Chapter 16 – Sixty Years On

"You've hung up your great coat and you've laid down your gun…
You know the war you fought in wasn't too much fun…"

The knocks gently thudded on the door and Double D held out for as long as he could, the fresh smell of lumber and paint wafting around him. The clanking sound of the metal screen door sent him into the most panicked state he could find himself in; there was dead silence for several seconds.

Eventually he heard the sounds of muffled voices and a few girly giggles coming from the inside. He was frozen stiff in his position, taking in his deep breaths and counting slowly in his head until someone finally decided to open the door and end this nightmare once and for all. He couldn't help but think back on all the horrible experiences he had at this specific trailer, all the torment, all the pain, all the suffering. This placed used to be cursed to him, and the people inside were nothing more than common demons locked away in a sheet-aluminum tower. The sun hid behind some puffy midday clouds and cast the entirety of the trailer park in a pale shade of grey. Every second stretched into an hour as he heard the soft sound of footsteps trotting along the floor beyond the door. His eyes closed tight as the wooden front-door opened…

"Double D…so you got the note, huh?" a soft voice squeaked out. Double D pinched his eyes open and saw that it was none other than Marie standing before him, her head positioned in the crack of the door.

"Oh yes…" Double D stuttered out, cocking his head down, "very interesting design, really; nothing quite like a paper…uh…airplane to convey some information…"

"Yeah…" she said quietly. "I didn't really know how else to get it up there. I didn't know that nobody would be home…"

The two stood for a few seconds in awkward silence, muffled voices still whispering and giggling in the background. The looming awkwardness made them both uncomfortable.

"So do you wanna…you know, come in?" Marie asked, cracking out a small grin towards the ground.

"Oh yes, that would be very nice…thank you…" Double D replied, tilting his head back up and returning a very nervous grin. His mind was riddled with flashbacks, and not the good kind either. At least there's witnesses, he thought to himself.

As they walked through the threshold, Double D kept wondering to himself what the Kankers' mother was truly like. He had this idea in his head, crafted from Eddy's conspiracy theories, that the Kankers' mother was built like a truck driver: six feet tall, beer belly, hairy arms, and flannel shirts. Eddy had always talked a lot of crap about their mother being a prostitute on the side, racking up a lot of business around town. While Double D didn't want to believe him, all the warning signs of neglectful parenting had been there since they first met the Kankers four years ago. He couldn't really imagine that a sweet, caring woman could raise up such rebellious, frightful young girls, nor keep them in a dingy, disgusting trailer park. He expected a monster that would chew him up and spit him out with her chewing tobacco.

They both crossed over into the trailer and Double D couldn't help but keep his eyes shut. The warm smell of scented candles and Lysol did hit him quite strongly and left him more at ease. He could hear the murmur of voices, then he felt the wooden door shut behind him. He was trapped now, and there was no escaping the den full of voracious lions.

"Double D, this is my mom, Barbara Kanker…" the voice of Marie called out.

He hesitantly cracked his eyes open, and ecce mulier. The woman that stood before him met none of the descriptions of Eddy's ramblings…she was a soft, motherly sort of woman with weathered features. Her figure wasn't bulky at all; she was somewhat tall, but nothing close to six feet; her chestnut hair, marred with a few grey streaks, fell down her shoulders in brittle waves. She looked like any other mom, and her warm smile gave Double D a definite sense of ease; either this was the eye of the storm, or there really wasn't any storm at all.

"Hello Double D, it's nice to finally meet you…" she said as she held out her hand, hesitating slightly on the moniker Double D.

"It's very nice to meet you as well, Mrs. Kanker…" he responded, gripping her hand in his. It felt soft yet rough; that hand held a lot of secrets that he knew she carried with her.

"Oh you don't have to be so formal with me…" she said, releasing his hand and smiling… "Just call me Barbara or Babs, everyone else does…"

"Ooh, I see, I'll keep that in mind…" he replied, shaking a bit still.

"I must say though, Double D is a bit of a strange name…all I can think of when I hear it is my bra size ahahaha…" she bust out laughing, with the rest of the family joining in with a hefty chuckle. Double D grinned a little but was shocked to find her so casual with him so quickly. It had to be a good thing, but he wasn't quite sure.

