"Big gun carriers, filled to the brim with soldiers were temporarily parked close to us, waiting for orders and one of the young bullies dropped his bayonet at my Dad's feet and I watched with trepidation, that could be the start of a massacre depending on how my Dad reacted.
I knew all the stories from the first World War, I knew his courage but also of his common sense: looking at us and smiling, he picked up the damned thing as if it was hot and presenting it back to front like a non-aggression offering he gave it back to the soldier. Which was accepted with a short snappy "Danke". We heaved a relieved sigh and thought what a close shave that had been. Just, the same, all of us were breeding secret thoughts of how to get this well armed enemy, we had to use underhanded methods from now on.
There were far too many of them and all that material it was rather difficult to try and jump them as it had been done in the past with success. We had to bide our time. It is no good to be a dead soldier or single hero, this was not the day for martyrdom. The battle was over for us for a while. We had our horse steaks to deal with and did not wish to deplete the supplies of our helpful aunt. The hearty meal carried us further on our way towards Ostend which we were finally able to reach and which turned out to be in a shambles of immense proportions.
The last minute bombing had left its destructive path in our wake, craters and debris all over the place. Telephone poles and lights in all positions laying across the streets. Some people walking aimlessly around with an incomprehensible glazed look. On reaching the centre cross-roads called "Petit Paris" people told us that Hitler Youth had stood on the corners of with an enourmous swastika flag trying to engage the attention of the German planes who were still bombing with their troops already crossing the town.
Approaching the Chapel Street that was practically destroyed, people were still coming from the dyke after helping rescue the wounded out of the hotels, they had gruesome tales to tell. The Casino was destroyed also. The British ships lay in front, with the German artillery firing a couple of shots quickly ordered by the officers to stop and proceed immediately to France. We heard the same stories over and over again from the few witnesses, most of the population being in the shelters at the time.
The great storm had subsided and calmed down. It was a great time to take account of it all. After this we proceeded in safety crossing the bridge, as usual, intact, and continued to the old tram-station where we had started our trip to nearly Bourbourg and back on the road to Saint-Omaire. We looked back in utter disbelief at the backlash and eagerness to totally bomb Ostend on the mad orders given by their leaders, similar to the destruction of Rotterdam!
The first German motorized platoon was completely annihilated, plastered on both sides of the house walls on the curve on the entrance to Ostend, its own soldiers crucified by their own planes. Most of the evidence, such as the bodies and human remnants had been quickly taken away but the wreck of cars and the blood splattered all around was overwhelming.
I wondered how the communique would be worded to the parents, wives and children of the victims. Would the incident be described as one of the hazards of war, fallen in the line of duty to the Fatherland on foreign soil. I don't think anybody enjoyed that either on any side and therefore we go back To Each His Own. (translation of the sign on the camp entrance to Buchenwald, meaning, at that time, Everybody Get's What They Deserve!
Luckily, we were on our own finding our way throughout the useless debris, otherwise we could have been mistaken for looters. The big ramp with busts of opulent women set in bronze was saved and intact, it crossed the railway track and sluices from The Barquentine Station towards the wood docks and onwards to Brussels.
The busts were an enterprise started in the reign of Leopold II. The pious fathers of the Bishopry had to interfere with the project with the pretence that their flock needed protection from the nakedness. Under indignant protest "The ladies" displayed had to be removed. Maybe the Germans would have used them for their shells anyway as cannon fodder.
All this was a traversity of free thought and liberal ideas. Our country had been used to free thought and liberty for centuries through its arts, culture and progressive policies. It also had became a cornerstone that would help tumble empires.
Maria Hendrika was the dowager who preferred to live in Belgium and so took up residence. Franz Joseph, despite his many reforms was obliged to leave Belgium because of the revolt of "Boerenkrijg", another Boer War. Napolean Bonaparte another occupier was responsible for building a fort in the dunes which was strategically placed to protect the harbour and on the other side of the town. We had just entered old Fort Wellington from Middlekerke, only a frontage was left.
The Guilds had played the biggest part in defending our freedoms to get our "Charters" established - sometimes in aristocratic families. Trade had begun to flourish including that, with the New World. Our new governors Albrecht and Isabella would became the intermediaries and the pacifiers.
The Flemish fleet would never recover its formal glory but the cruel times of the terrible Alva and his Inquisitors were over and times of burning heretics, plundering and destroying were finished. The best of the fleet stayed in Holland and so did the East India Company, found in Ostend.
From our vantage point, it was a short time before we noticed the marine school which had been partly destroyed by a "Voltreffer!!!", as they called it, a direct hit. The body of one of my school friends was still in it, which we later came to know was the reason for him being missing. He had gone there to get himself a typewriter at the crucial moment the bombing took place. His one and only ambition in life was to be a reporter, his life cut short in one moment, while attempting to achieve his ambition!"
