Issue #15, June, 2004 Streng geheim First in, Last out!

Regiment Stoottroepen Prins Bernhard

Stories of Veteran-Troopers

March 1944 / August 1945
by Charles Kroesen ("Willy")

At the beginning of 1944 (March/April) under the authority of the committee of the National Commando Groups (Landelijke Knokploegen: LKP) a resistance group, after much preliminary work, was founded and stationed in 's-Hertogenbosch / Rosmalen with its activities in the eastern part of the province Noord-Brabant.

This resistance group, consisting of six men, was called "Margriet", after Princess Margriet born in the year before. Leader of this commando group was Willy Andriessen, an already in the resistance active, cadet-ensign of the K.N.I.L. (Royal Dutch Army in the East Indies), with the pen name "Emiel". The group is organized professional, shelter is arranged, just like ration-cards for food, clothing and smokers requisites, pocket money and also a reliable conveyance (a bicycle) is available. Everyone has a pistol or revolver. The members are continuously "stand-by", so that they are always within easy reach for an action meeting, to take actions, armor-exercise, etc. In the weekends they get regular a day-off. Mostly they work in teams of two men, but also with the whole group, for instance at a surprise on a ration-office. Perhaps the good relations between the BOSS and the village of Cuijk did already start in June 1944. In that month a successful surprise was executed on the ration-office of that village. On 14th August two members of the "Margriet", Emiel and Chris, were captured by the Germans. Two others were able to escape.

On 19th August, Emiel and Chris were shot at the village of Vught.

At the end of August reorganization took place. Stefke Feyen (he died on 14th August 1973) was the new leader and new people were engaged to strengthen the commando group. The engagement of new KP'ers was much easier due to the many persons in hiding in the area. Then the front came nearer and much sabotage had to be done. After "Market-Garden", the group also was in charge to watch several vital objects as the power plant at Orthen. Piet van der Lee was killed at one of these actions.

On 24th October a part of Rosmalen and 's-Hertogenbosch was liberated. It was there where most of the members were. Then the resistance group could start with public appearance and counted, according the figures of Stefke Feyen, round 70 men. They "participate" in the liberation of the remaining part of 's-Hertogenbosch, it took the allies a week to do so.

After assisting the civilians to overcome the problems connected with the liberation, the biggest part of the group strengthens the Regiment Brabant of the Stoottroepen in the middle of November.

It becomes the "Margriet"-company or the 8th company Regiment Brabant. The company is laid in the Frederik Hendrik-barracks at Vught and so now and then, there is someone to bring the company on strength again. The biggest completion came from the vicinity of Breda, when a group RVV'ers, complete with leader, formed the 3rd platoon. Early December everyone has a uniform or something that looks like it. Also it is known on which side of a stengun you may expect the bullets: "that side you must always keep away from you". Even the company has available a couple Lee-Enfield rifles.

Mid December, after the weapon arsenal of the company was extended, the company was found ready for combat. So there was no reason the men stayed any longer in the village of Vught. Trucks appeared, everything and everyone was loaded and the company left in the direction ............... of the province of Zeeland. For a dark reason they stopped in the village of Kruisland and quarters were prepared. Before everything was settled down, there was a message that everything has to be loaded again. Very soon, the new target is known, the "Margriet" is going to the Land of the rivers Maas and Waal to relieve the 1st Company.

Shortly before Christmas 1944 the company arrives in the villages of Wamel, Beneden-Leeuwen and Boven-Leeuwen. There they have to garrison a two-men foxhole (brengun-post). The 1st platoon lays in Wamel with the Canadians of the "Manitoba Dragoons", the 2nd platoon in Beneden-Leeuwen en the 3rd platoon in Boven-Leeuwen. The last two platoons lay in turns with the English (an English post, a Dutch post, an English post, etc.). The English are of the 49 Reconnaissance Regiment that belongs to the "Polar Bear Division".

When on a night a German patrol under a covering fire crosses the Waal, a house-to-house fight starts in Wamel by which two men of the 1st platoon are taken as prisoners of war by the Germans.