"Well, it comes from the fact that my name, Eddward, is spelled with two D's," he said. "My mother told me that when they were writing out the birth certificate, they added the extra D completely by accident at the hospital. They were willing to fix it, but she decided to keep it. I suppose she thought it was…uh…unique."

"And unique it is…" she replied with a soft grin, "Well, can I get you anything to drink there, Double D…? It's starting to get a little hot out there by the looks of things…" she motioned over to the window and peeped at the little alcohol thermometer that hung there. "We've got soda, juice, milk, water…"

"Some ice water would be nice…" he responded, his tone taking a slight downturn.

"Coming right up!" Barbara replied, heading off into the kitchen to grab his water. Lee and May giggled a little under their hands, watching their sister nervously motion to the rest of the family.

"Well Double D, you already know Lee and May…" Marie said with a reluctant face, thumbing over to her two cackling sisters.

"Yes…hello…" Double D said, wiggling his fingers in a little wave."

"Hiya there Double D, nice place we got here, huh…?" Lee said, one hand on her left hip, with the right hand panning across the living room.

"It certainly is different…" he replied, looking around at how clean everything was; maybe this wouldn't be too bad after all.

Marie walked him over to the edge of the living room, where her grandfather had been standing. He was a tall, towering figure of a man; well-aged but not crippled by his advanced years. His wrinkles were impressive but didn't give him a bull-dog appearance; his glasses were perched on his beak-like nose and his hair still looked soft and manageable, even though it sported a definitive shade of grey. He was wearing a polo shirt with alternating blue and yellow horizontal stripes, which was tucked into his pleated khaki trousers (typical grandpa attire, Double D thought).

"Double D, this is my grandpa. Like I told you before, we call him Opa…" Marie said.

"It's quite an honor to meet you, sir. I've heard quite a lot about you from Marie…" Double D said, extending his hand out to the old man.

"Very nice to meet you as well, young man!" Opa said with a happy voice, slapping his hand into Double D's and heartily shaking it. "Please have a seat, enjoy that nice cool air conditioner, get some of that sweat off your forehead hahaha" he laughed, motioned towards the couch behind him.

"Oh yes, thank you, that cool air is rather comforting…" Double D said, gently sitting down onto the leather sofa that he remembered so many years ago. Marie sat next to him, with Lee and May still perched on the floor near the TV.

"And here's your nice cold water…" Barbara said, handing the tall plastic cup over to Double D. It felt slippery with the condensation beaded up around it, and he took a nice sip before setting it down on a cork coaster on the coffee table.

"Ah yes, thank you very much…" he said, bowing his head to the mother Kanker.

"No problem at all sweetie…" she said, walking over to her father. "Here dad, I brought you another cup of coffee…"

"Thank you dear, that's very kind of you…" the old man said, taking the mug in his hand and sitting back down in his armchair.

"You know young man, you said something about a mistake in your name a few moments ago…" he said, taking a small sip of coffee before bringing the mug back down. "I myself went through a very similar experience with my name!"

"Is that so…?" Double D asked, "What is your experience?"

"Well, as you might have been told, I immigrated to this country many decades ago, from the Netherlands. My last name was originally Kamper, not Kanker. When I came in through the immigration processing, I didn't speak hardly any English at all. So, the translator asked for my name and they mistook it for Kanker. I kept trying to tell the man that it was Kamper, but he just ignored me and stamped the card with Kanker on it. Ever since then, that's been my last name. Quite awkward also, because Kanker is quite a dirty word back home in the Netherlands. Whenever I would go back, I would always use my old last name in mixed company. But that's the story behind this family's name…" he said, smiling.

"Fascinating, seems we have something in common then…" Double D replied, smiling. "Marie had told me you originally came from the Netherlands. I'm quite the fan of history, so I would love to hear your story sometime…"

"I've got no problem sharing it with you!" he said, smiling and taking another drag from his coffee mug. "It's a long one, but if you want to hear it, I'm willing to tell it…"

"Yes please!" Double D said, sipping from his water.

"Oh brother…" Lee mumbled, not wanting to hear this tale for the millionth time.

