The Beginning

"...And, one other thing, I will not relate one instance in this story that I did not either see or know absolutely to have happened. This is not false propaganda and it is not fiction in any form. Names of my American friends are substituted for military reasons. Names of the Dutch people are names that I knew them by and in many cases may not be their real names. Remember, too, as we go along, these Dutch people are just the ones that I knew. Many others did more, and less, in the furtherment of the war effort, but these can stand as examples of the others for they are all classified and typed "the brave Dutch."

- John Low, Jr

Many others did more, and less, in the furtherment of the war effort, but these can stand as examples of the others for they are all classified and typed "the brave Dutch."

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SPEAKER_01 0:41

On April 29th, 1944, my grandfather was shot down over occupied Holland during World War II. He spent eleven months in hiding before he made it back to Allied territory. If not for the sacrifices of the Dutch people, none of my family would even exist. To quote my grandfather, some debts because of size can never be paid in full, and my indebtedness to the Dutch people is great. In Paris, France, on february twenty first, nineteen forty-five, after several days of debriefing, John Lau Jr., my grandfather, sat down to tell a story. It was his attempt to partially repay this enormous debt. The following is his story in his words. Episode one, the beginning. I don't know why I should try to add to these three words of Mr. Churchill, because no other three words could more appropriately be used to describe these people. Before I start my story, I must clear up one particular point. I want to make clear that this is not a story about me and my exploits. It is a story of the Dutch Underground. I will be compelled to tell this story in the first person, is that is the way I learned it, and it will revolve around my day-to-day experiences. However, it is not my intention to blow my own horn. My escape was made good entirely through the efforts of the Dutch Underground, the brave Dutch. And while we're clearing up points, let us eliminate one or two more. I have no intention of trying to stir you up with the tales of atrocities, and I'm not trying to breed hate for the Germans, as the world is full of that. If I tell of some cases where the Dutch were captured and what type of torture they underwent, it is only to emphasize that even this horrible retaliation by the Germans for the unfortunate members of the underground that were caught did not frighten the Dutch. Just made them more determined to rid their land of this trespasser. I too learned to hate this Hun with a sinful passion. But if you will appreciate that I was there and I saw these things that I shall tell you about, you may understand. Oh, and one other thing. I I will not relate one instance in this story that I did not either see or know absolutely to have happened. This is not false propaganda, and it is not fiction in any form. Names of my American friends are substituted for military reasons, and names of the Dutch people, and names that I knew them by, and in many cases may not be their real names. Remember, too, as we go along, these Dutch people are just the ones that I knew. Many others did more and less in the furtherment of the war effort. But these can stand as examples of the others, for they are all classified and typed. The brave Dutch. Now, let's get back to the beginning. It was early morning and uh on April 29th that I was awakened by the Charge of BTs. And I was told to get cracking. Take off a set for 0730, and first I had to dress, eat, attend a briefing, and then get out to the planes. I was the group bombardier, but on this particular day I was flying up in the nose turret as a gunner with a more specific job of doing pinpoint pilotage navigation. We were what is known in the 8th Air Force as a lead crew. The duty of the lead crew, or lead ship, is to find the target, bomb it, bomb it, and um lead the other ships back to the home base. Usually the nine or twelve ships that fly close formation just behind the lead ship, and they all drop the bombs when and where the lead ship does. When we got to the briefing and saw that we were going to Berlin, I must say I was a bit nervous. Berlin is what we call a long haul. Long way to fly, and the anti-aircraft guns that defend the city are not just there for the German kids to play with. We had a rather uneventful trip into the city as our intelligence officers had routed us where they knew there were but few flank guns. The Luftwaffe was up in strength that day, however, and while they did not attack our group on the way in, they did go after another group that was flying just ahead of us. She felt sorry for those boys. American bombers have the reputation of being able to fight their way in, drop the bombs, and fight their way out if necessary. But when you do that, you are sure to lose ships, and that means crews. Yes, we had fighters that were our escort, but at the time the Jerriys hit the group