End February the company is pulled back to Oss for a period of rest. In the Land of Maas and Waal the "Margriet" receives a poem from the civilians as thanksgiving and the Reconnaissance Regiment a commemoration table. In Oss, the period of rest is rather short because after three days the company leaves as the first one of the Regiment Brabant for Germany. To "Berlin" is written down on the trucks. Nevertheless, Nijmegen is the first stop. Everything must now be loaded in DUKW's (amphibious vehicles), because the area further on is inundated. The company stops in the Reichswald and digs itself in, in the neighborhood of Cleve.

In this period, on 20th March 1945, Stefke Feyen is summoned in 's-Hertogenbosch, where he is allowed to hand over to Her Royal Highness Queen Wilhelmina five big silver Margriet-pins. Personally, Stefke pins up one at H.R.H.

Montgomery prepares in this area to cross the Rhine: "Operation Plunder". Patrol is a daily work. One night the company lies under heavy artillery fire, but due to the order by arrival to dig in oneself deep, the shelling fortunately no consequences.

At the beginning of April the "Margriet" crosses the Rhine and via Emmerich (Germany) they pass the Dutch boarder at 's-Heerenberg again. The company receives the order to guard a D.I.D. (Detail Issue Depot) in the vicinity of Didam and Zeddam. Nothing is so boring as guarding a big quantity boxes. That too is the meaning of the platoon commander of the 2nd platoon. He takes a motorbike and goes on a one-man reconnaissance patrol in the neighborhood. Everything goes well until he approaches Doesburg, that town is still occupied by the Germans. The platoon commander is taken under fire and with leaving behind his motorbike; he has to find his way back to Zeddam.

Consternation everywhere at his return, motorbike lost due to 'Krauts', who also occupied a Dutch town! This is enough reason for the "Margriet" to liberate Doesburg. Two platoons are on the way to attack and are supported by a couple tanks of Canadian unit, who is already north of Doesburg. A new-formed platoon consist of cooks, quartermaster-sergeant and medics will continue guarding the D.I.D. in the meantime.

With such an operation, you will not let the grass grow under your feet and so the fighting unit advances already the next day to Doesburg. Everything goes well until about 2 km before the target. Suddenly an English colonel appears and commands to stop. The moment fits well so everybody stops. However, when the next command "about turn! - march!" sounds, nobody understands; Doesburg is ahead. So for the "Margriet" it is still: "stop". In this position, motives are advanced to continue in the original line of marching, total ignoring the fact that an English colonel accepts nothing from a lieutenant (at the moment the highest in rank the "Margriet" has to present) and then this lieutenant is a Dutchman too.

The Dutch side continues with advancing motives, so the blood pressure of the English colonel rises in such a way that the color of his face looks like his uniform. Nevertheless, he is able to make clear that the commander faces a "court-martial". Fortunately for the colonel, one of the Margrieters knows the Dutch sense of the word. Stefke is informed about the possible consequences, this results in obeying the commands of the colonel. Canadian tanks back to their unit, the "Margriet" back to the D.I.D., in a heavy huff, Doesburg still occupied and the company has e motorbike less. It is not clear of it has been this action, but very soon after the return to the boxes and crates, the company leaves for Rijssen. This appears also to be a temporary home. We a Light Infantry Company cannot keep up with the fast advancing Canadians. Soon we are put in trucks again and via Coevorden, we run Germany in again, direction Oldenburg. In an extensive territory between the villages Burger, Neu-Burger and Esterwegen the company put up his shelters.

The war comes to an end and on 3rd May the "Margriet" packs up all theirs things and leaves the North German lowlands and goes to .............. 's-Hertogenbosch.

Here the enthusiastic celebration of the liberation on 5th May takes place. The "Margriet" company is back in the town from where she left in December '44. Back on the home base, without casualties. The two men, captured by the Germans in Wamel, afterwards return home in good health.