To be continued ...
I knew all the stories from the first World War, I knew his courage but also of his common sense: looking at us and smiling, he picked up the damned thing as if it was hot and presenting it back to front like a non-aggression offering he gave it back to the soldier. Which was accepted with a short snappy "Danke". We heaved a relieved sigh and thought what a close shave that had been. Just, the same, all of us were breeding secret thoughts of how to get this well armed enemy, we had to use underhanded methods from now on.
There were far too many of them and all that material it was rather difficult to try and jump them as it had been done in the past with success. We had to bide our time. It is no good to be a dead soldier or single hero, this was not the day for martyrdom. The battle was over for us for a while. We had our horse steaks to deal with and did not wish to deplete the supplies of our helpful aunt. The hearty meal carried us further on our way towards Ostend which we were finally able to reach and which turned out to be in a shambles of immense proportions.
The last minute bombing had left its destructive path in our wake, craters and debris all over the place. Telephone poles and lights in all positions laying across the streets. Some people walking aimlessly around with an incomprehensible glazed look. On reaching the centre cross-roads called "Petit Paris" people told us that Hitler Youth had stood on the corners of with an enourmous swastika flag trying to engage the attention of the German planes who were still bombing with their troops already crossing the town.
Approaching the Chapel Street that was practically destroyed, people were still coming from the dyke after helping rescue the wounded out of the hotels, they had gruesome tales to tell. The Casino was destroyed also. The British ships lay in front, with the German artillery firing a couple of shots quickly ordered by the officers to stop and proceed immediately to France. We heard the same stories over and over again from the few witnesses, most of the population being in the shelters at the time.
The great storm had subsided and calmed down. It was a great time to take account of it all. After this we proceeded in safety crossing the bridge, as usual, intact, and continued to the old tram-station where we had started our trip to nearly Bourbourg and back on the road to Saint-Omaire. We looked back in utter disbelief at the backlash and eagerness to totally bomb Ostend on the mad orders given by their leaders, similar to the destruction of Rotterdam!
The first German motorized platoon was completely annihilated, plastered on both sides of the house walls on the curve on the entrance to Ostend, its own soldiers crucified by their own planes. Most of the evidence, such as the bodies and human remnants had been quickly taken away but the wreck of cars and the blood splattered all around was overwhelming.
I wondered how the communique would be worded to the parents, wives and children of the victims. Would the incident be described as one of the hazards of war, fallen in the line of duty to the Fatherland on foreign soil. I don't think anybody enjoyed that either on any side and therefore we go back To Each His Own. (translation of the sign on the camp entrance to Buchenwald, meaning, at that time, Everybody Get's What They Deserve!
Luckily, we were on our own finding our way throughout the useless debris, otherwise we could have been mistaken for looters. The big ramp with busts of opulent women set in bronze was saved and intact, it crossed the railway track and sluices from The Barquentine Station towards the wood docks and onwards to Brussels.
The busts were an enterprise started in the reign of Leopold II. The pious fathers of the Bishopry had to interfere with the project with the pretence that their flock needed protection from the nakedness. Under indignant protest "The ladies" displayed had to be removed. Maybe the Germans would have used them for their shells anyway as cannon fodder.
All this was a traversity of free thought and liberal ideas. Our country had been used to free thought and liberty for centuries through its arts, culture and progressive policies. It also had became a cornerstone that would help tumble empires.
Maria Hendrika was the dowager who preferred to live in Belgium and so took up residence. Franz Joseph, despite his many reforms was obliged to leave Belgium because of the revolt of "Boerenkrijg", another Boer War. Napolean Bonaparte another occupier was responsible for building a fort in the dunes which was strategically placed to protect the harbour and on the other side of the town. We had just entered old Fort Wellington from Middlekerke, only a frontage was left.
The Guilds had played the biggest part in defending our freedoms to get our "Charters" established - sometimes in aristocratic families. Trade had begun to flourish including that, with the New World. Our new governors Albrecht and Isabella would became the intermediaries and the pacifiers.
The Flemish fleet would never recover its formal glory but the cruel times of the terrible Alva and his Inquisitors were over and times of burning heretics, plundering and destroying were finished. The best of the fleet stayed in Holland and so did the East India Company, found in Ostend.
From our vantage point, it was a short time before we noticed the marine school which had been partly destroyed by a "Voltreffer!!!", as they called it, a direct hit. The body of one of my school friends was still in it, which we later came to know was the reason for him being missing. He had gone there to get himself a typewriter at the crucial moment the bombing took place. His one and only ambition in life was to be a reporter, his life cut short in one moment, while attempting to achieve his ambition!"
To be continued ...
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