just ahead of us, our fighters were busy with another batch of Jerriys that were attacking a group just behind us. I saw two of the bombers go down, and it's not a very pleasant sight to see. One exploded in mid-air and the other went into a spin, and I don't think any of the crew got out. When we got over Berlin, excuse me, the German flank boys opened up with I think everything they had. I'm not terribly sure, but I I thought I saw them throw the kitchen sink up at us. We got our bombs away and on the target and right before we hit the first time. This first hit started a small electrical fire in the back part of the ship, but the gunners got that out okay. The next hit was up front and it knocked out the bombardier's oxygen supply. His job was done, so he was able to leave his station or possession and go and go up by the pilot where there was another oxygen outlet he he could use for his oxygen mask. The third time we were hit, our left-hand outside engine took the worst part of it and stopped almost at once. A gas line was also hit. However, the pilot, Lieutenant Bill Moore and commanding pilot, Major Suzzarulo, were not ready to call it quits by any means. We lost about a thousand feet right there at first and had to leave our formation, but the pilot stepped up the output of the other three engines and joined in the formation of another group of liberators. We would have made it home okay if we had not lost so much gas due to the cut gas line. Finally, we did give out a gas just before we reached the coast of coast of Highland. No one on board was wounded and everyone got out of the ship okay. As I was floating to Earth with my parachute open beautifully above me, I counted seven other chutes close by. There were eleven men in the plane, and I worried about the other four and wondered why I didn't see them. I guess the other four were behind in in some of the clouds. Just before the pilot gave the order to abandon ship, the first navigator told the crew over the interphone that um that we were over Highland and that it was one of the countries the Germans had occupied. He said that it was believed that most of the Dutch people were pro-allied and would probably help us if they could. We've been told by intelligence officers that if we had to leave our plane at a high altitude, that we should not open our parachutes until we'd fallen most of the way down, because if we did, the Germans would see us coming down and would send out a reception party. Two, if there were any German fighters about and they saw you, well, they had no scruples about machine gunning a man coming down in a chute. We were up rather high, and I tried delaying pulling my chute, my ripcord uh until I'd fallen most of the way down, but I did not succeed. I yielded to the temptation to pin my shooters. The only thought you have when you're falling through space like that is wondering if your shoot will open when the time comes. Took me about 15 minutes to come down. I remember one thing impressed me. Same sensation is felt by most that jump, I assume. As I was floating down, it was unbelievably quiet. It was ghostly and remorful. I felt empty as I looked below and I wondered what the land and people were like. I remembered from my school days reading about the wooden shoes, the windmills, and the tulips and the dikes. I looked to the west and could see the North Sea. And I prayed that the wind would not change directions, because if it did, I may be blown out into the water. It didn't change. When I finally did reach Terra firma, I had my first lucky break in a series of lucky breaks that would have helped help me get helped me to go free. I came down in a small forest of fir trees. Highland has very few trees and only a small amount of land that can be called forest. Yes. I was lucky to have landed in this forest, for it afforded me a place to hide because sure enough, I had been spotted by the Germans as I floated down, and they had their troops out in search. My parachutes spread out over the tops of these three trees, and I was just left hanging. And I I didn't get scratched up as I'd expected I would if I landed in trees. I unbuckled my harness and dropped to the ground. I was in Highland. And what was next? Scared? Yes, I was a bit. I was alone, which made it so bad. I looked up at my shoot in the trees and I just stood there for a minute, half dazed and half happy that I was safe on the ground. Did I say safe? What am I thinking about? I have to get away from here. Two facts being became very clear in my mind. One was that I I wouldn't be safe for long if I stayed uh around under that chute showing in the trees, and the other was I was certain and determined that I didn't want to be captured. I'd get back back to England somehow. Just didn't know. I'll worry about that later. Right now I just I just I just I wanted to find a better place to hide. I tried to get my shoot down out of the trees because I knew that uh that would be a good starting point for the Germans to begin sir their search, but I had no success. I started running then to get away from the hot spot and and to find some place to hide. I soon gave up out gave