"I don't know dad, maybe you shouldn't bore poor old Double D hear with you story; plus I think it's probably a little too graphic anyway, especially with the way you tell it…" Barbara said, turning to him.

"Nonsense…" he said, waving his hand. "The boy wants to hear it, and I haven't had someone new to tell it in a long time."

"You sure you want to listen to this, Double D? All you have to do is say no, he'll eventually get the idea…" Barbara said, reaching around Marie to touch his knee. Double D winced slightly at the contact but turned toward the old man.

"I'm ready…" he responded.

"Okay well here it goes…" Opa said, taking a long sip of coffee and clearing his throat. "I was born as Klaas Kamper in the year nineteen twenty-three. My father's name was Luuk and my mother's name was Eva. I had two older brothers, Lars and Max. I grew up on a farm in Krimpenerwaard, close to the city of Rotterdam. It wasn't always the easiest life, but we made it by just fine. My father was a proud farmer, and we grew mostly cabbage and potatoes on our farm. It wasn't the biggest farm by far, but it did the job I suppose. My father himself was half-German, and so me and my brothers all grew up knowing how to speak both German and Dutch. We attended a small school in the nearby village, and we usually had to walk there and walk back every day along those old dirt paths. I didn't like school very much; I'd rather have been in the fields or off doing fun things over in the city.

Well, I was a child when Hitler took over Germany, but we didn't think much of it. My father quite liked him and considered moving us to Germany at one point. But as a child, I didn't worry about such things; politics and warfare, that was all for the adults to bicker over. But when in 1940, when I was seventeen years old, that's when the invasion happened…"

Opa took a gentle sip of his coffee, pursing his lips to allow the warm liquid to flow over them.

"I remember it like it was yesterday; that day is impossible to forget. I woke up that morning to the sound of my father yelling. I came running down the stairs and saw him standing at the front door. He called my mother over and said 'They've arrived! They've arrived!' I tried peaking over his shoulders to see what he was talking about, and I finally saw it: collapsed parachutes on the ground. 'Evidently they came through early this morning,' my father said, 'I'm surprised the sirens didn't wake you up, Klaas.' I'd heard no sirens, but evidently my father did. Lars was in the Royal Dutch army, and Max was in the Dutch Marines. I walked out and saw plumes of smoke rising up from the nearby village, and I could hear gunfire. I ran upstairs, got dressed, and took off on my bike when my dad wasn't looking.

I took some small dirt paths all the way to Rotterdam, the nearby town. I was on a mission to find my brothers, and they had to be there. Once I got to the city, I could see dust and debris surrounding the bridges, so I kept biking into a side street going passed some buildings. I turned a corner, and seemingly out of nowhere, a loud air siren went off and I saw people running – running about everywhere. I was scared and frozen, standing in the middle of the cobble-stone alley. It was then I saw the first bomb drop on the road in front of me; strangely enough, I didn't really hear the damn thing go off, because the sound deafened me. But the force of the blast knocked me back off the bike, and some stone from the shops fell on me and scratched my head. I looked around and saw women running about, screaming and trampling on each other; my ears were ringing badly and I was motionless on the ground. More bombs started falling every which way, knocking out buildings and tearing great holes in the roads. When my ears finally stopped ringing, the first sound I could hear was that of the ambulance sirens and the women screaming. This old man, probably one of the shop owners, grabbed me by the arm and pulled me up. We ran and ducked underneath a little brick wall that ran along the road. I sat and watched as planes whizzed by overhead, and the black smoke billowed up in big piles everywhere. The old man tugged at my arm and shouted at me to look up; when I did, I saw what looked like puffed-up mushrooms dropping from the sky …"

"Those had to have been…" Double D interjected.

