gewond, opgenomen in het Elisabeth gasthuis in Arnhem, vandaar op 9 oktober door het Nederlandse verzet ontvoerd en naar Ede gebracht waar hij een schuilplaats vond bij de dames de Nooij: mijn drie tantes Mien, Cor en Anna. Ruim een week daarvoor, op 1 oktober, hadden de Duitsers het bevel gegeven tot evacuatie van de Veluwezoom, waaronder de bewoners van ons dorp Renkum. Zodoende was ons gezin (mijn  moeder, zus Maria en ik; mijn  broer Wim zat gevangen in Duitsland) al eerder dan de generaal terechtgekomen bij de drie tantes.

       Later zou generaal Hackett een boek schrijven over zijn  belevenissen in bezet Nederland (I was a Stranger; 1977) waarover hieronder meer. In kleur beperk ik me wat het verblijf en de ontsnapping van Hackett betreft tot het vermelden van een paar dingen die niet in zijn boek staan (kleur, p. 111-112, 115-116). Eén episode voeg ik hier daar nog aan toe. Die vond plaats tijdens Hackett’s tocht uit bezet Nederland naar de vrijheid, een reis die in drie etappes gemaakt werd: eerst van Ede naar Maarn, toen naar Groot Ammers en vandaar naar Sliedrecht (vanwaar de crossing per kano door de Biesbosch volgde.

Verantwoordelijk voor het organiseren van Hackett’s ontsnapping was een Brits geheim agent, Dick Kragt. We konden hem er slechts met moeite van overtuigen dat de reis gemaakt zou worden op klaarlichte dag, per fiets en ongewapend. Meisjes/vrouwen werden minder 

Onmiddellijk na de bevrijding kwam generaal Hackett bij de familie De Nooij-Snoek - wij woonden nog in Ede - op bezoek. Daarna verflauwde de relatie tussen hem en mij en dat lag aan mij. Hij stuurde een mooie kerstkaart, ik had niet het benul er een terug te sturen (kerstkaarten waren in Nederland toen nog niet in zwang). Hij gaf me een abonnement op een Engels tijdschrift maar ik had geen tijd om het te lezen en bedankte hem er ook niet voor. Achteraf bezien was mijn houding bot en dat terwijl ik hem graag mocht. Maar we waren druk: onze zaak moest opnieuw gestart worden en ons huis herbouwd. Later ging ik theologie studeren, verloofde me en trouwde. We waren druk bezig met heden en toekomst en hadden geen tijd voor het verleden. Onlangs klaagde een generatiegenoot dat zijn kleindochter  - een meisje van 20 – geen tijd en interesse toont voor de onlangs te boek gestelde verhalen van haar grootvader. Ik overwoog: dat meisje is natuurlijk veel te druk met het heden en haar toekomst, evenals wij toen.

General J.W. Hackett

General Hackett, who became our guest in hiding, arrived in Holland with his brigade on the second day of the Battle of Arnhem on the 18^th of September 1944 as a parachutist. Later we were to give him the name of Jan van Dalen on his fake ID-card, with reference to his way of entering the country.( dalen means  to descend) In one of the fights he was badly hurt and taken to the Elisabeth hospital in Arnhem. From there he was abducted by the Dutch resistance on the 9^th of October and taken to Ede, where he found a hiding place with the de Nooij ladies, my three aunts Mien, Cor and Anna.  A week earlier, the Germans had ordered the evacution of the Veluwezoom, among which were the inhabitants of the village of Renkum. That is why our family (my mother, my sister Maria and I) had found shelter with the three aunts before the general had. My brother Wim was a prisoner in Germany.

Later general Hackett would write a book about his adventures in the occupied  Netherlands (I was a Stranger; 1977). In Soms moet een mens kleur bekennen  I restricted myself to mentioning a few things about his stay

and escape that were not in his book. (Kleur, p. 11-112, 115-116). I will add one episode here. This took place during Hackett’s trip from occupied Holland into freedom, a trip by bike, that was made in three stages: first from

Ede to Maarn, from there to Groot Ammers and finally to Sliedrecht, followed by the crossing by canoe through

the Biesbos. Immediately after my return to Ede I wrote the details of the trip in my diary. The British secret

agent Dick Kragt was responsible for organising Hackett’s escape. It was only with great difficulty that we could convince Kragt that the trip had to take place in broad daylight, by bike and unarmed. Girls and women were less often stopped at checkpoints than men. That’s why a woman courier would ride ahead of us with all the incriminating material (uniform, British identity papers, and a letter from my aunts to Queen Wilhelmina).

