Dad's only story - the concentration camp

Revised August 03, 2014...

As we know from Mum's stories, one of his jobs was to pretend to be Mum’s “husband” during her delivery rounds; delivering the food stamps to the houses that hid the Jews and Allied pilots.  All Dad told me was that he was assigned to the Dutch Underground, blowing up train tracks, stealing guns and provisions for the Dutch Underground. I understand from my brother that Dad did a lot more... he was doing his “job” in the efforts of resisting the German occupation.

however, he did open up to me and told me one story on how he and his dad were caught; sent to a concentration camp and tortured by the Gestapo...

it goes....

“It was night time when the German Soldiers pounded down the door to my Dad’s house! Waving their machine guns and shouting for everyone to get out of the house. Hennie (my future wife) was sleeping upstairs at the time, grabbed her pillow, which actually was the food stamp bag, wrapped it around her waist to keep up the image that she was pregnant, and came downstairs with the others. Not knowing what was going on, still half asleep, we were pushed outside, lined up and questioned. They were looking for the Schut men! The women were told to get back into the house and stay there!

My Dad and I were taken away to the concentration camp in Apeldoorn, Camp Kazerne Willem III.

It was assumed that some other poor Dutch soul was caught and tortured to disclose the whereabouts of the Dutch underground resistance. The Germans had a way to make people talk. 

a picture of the concentration camp Dad was detained in.

The picture of dad's cell (picture donated by Fred Klijndijk)

Dad and I were placed in separate cells… cells with no beds or washrooms.


Each morning all the prisoners were marched outside, so they could hose down the cell area to keep them somewhat clean. They would march us in a circle, keeping your head down at all times! Look up and you were shot! Every day, someone was taken out of their cell for interrogation… some returned and others did not. We would never know who would be next… if you called out you were shot! All we could do is to fake a cough, or sneeze to let my Dad know I was still here and when I was returned. The stress on this was extreme, never knowing when you will be next.

A picture of the corridor in front of the cells (donated by Fred Klijndijk)

(Comment and photo from Fred Klijndijk)... at the end of the corridor, on the right hand side, there was a door leading to the area where the prisoners could breathe some fresh air. at least, if they were allowed! It was up to the SD whether they could do so. Sometimes once per day, sometimes once in three days! The toilet was a bucket in the corner of the cell. You were lucky when you were allowed to empty to bucket in the toilet at the end of the corridor, because you could walk 20 meters and 20 meters back! That bucket had to be emptied once or twice a day, because sometimes there were more than a dozen persons in one cell (2m x 3m).

I was taken to a room, where they would try convincing me to talk and divulge the locations of the homes / places that were hiding the Jews and Allied Soldiers. I knew ever well that if I divulged the locations, all the people living there would be shot on sight. They tried many ways to make me talk; but I will only tell you two ways, as the rest is not fit for words… driving nails under your nails and making you taller than you are. Both ways have lasting effects, at that time and for years to come. My nails showed the signs of this torture through-out my entire life, they were always deformed… a constant reminder of days past. In addition, my back was never the same and had constant problems with a “pinned” back.

Hennie and family came over each day to provide us food and drink. The Germans did not feed us, only food was from the outside.”

Picture from internet of the barracks

During the day, we were taken outside to work on the road reconstruction, a bit of “rest” from the stressful times in the concentration camp.

When the Allied soldier were approaching, the camp commander talked to my Dad and stated that he would let us escape, providing we put in a good word in for him, if he was caught. Needless to say, my Dad took him up his offer… the commander was executed.

"Out of prisoners who were with us, only four (including my father and me) came out alive. Bodies of 16 bodies of men were (by accident) discovered weeks later by workers in the woods about 5 km from Apeldoorn."

Almost 40 years later, while vacationing in Holland, my dad visited Camp Kazerne Willem III in Apeldoorn. He once again saw Cell #11, where is was kept prisoner. The building is still used to the present day, but as a training facility.

On August 01, 2014, I got an email from Fred Flijndijk, a reader of my blog... adding additional information on the KW III barracks and conditions of life there.

" Fred Klijndijk": In the sixties he was with the Marechaussee and got his training and education at the Koning Willem III-kazerne. About twelve years ago he started the website...www.marechausseenostalgie.nl ...especially for his former colleagues. He received so many pictures and other kind of information about the KW III barracks that he decided to write a book about the barracks.

he wrote...

"The barracks were opened in 1939 and one year later the Germans occupied the complex. I noticed that there was very little known about the barracks during WW II. So, I started digging into the history of five years of occupation and soon I found out that the KW III played a very important role during the war. I found out that the prison cells were a very notorious prison of the SD, were terrible things happened. I discovered so many things that I decided to put writing the book on hold and to concentrate fully on the SD prison.

The cells were built in 1939 and meant to lock up soldiers who did something wrong. There were small cells and some larger ones. The small cells were built for one person, but the SD managed to put up to 14 (!) persons in one cell. So, I calculated that hundreds of persons must have been locked up in those cells. I have made a list of names and so far I have 250 persons on the list and counting....