"Yes, my boy, those were the German paratroopers. The bombs paused while they started hitting the ground, and the blasting sound was replaced with the sound of machine gun fire. I was frozen there with the old man, who was praying quite loudly to St. Stephen and crying. I peaked above the little brick wall and saw a large group of German soldiers running towards us; I got behind the wall and closed my eyes, nearly crying there with the old man. He clutched onto my arm, when suddenly a blast of mortar fire hit the building next to us and blocked the road. Out came about a dozen Royal Dutch soldiers; the officer ran over to us and shouted at me: 'Is the old man hurt!?', and I told him 'I don't think so, just scared.' He knelt down and shook the old man a bit, then looked at me and said 'Take him and get out of here! Go now, now, now!' So I did just that; I grabbed hold of the old man's arm and began running straight in the opposite direction. I didn't look back, but all I could hear was shouting, in both Dutch and German, and gunfire…

We ran down a few narrow streets where the brick buildings now blocked off any view. The old man was out of breath, and as we stopped, he bent over with heavy breathing and crying. I asked him 'Are you okay?' and he said 'I don't think anyone is okay right now…I just want to live. I just want to live, boy!' We could hear bombs dropping in the distance and the bursts of machine gun fire; in that moment, it sounded like a woodpecker pounding away at a tree. I too was out of breath, so I simply collapsed to the cobblestones and sat up against a building. The old man took off running, and before I could get up to stop him, he disappeared into a cloud of dust and smoke. I never saw that old man again.

After I cleared my mind a bit, I got up and just started running as far as I could away from the noise. But I worried for both of my brothers; they could have been dead for all I knew. They were stationed just outside the city, but I didn't know where exactly. Eventually I ran out of the alleys and back onto the main road. The road here was blocked off by a large battalion of Dutch soldiers. They had mortars and anti-aircraft guns firing all around me and I saw several wounded people being treated by medics. A couple looked up at me as I skirted around them on the pavement, and I could see their pain. Blood had pooled up on the cobblestones and all I could smell was the gunpowder and the water from the canal next to me. Behind the blockade, I saw a face I recognized; it was Liam, an old friend of mine from school. I ducked behind the sandbags and razor-wire and called his name out, 'Liam! Liam! It's me, Klaas!' Eventually he turned around and trotted over to me, slinging his gun over his arm and clutching his helmet. 'Klaas, what the hell are you doing here?!' he asked. 'I'm just trying to find Lars and Max; do you know where they'd be?' I asked. 'Lars is with the seventh-regiment; they're positioned down at the traffic bridge. Here, come with me…' he said, and he took me over to a tight alley-way and handed me a cigarette. We both lit one and I was finally at ease for the first time all day. 'Let me tell you something…' he said, taking a long drag from his cigarette, '…most of these bombs are coming from our planes. They're trying to take out the bridges to cut the German foot-soldiers and tanks off. The Germans rolled in early this morning and started capturing all the bridges. We've spent the better part of the morning trying to either take them back or destroy them. Right now most of the damage you're seeing is from mortar fire and grenades, not bombs. Lars is with the regiment trying to take back the traffic bridge. I don't know where Max is, probably off in the northern part of the city somewhere.' 'Well, I need to go find Lars at least then. Someone has to get me out of the city…' I pleaded with him, but he just shook his head and said 'To be honest, you're probably safer in the city. German tanks and troops are all over the countryside, too. It's a full-scale invasion, like they did in Poland back in September. I'm afraid there is no escaping this, Klaas. Right now, the best bet would be to get to the south of the city, find a nice place to hide, and wait till we surrender to Hitler. I don't really think the Germans want a lot of dead Dutchmen, they only want the Jews afterall… so go on, get out of here and let us do what we have to do…' I looked at the ground and struggled with what to do. I looked back up at him and asked 'Do you have a spare uniform in my size? I might as well join this fight; if I can't leave, I won't run like a coward.' He was reluctant and tried to argue with me, but eventually he gave me a uniform and a rifle. I strapped the helmet on and together we sat at the barricade, waiting. Eventually a squad of Germans tried to flank us, and we retreated once they brought out the Panzerschrecks. We marched down the canal until we found another regiment, and Liam told me this was Lars's regiment trying to take the bridge. I met with Lars and together we took turns dodging machine gun fire and Luftwaffe raids. We lasted through the night, and we stayed in that position for the next two days. Early on the third morning, we heard the roar of the Panzer tanks, and at that point we looked up and were surrounded by Germans. Lars waved his white flag, and we surrendered to them. They took us as prisoner and marched us over the bridge. They loaded us up in the back of a truck and drove us out into the countryside. All we could see in the distance were German soldiers and smoke. I never say my parents, or Max, again after that. I later learned that my parents were killed toward the end of the war, during the liberation. Liam, Lars, and myself were taken to a German camp just past the Dutch border where they asked us if we spoke German. Lars and I did, Liam did not. The German officer had a stern face and sharp features. He said to Lars and me, 'Welcome new recruits, you are now officially members of the Furher's mighty Dutch arm of the Waffen-SS.' Liam was directed elsewhere, and we never saw him after that day. Lars and I were given German uniforms and placed in a fighting division. We fought with the Germans all over the eastern front, in places like the Balkans and Greece.

