My Story 15

Ah, THE ARMY. One of the first things they did is give every one a powerful rifle. You know boys. They are all interested in guns, that is nature I guess. For the first weeks we had to keep the rifle with us where ever we went to get used to the feel. Well, actually we did not go very far, we had to stay at the base for two months. You can always tell a "recruit" because he has to button his uniform all the way to the top. After two months you have to keep the top button open and wear a green tie.

The rifles they gave us were Lee Enfield's, 303. With good eyesight you could read the date of manufacture stamped in the metal part, 1914. Doesn't that make you feel safe! This Dutch army is protecting your national freedom with weapons made before the first world war!! A lot of the equipment we used was old British surplus. Once in a while they brought out the Bren guns for practice, a light machine gun.

The sergeants got Sten guns.

When we stood guard duty, two hours up, four hours off, we were given five live "sharp" cartridges that fit the Lee Enfield. One of shot had to be placed in the chamber. Even though the safety was on, I thought that was too dangerous and I refused to do that. Standing guard was something else, especially at night. Every sound spooks you. Also, fatigue sets in and you are not fully alert. That fatigue is 100% psychological. When you hear, after two hours, the footsteps of relief coming your way, instantly, fatigue is gone. That is true, you feel again as fit as ever. Coming to the guard house for a coffee, and a rest, they supplied a few slanted wooden pallets for you to lie down on and have a nap. Amazingly, I usually slept rather well on that hard surface.

It is not wise, even in the army, to facilitate a young man with a deadly weapon when he is subject to depressions. You don't always know when a person is a danger unto himself. During my two years, two fellow soldiers shot themselves while on guard duty. That gets to you, especially when the army covers it up and calls it accidents, and gives your buddy a funeral with full military honours. We knew the truth. Both kids were depressed and had a hard time handling emotions during the long boring hours standing on guard.

In June 1954 I was discharged. We said farewell to the two sergeants of our platoon, sergeant Haase and sergeant Timmers. We gave them both a small gift and thanked them for taking care of us during, for many, the first experience away from home. Both tough professional military men suddenly became human. Sergeant Haase turned around wiping away a tear. Sergeant Timmers managed a little speech. He said it had never happened to him that a departing platoon honoured their sergeants with this kind of goodbye, and that our gesture gave his career a new meaning, that kind of stuff.