out a breath, and instead of running, I settled down to a fast walk as in as straight a direction as possible. I stayed in the thick part of the woods and off the paths. After I'd made what I thought to be about four miles, I came upon a deep hole in the ground in a heavily wooded area. I crawled in to rest and to think. Here I took off my heavy flying boots and put on my GI shoes, which I had tied to my belt. Others had successfully evaded capture and made their way back to England before, and um and one of the things that they had passed on to us was that when flying, to always have your heavy GI shoes either on your feet or tied to your dress somewhere. Since I was wearing the dark green electric heated flying suit and boots, it was impossible for me to have my GI shoes on, but I'm thankful that as a precaution I had I had brought them along. All the boys that fly in the ETO, the European Theater of Operation, are given what is called an escape kit. Just before they go on a combat mission. It is a small package that contains different needs for those that try to escape after being shot down in enemy territory. After putting on my shoes, I opened up this kit and took careful inventory of its contents. There was a map of silk of all of Europe, two small compasses that were illuminated so that they could be used at night, a small hacksaw blade, a foreign language card, needle and thread, three pieces of gum, um, a a package of matches, tablets that would purify water, tablets that would um keep you awake if you ever had to f had to stay alert for several days. I think there was a a chocolate bar and several dextrose tablet tablets that would carry you through for several days without food. Oh, and there was also about sixty dollars in French money. But I guess to me the most important of these, unquestionably, was the compass and the maps. These ranked most highest with me. I sat tight and just kept my eyes and ears open for about three hours. It began to get dusk and I I I had not seen or heard anyone, so I decided to make my way farther and try to find some better place to sleep for the night. At first at first I stuck to the heavy part of the woods, and then finally I ventured out on a small path. I'd only been walking down this path a short distance when I heard a motor car. I knew only Germans would have a car out on the path like this, so I dove headfirst into a cluster of bushes just just just by the path. Uh, and not any too soon either, for it turned out to be three Germans in an amphibious auto about the si uh that's about the same size as our jeep. One of them was standing in the back with a machine gun. And he was looking right and left into the woods. But as they passed me, he didn't look right. Or I probably would not have been left. I guess I was uh I guess I was well concealed in this bush and my clothes were green, as as were my surroundings. But I sure felt as though I stood out like a spotlight in the cellar. Anyway, they went their way and didn't see me. So I left this path business and I stuck to the woods from then on. In a small clearing I saw what looked to be um and what turned out to be a schoolhouse. Wondering still where I was, I decided to have a look about um about the school building and see if the it if it had a name of a town or a village on it. Slipping around to one side that was closest to the trees, I went over for a closer look. No one was about, and uh neither was there any sort of name on the school. Looking through the window, I saw a large map uh hang of Holland hanging on the wall around the edge of the blackboard were painted tulips and small windmills. And this for some reason assured me that I was for certain in Holland and us but I still didn't know exactly what part. Retreating back into the woods, I began to think I began to think it didn't matter too much what part of Holland I was in. I had to go south. I would try to make my way through Holland, Belgium, France, and then into Spain. Spain being a neutral territory, would be compelled to return me to England. I'd heard of others making it out the uh making their way like that. It was dark now and I felt much safer. I passed several farmhouses and finally picked one that looked rather run down and had a haystack just behind it close to the woods. Haystacks in Holland are are not the same as we have in the States. Uh usually they have a thatched roof or a tin roof and it is supported by four poles, one at each corner. This roof can be uh raised or lowered according to how high the hay is stacked under it. So I crawled up in this haystack. With difficulty is it was about 20 feet high, and then I more or less covered myself with the hay. It had begun to rain and I was a little damp and cold, but the hay was warm and I was out of the wind. I had been in the haystack about an hour when the farmer's son, who looked to be about twenty years old, came to get hay for the cows. He he he would not have seen me for I was buried deep in the hay, but I knew I knew I was gonna have to have help in the way of food and civilian clothing if my journey was to be a success. So I called to him rather softly. American.

