Five Brothers and a War

Homecoming

Having established their group, the boys concocted an excuse to better perform their duties around the clock, if necessary. They found a vacant horse stable nearby to serve as their office—their “headquarters”. The reality, of course, was that is was a good deal more akin to a clubhouse than an office. Perhaps a “fort” would be an appropriate word, other than the fact that small children like to have “forts”, whereas older children prefer “offices”, “headquarters” or “operations centers”. In any event, their “office” had a loft used to store hay and straw. That was an ideal place for them to spend nights. As everything was novel to them in their new, if temporary, line of work, they exchanged stories until they were totally exhausted from laughter. One day, Tjomme decided to share the highlight of his day. He had been standing guard in front of a building that needed protection. Tjomme, a light-hearted individual, was pretty bored with his assignment and he was tired of standing straight, so he used the brick wall behind him to keep his balance. To emphasize his boredom, he used the string on his garden hose to twirl his weapon around his index finger. While he was doing this, a high-ranking Dutch officer approached his building. There was no doubt this man was important, and almost certainly, very important. Judging by all the decorations, insignia and brass festooning his beautifully pressed uniform, not to mention his equally adorned cap, the man was a poster-child for the military. This was, at least judging by appearances, a man not to be trifled with. Even a civilian who came across this man would feel the necessity to jump to attention and give a crisp salute. Tjomme was not the sort of person to pay much attention to any sort of stratification, even with regard to the military, including any trappings of upper level officer positions. So Tjomme took in the arrival of the senior officer in a manner befitting Tjomme. He was certainly not about to make a big issue of this man’s arrival, so he casually looked him over, causing the man to stop and set him straight on military protocol. “Young man,” he bellowed, “stand at attention and make the required and proper salute, especially when I am talking to you.” Not at all impressed by that military jargon, he kept on twirling his enforcer, still leaning against the wall. “I am sorry Sir, but I was just wondering whether you were higher or lower than me in rank.” Ready and eager to blow his stack, the officer, realizing the futility of trying to educate this sorry excuse for a soldier, and no doubt worried about the future of the newly-liberated country, rolled his eyes and shook his head while entering the building. Time went by very quickly in those days, with one story following another. Finally, one day, tall Wim van Rossum rose to his full height, ready to finally contribute his share in relating interesting experiences. He stood on a pile of straw wearing only a pair of long johns that definitely had seen better times, judging by the many holes on display. As he did so, Jan Siegers told Wim to lie down again, as he was not in the mood to get up to salute him so late in the evening. The Dutch NBS was in good hands, and was very well protected—in no way due to the efforts of the small band in Den Haag.

van Pelt

Five Brothers and a War

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