I didn't much like fighting in the German military, but it beat being a prisoner. But there were several times where I nearly died, and I began to hate it. I hated having to speak in German, I hated shooting innocent people, and I hated not being home. The winters were brutal; there were some times when I felt my feet were literally frozen in my boots. We passed the time by smoking and playing poker with naked-lady playing cards; we would sing German songs with the other troops and tell jokes about lost loves and promises of coming back in glory and honor. I missed my girlfriend, who I'd probably never see again; I missed my parents and the farm; I missed everything about life like it was. It was so cold in the winters, and we hardly had any food. I hated fighting against the Red Army. We would march through these small towns in places like the Ukraine, and our head officer would walk through the villages banging on a metal rubbish can and calling out 'Bring me your Jews! Bring me your Jews! I know you're out there Jews!' He was a real fanatic; Nazi party all the way. He'd have us go through each village like this, rounding up Jews and arresting them. He'd inspect them; the old and the sick, he would have shot and cremated right there on the spot. The rest he'd ship off on trains to camps in Poland or Germany. I knew a few Jewish people back home, and I just hoped they were okay. I'm not proud of what we did, and I still have nightmares to this day of him banging that can and the dead bodies falling to the ground. Those are things that are stuck with me, unfortunately. One thing I vividly remember is seeing their faces behind the bars on the train cars; they used cattle cars for the Jews, with big stars of David painted on the side. I remember seeing the horrified look they had. Most of my fellow troops hated Jews with a passion, even some of the Dutch ones. Even my brother Lars began to be filled with hate for them. It was infectious…"

The room got very quiet, with Double D hanging on to every word. He was witnessing history right in front of him. Lee and May had fallen asleep by the TV, and Barbara was reading her book (it's not as if she didn't grow up hearing this same story a million times.) Surprisingly, Marie was listening pretty intensely. She worshiped the very ground her grandfather walked on. Even though she had heard this story before, she was fascinated by it now. He grabbed a sip of coffee before going on.

"One day, it must have been in early 1945, we were being forced back by the Soviets. We had been pushed back to Poland, and our battalion was hiding in a forest, while some tanks were in the field next to us. One blistering cold morning we woke up and saw a large column of people advancing over the hill above us. We grabbed our rifles, fearing this was some kind of uprising. But our officer said: 'Steady men…'. He looked through his binoculars and held out his hand, 'These are just Jews, being marched from their camp…'. As they drew closer, we could see the German soldiers flaking both sides of the group with MP-40 guns, and the officer marching out front. The Jews looked pallid and scrawny, wearing tattered striped clothing with dirty yellow stars on them. They looked cold and hungry. 'Their camp must have been closed in by the Soviets…' Lars said to me, lighting a cigarette. 'I'd just shoot them all now, get it over with…'