A few years ago the barracks had to be remodeled because of lack of space for the marechaussees. Since the cells had no function since 1995, they decided to break down all the cells and make classrooms in that area. Fortunately I have some friends working in the barracks and when they told me that, we started to protest right away. And with (partial) success. Three of the cells would be kept in the original state as a memory of WW II. After the remodeling, I decorated the area were the cells are with pictures of how it used to be as well as parts out of diary's written by people who were prisoner that time. A lot of my friends know that I'm interested in the history of the barracks and from time to time I receive new (new for me!) information about situations, pictures, but also parts of official reports in which the KW III barracks is mentioned."

Fred also found statement made by my grandfather in 1946 in the "National Archive"...

Opa's original statement...In dutch of course...

Verklaring van de heer W.R. Schut, gerechtsdeurwaarder te Apeldoorn, gedateerd 5 oktober 1946.

Ik werd in een cel opgeborgen. Hierin bevonden zich reeds vijf personen. Een ervan kende ik. Hij was genaamd: Scherpenzeel. Enkele van hen hadden er reeds enige weken doorgebracht. Het was er vies en benauwd. Een broeinest van ongedierte, groot 2 bij 3 meter. Nooit zal ik die dagen en nachten vergeten daar in de cel doorgebracht. Verlaten van de menschen en in handen van dat wapentuig (SD) dat tot alles in staat was. We waren bezield met die gedachte "Zouden we er ooit nog levend uitkomen." Dan kregen wij weer moed. Het was zoo vlak voor de bevrijding. Zou de verzetsbeweging ons niet verlossen? Tevergeefsch, niemand kwam ons verlossen. Ja toch? Als er ooit een tijd in mijn leven is geweest is dat mijn geloofd beproefd is, dan is het wel den laatsten nacht. Het was bekend dat er ergens in een der cellen een bijbeltje lag te slingeren. De laatste morgen dat wij gelucht werden deelde mijn zoon mij mede, dat dit bijbeltje nu bij hun in de cel lag. Des avonds vroeg ik aan een der landwachters, die toezicht op ons hielden of hij voor mij dat bijbeltje uit cel 13 wilde halen. Hij deed zulks. Het was of ik een vuur in mijn handen nam. Ik was toch een Christen belijder? Hoorde ook wel ten dele Gods woord, namelijk waarin Petrus zegt: "Werp al uwe kommernis op Hem, want hij zorgt voor u." Was er dan nu geen reden voor, om dit te doen? In gezelschap van mijn andere celgenoten heb ik toen gelezen de geschiedenis van Petrus in de gevangenis. (Handelingen 12), (noot G.O.: 12: 6-10?! ) welke geschiedenis ons zegt dat God hem uit de gevangenis verlost heeft. Hierop is een worsteling met God die nacht gevolgd, zoo ik mijn leven niet heb gehad. Wat gebeurde er die nacht. Het was omstreeks 03.00 uur, dat er gerommel aan onze celdeur kwam, zoodat we allen dachten dat de ondergrondsche ons eruit zou komen halen. De landwacht kwam op onze cel af en een van onze jongens vroeg aan hem. "Wat was dit toch landwacht?" Voor mij stond vast dat God mij openbaarde, dat ik uit de cel verlost zou worden. Ik ben luidkeels gaan zingen, een lied uit de bundel van Johannes de Heer no. 122 " ‘k Gaf mij alles op voor Jezus". Om 05.00 uur werd door de Duitsers onze celdeur geopend en ook die van mijn zoon en werd ons medegedeeld dat wij naar huis mochten.

Fred took the time and effort to translate Opa's statement into English...

Statement by Mr. W. R. Schut, bailiff in Apeldoorn, dated October 5, 1946.

I was put in a cell. There were already five persons. One of them I knew. His name was Scherpenzeel. Some of them had already spent several weeks in the cell. It was dirty and cramped. A hotbed of pests, measuring 2 by 3 meters. I will never forget those days and nights spent there in the cell. Separated from my people and in the hands of that scum (SD) that was capable of anything. We were imbued with the thought "Would we ever come out alive." Then we got courage. It was so close to liberation. What if the resistance movement not could not redeem us? In vain, no one came to save us. Right? If ever there was a time in my life that my faith was tested, then it was last night. It was known that somewhere in one of the cells, there was a bible. The last morning when we get to breathe fresh air my son informed me that it was now in their cell. In the evening I asked one of the guards to get me that bible from cell 13. He did so. It was like I took a fire in my hands. I was still a religious Christian? Heard also partly God's word, in particularly when Peter says: "Cast all thy sorrow on Him because He cares for you." Was there now no reason to do this? In the company of my other cellmates I read the story of Peter in prison. (Acts 12), (Note G.O.: 12: 6-10) which history tells us that God has delivered him from prison. Following a struggle with God that following night, I never had in my life. What happened that night. It was around 3:00 am, that rumbling came to our cell door, so we all thought that the resistance movement would come to get us out. The guard came to our cell, and one of our boys asked him: "Guard, what was that?" For me it was clear that God revealed to me that I should be delivered from the cell.  I've started to sing loudly a song from the collection of Johannes de Heer No. 122: ” I gave up everything for Jesus." At 05.00 am our cell door was opened by the Germans and that of my son and we were told that we were allowed to go home.....

I always wondered why our Dad was so religious through-out his entire life... now I know why... miracles do happen!