Some time ago a contemporary of mine complained about the fact that his granddaughter – a twenty year old girl – had no time and wasn’t interested in the stories her grandfather had recently written down in a book. I thought: well, of course she too, is much too busy with the present and her future.

Years passed and contact between the general and myself was rare, also because my wife and I lived in Israel for a long time and after that in Geneva. That changed in 1976. We were back in Holland and lived in Oostvoorne where I was a vicar. The telephone rang. General Hackett was on the line. He told me that, a long time ago,

he had written down his adventures in occupied Holland and had now found a publisher for an abridged version. He wanted to send me the manuscript and asked me to read and correct it, where necessary. The story was touching and captivated me. The general had succeeded in expressing his feelings of those days very well. Corry read it as well and was impressed.

Our youngest daughter Mirjam had a hamster which was allowed to rummage about freely in the living-room – under her supervision. Suddenly that hamster found a hole in the skirting board, crept in it and disappeared.

Here we had a problem. Corry said to me: “You were that plucky fellow that managed to get a real British general to the other side, weren’t you? Well, then you must certainly be able to bring out that little hamster?” I did try but didn’t succeed. Mirjam knew what to do; first she flashed a torch in the hole and tapped on the food tin. Soon the hamster crept out of the hole and was saved.

Beforehand they wanted to make the trip from Ede to Sliedrecht again with me, not by bike this time but by car with a reporting team that would cover the trip. Then I no longer avoided publicity. My answer was: “Yes, but on the condition that you give me one minute to tell about the things that keep me busy now: the fate of the Palestinians.” They reluctantly agreed, halfway they tried to back out (“instead of giving you the one minute on tv we will give you an hour on the radio”) but I was unrelenting and they probably suspected that the general would let his cooperation depend on mine.

After a long day we arrived in Sliedrecht at nightfall. The reporter said: “Well, time for your minute now.”  I have the coverage on tape. I said:

“Sometimes you have done things because you would have been ashamed of yourself if you hadn’t done them. It would have affected your selfrespect. We have experienced it as a challenge and actually, every day is still a challenge for me: to be a Christian, to be just a man, who sometimes fails.

 For me this has later got a very personal realization. I became a vicar. I was posted in Israel. I had a lot to do with Jews. Later I found out there were Palestinians as well. I stood up for the Palestinians a few times – in loyalty to Israel – in a way that not everybody could appreciate. But all along I felt that, loyal to God and fellow men, you have to go your own way and – with failures now and then – be loyal to your own conscience.”

 EO-tv broadcasted it correctly.

This combination of the past with what I am doing now, suits me. Recently a book by Jan Crum

was published; Wat bewoog u? Gesprekken met mannen en vrouwen uit het verzet (Soesterberg, 2007). Wim and I are among the 25 people that were interviewed. Crum knew about Hackett and asked me about the time with him. My answers were without restraint. At the end he asked: “what message can you give to young people at  the annual commemoration of the liberation?”  Among other things I said: “The front line is always different. The challenge is to see where it lies. There is no straight line. I blame myself for not having seen the injustice that was done to the Palestinians. I did live in Israel, so I could have seen it…….”

General Hackett died on September 9^th 1997 at the age of 87. The funeral took place in the family circle.

On November the 24^th there was a commemorative service in St. Martin in the Fields, a church in London. Maria, Loek Caspers and I were invited together with some other Dutchmen: mayors and officers. We travelled on an Airforce plane, landed at a military airport and were taken by bus to Croydon, where we were officially welcomed by the mayor, a nice lady in her fifties, with a chain of office. After her speech sandwiches were served. She came up to me and said: “You and the general had a thrilling time”.

I had heard such remarks earlier that day so a bit peevishly I answered: “I did indeed, but it was not the only thrilling period in my life”. Of course she wanted to know more then, so I told her that at the end of my career as a vicar,  I had been a pastor in a nursing home for demented elderly people for six years. She got tears in her eyes and said: “Soon my father has to go to a nursing home and  I find it very hard to come to terms with it”. I said: I will be glad to talk about that with you”. We took two chairs, sat down opposite each other and while the rest of people were  fluttering around us, I told her that one can communicate with a demented parent – be it in an other way than one used to; for even when the brain no longer functions well, there remain ways of nonverbal communication.

I told her that for me, that period had meant the most to me during my career as a pastor, in spite of all the misery I saw. I don’t remember the mayor’s name and probably we will never meet again. Nevertheless she nor I will ever forget that short encounter.