unknown 19:30

American.

SPEAKER_01 19:36

At first his eyes were as large as saucer's and then I remember seeing a quick change in his expression to that of fear. My first thought was that he was afraid of me, so I I showed him my hands and let him see I had no weapons. But his expression did not change. He looked like a like a small child that didn't know whether or not he should take a second piece of cake. You see, the Dutch word for American American is almost the same as the English. It is American with an accent on the can. There's no question but that he knew at once I was an American flyer. He was rather stunned at first. Just think how you'd feel if you opened your garage door in some night and found that you had acquired a German or a Jap. He looked about in all directions very carefully and he crawled over to where I lay in the hay. I knew beyond a shadow of doubt that he he would befriend me. And I gave a big sigh of relief and a big smile to my new friend. He still had signs of fear about him, but uh when I held out my hand, he took it and he shook it vigorously, and his fears were gone. However, his fears were not of me. And they soon returned. I saw it once that he was uh afraid of the Germans. He was afraid that I would be found on his farm, and while he knew at the time what the Germans would do to him and his family, I yet had this to learn. We set about to make conversation with our hands and the language card I had. Repeatedly we would we would throw in a big handshake just for the hell of it. It seemed to make us both feel bad about the whole situation. This language card had a had a few phrases in English, and to the right of each one was the same thing in Dutch. It was through this that he finally put the idea over to me that if I were found on his farm, he and all his family would be killed. I was a little discouraged because I It seemed to me perfectly safe that I that I hide here in the haystack until morning. But without hesitation, I not only volunteered to leave, but I started down out of the haystack to be on my way. As soon as my friend saw, saw what I was doing, he had a fit. He was very insistent that I stay. And I must say that I didn't offer much resistance for it was raining and I was very tired. Once he saw that I realized the danger to him and to his family, his fears left and he relaxed. This fear did not return. Instead, he was very confident and he left me and set about his work in the yard with perfect poise and with any, if anything, an air of indifference about the whole thing. That was my first contact with the Dutch, the Dutch Underground Army. But I'll I'll leave that last remark about his being part of the Dutch Underground Army more or less unexplained for the present. I I am sorry I didn't give a more uh complete description of my young friend earlier. I'll do that now. As I say, he was about 20. His complexion was fair, and he had fine blonde hair. He must have weighed just about 135 pounds, and overall he did not look too intelligent. He's just a simple, hardworking farmer's son who, uh, with his father was trying to scratch a living out of a farm about four acres in size and pretty well run down generally. But don't get me wrong. Don't get me wrong. He had the one thing that is important in life, and it stood out all over him. Character. As I said before, I knew from the first that he was a friend. And no one but those that have been in a similar sim a similar situation as I was in can possibly appreciate a friend like this. He more or less gave me hope and courage. And once again, I strongly set my mind to the fact that I didn't want to be captured. After fiddling about in the yard for about 10 minutes, he returned to the house by way of the big double doors in the rear. As he opened these doors, I got a quick look inside and I saw two large cows looking out. What I'd read in my school books about the barn and the house being made into one was holding good. I I've also neglected to say that my young friend, he was wearing wooden shoes. That was important to me at the time for some reason I've for which I've never figured out. He stayed in the house for about half an hour and then I um had the double doors rattling. As he came out, his mother and father came quickly to the doors and and by light of the lantern, they waved a short cheery hello, and then they went back inside. He stood about in the yard a few minutes, just making certain that no one was around, and then uh he came up in the haystack. When he was settled, he opened up his coat and brought out a bottle of hot milk and a small package of bread. The milk I truly went for is I was very thirsty and it warned me all over. But the bread, now that was a different story. I was not very hungry in the first place, and here's what the bread was. Two pieces of what they call rye bread and or black bread with butter and sugar in the between, and two pieces of white bread, which we would call whole wheat bread, only theirs is much coarser. Between the slices of white bread uh was butter and raw bacon. At first I thought I would just scrape the butter and sugar off the black bread and put it on the white bread and throw the bacon and the black bread away. But my young friend was standing standing by for the council when I was through eating, and I just I didn't I did not think that this would please him. I ate it all down to the last crumb, but I can't say I enjoyed it. You ever eat a piece of cold raw bacon? However, I knew that I was gonna have to be kicking about Uhova sometime, and I was not gonna have a menu handed to me with a selection of mom's home cooking on it. So I made up my mind while I was while I sat there chewing that raw bacon. That the people over here ate it, I could too. And I would try to even learn to like this sort of thing if such a thing were possible. When I'd finished my bread and milk, my young friend took the milk bottle and then shaking my hand in his Dutch tongue, said what I think was good night, sleep well. As he started to own out of the haystack, he handed me a hard-boiled egg, smiled, and then he he retreated back to those big double bar doors. Since I was rather full up to the neck on bread, I thought I would save the egg for some other time as emergencies do come up. As I dug down deep into the warm hay uh and I made myself as comfortable as possible, a feeling of loneliness began to come over me. It seemed that this day had been a year. A lot had happened since early this morning when the charger quarters woke me to fly. I began to think about the boys on my crew and wondered if they had uh been as lucky as I. If they had escaped capture. Major Salzarulo, the command pilot, uh, was a very close friend of mine. I'd never flown with any of the other crew members, but you seem very close to each other, each and every one of the crew after an experience such as we had this day. I turned next to a short sentence prayer. Dear God, watch over those of us that are lonely and in trouble tonight. Keep us and in thy wisdom take us back to our loved ones. My next thoughts were of these loved ones. I hadn't had much time to think of home to up to now. Hadn't had any time to think of home till now. I hadn't thought about the telegram that my wife was to receive in the next few days from Washington saying we regret to inform you that your husband, Lieutenant John Lau Jr., has been reported missing in action from a combat mission of the ETO. These things stood out clearly now on the cold, black, rainy night. The Brave Dutch was written by John Legender and produced by the current LLC. Special thanks to Jackie, Lies, Lucy, Tinica, and Mr.

SPEAKER_00 29:24

Voltaire.