Eventually I had enough; I didn't want to be steam-rolled by the Red Army when eventually they would come marching over that hill. We had no food and every day a few men would die because of the cold and snow. One night, without even telling Lars, I packed my things and quietly tried to run off. I made it about half a kilometer before I heard the loud snap of a pistol firing into the air. I fell to the ground, shaking. I turned my head, and in the vague darkness, saw the face of my commanding officer. 'Where are you off to then, soldier?' he asked me with a creepy grin. He marched me back to the camp, and the next morning he brought me to his little hut. 'I should have shot you dead last night…' he told me, 'but you're more valuable then that. I'm getting you off the frontlines, you'll be a burden to us when the Red Army comes. You know that group of Jews that passed through here last week? They were coming from Treblinka. The Soviets finally closed in on it; Auschwitz is soon to follow too. Any day now I'm waiting orders to fall back behind the German line; Americans and British are closing in out west. All these Jews are being sent to Germany and Austria. I radioed one of my friends over in Dachau. I've arranged for your transfer there as a guard. You've served me well, but you're dead weight apparently. You'll be driven out to the train station, and from there you'll be sent straight to Dachau. Your brother will carry on with me…'. So with that, the next morning, I got onboard the German train to Dachau. I rode with some Heer troops who were going along to Dachau as well. After a long trip, we got there, and I couldn't have imagined anything worse. Scrawny Jews were standing behind razor and barbed wire, looking straight at the ground. SS officers and guards were prodding old men and children with their rifles. As I was walking to the main building, I saw in old man shot in the head by an officer for praying.

They made me a guard there, and I was one of the few Waffen-SS there. Most were death-squad SS die-hards with the skull-and-crossbones on their collar. They were all Germans and I didn't along with them much. But I had one advantage over them; I had frontline experience, and they didn't…

I won't go into too much detail about what happened at Dachau, but it was terrible. I don't like talking about the things I saw… but needless to say I saw plenty of executions. The smell from the crematorium was awful. Toward April, the Americans were closing in. I got word that the Netherlands had been liberated, and I hoped my family was okay. The camp officials were trying their best to clear all evidence of war crimes at the camp; they started burning as many bodies as they could; they ordered us to go around and…and shoot the old and the sick. We had to pile the bodies up high, stuffing them in train cars or big pits dug into the ground by the other workers. It was…so horrible…I don't…I don't even like thinking about it. When we got word that the Americans were close, they started marching large groups of Jews out of the camp. They ordered us guards to stand our ground and fight. Eventually the Americans did come, and they blew through the walls and poured in. I ran and hid inside a bathroom, where one SS officer had already shot himself in the head. A group of American soldiers found me there, and I surrendered to them. I tried, in very bad English, to tell them I was Dutch and not a Nazi member. They arrested me and kept me in a holding cell there at the camp for a few weeks. My last week under arrest, they brought me a newspaper and slide it under the door; it said that Hitler had killed himself and the war was over. An American officer came and told me I was free to go, and so I got a train back to Rotterdam the next day. The city was a complete ruin; apparently the Germans had bombed it not long after I left, and the countryside was in ruins also. I learned that my parents had been killed a few weeks prior during the liberation, and my brother Max was also dead. I had no idea where Lars was; he was either killed by the Soviets or taken prisoner. My old house was a pile of debris, and I had no where else to go. I bought a ferry ride over to London, where a lot of Dutch refugees had been going. I lived there for a few months but didn't like it too much. London was ruined by the war too, and there weren't many jobs around. I heard there were good jobs in America, so I saved my money and bought a ticket for a boat. I went to Michigan and found work at the GM factory there. I got married, had one daughter, my lovely Barbara, and raised a little family. These girls are my life, and they helped me heal from all the scars of my past. I still have nightmares, and I'll never forget the things I went through or the troubles of my experiences in the war. But it's all behind me. You'll too learn in life that you can't let your past dictate your future, young man. I hope my story wasn't too boring or depressing; these girls have heard it so many times I'm sure they could recite it."

"No no, it was quite interesting to hear from a man who has experienced so much as you." Double D pleaded, folding his hands together on his lap.

Double D spent the rest of the afternoon at the Kanker house, enjoying his entire time there. They all played a long round of Monopoly and had some pizza for dinner. Double D never thought in his life that he could have so much fun with this family, a family that had scared him to death on many occasions. He found new respect for them that night; he actually started to see them as people. Lee and May were quite the funny characters, always bickering and poking fun at each other. Their mom was so fun to be around too, and certainly the war-chiseled grandpa didn't hurt either. Marie and he didn't really get any alone time, but Double D figured that might be a good thing. He still felt kinda awkward with her. When they were playing Monopoly, their hands briefly touched and they both flushed with red and quickly retracted their hands. It was a day unlike any other, and the walk home would be the most interesting part of all.