After 5th May the job is not completely finished. The company lies again near the Maas with the assignment to block the already longer liberated south for the just liberated people of the north. Deployed at Empel and Blauwe Sluis the company is a 'lost company' again, so they are without food. A get lost deer and a 'regular 'cow' in the foreland gives partial relief. Later on, the "Margriet" is transferred to Roosendaal and billeted in the Mission house. However, this shelter has an opposite effect on the men: they give e very private own sense of the word mission.

At that time, there is a pressure from all sites on the men to sign for "the Dutch East Indies". The "Margriet" proposes, after internal consult: we sign all together under the condition that we stay together. Guarantees are unfortunately not given and so it is: 'everyone for himself and .......'

The bulk resigns - it is August 1945.

Christmas Eve 1944 - Maasfront, Sambeek.
by Ted van den Driesschen

Christmas Eve 1944 was a very well moonlit night when Bert Zonneveld and I sauntered across the road to the post alongside the road. This was the first time I had to man this post. I had previously only manned the other posts facing the front.

Trying to settle in I found the trench most uncomfortable. Some very diligent digger had dug the trench far too deep for the likes of me. Being a six foot plus Bert did not have this problem. Standing behind the Brengun I could not even get my shoulder into it.

I suggested to Bert, "You man the Brengun." I relied on my ancient 5 round, 1917 Springfield, P14. As a standby for the Brengunner we had the abortion of all guns the Stengun. I believe this gun was made in a hurry to utilize all the 9mm ammunition found in the desert after the Africa Corps was beaten.

We only just settled in for the night. Getting our bearings was not difficult, with the full moon it was almost like daylight. Suddenly I spotted a patrol coming toward us. Walking along the road, walking in line, the five of them took up the whole width of the road. They seemed to be engaged in conversation. I could hear them talking but could not make out what language they were talking in.

Being a bright night I could see them against the skyline, yet it was not clear enough to see details, like color of their uniform, or recognize their arms.

At first glance they looked English, their trousers tucked in their anklets, no helmets but rolled-up Balaclavas and they carried their arms under the arm, like the English would. Their whole careless attitude seemed to signify they were on their own turf. Yet we had received no word of any English patrols out and about.

We were under no obligation to challenge; by rights we could have opened fire right away.

There was this nagging doubt, could it be an English patrol on a late return or perhaps a patrol strayed into our sector? Yet this nagging doubt! I did not relish the thought of shooting someone on our side. I told Bert not to shoot until I fired the first shot. Then I compromised, I challenged them. They stopped dead in their tracks, I asked for the password, their leader stepped forward talking softly in what sounded English. I again asked for the password. I then heard him say, "I don't know, I want to talk to sergt. Rogers." By then he'd approached that close that he was stooped down to talk to me. His submachine gun slung under his arm pointing toward me. I happened to momentarily glance past him and realized the others had spread out in a half-circle around the trench. I immediately opened fire, due to the depth of the trench I could not shoulder my rifle thus fired from the hip.

The patrol leader jumped back and returned my fire with his Mauser machine pistol whilst jumping from side to side, on the balls of his feet like a fighter. He kept firing single shot.

I released the bolt of the rifle and shoved in another cartridge and fired my second shot. This time I could determine the direction by the flash from the nozzle of the rifle. The third shot hit home. The 'Unteroffizier' spun around and without a sound fell on his face. My worst fear was that he would lie there in convulsions badly wounded.

Whilst I had been busy I didn't fail to notice Bert struggling with the Brengun. It had fired one shot and then stopped. I also noticed three of the Germans running past our trench, on my left thus on my far side. Now we had those fellows in the back to worry about. The fifth German was also face down on the ground in front of Bert, who said, "I've got one too I'll make sure he's dead." Before I could do anything to stop him he emptied a full magazine of automatic fire from the Stengun. "So he's stone dead." He said. I couldn't help worrying about the three that got away. Telling Bert to shift to the rear covering the entry to our trench we waited. After waiting a few minutes for a hand grenade into our trench nothing happened. I told Bert to cover me whilst I would go out to have a look.

Out the back there was no trace of the other Germans. I then went to the fellow that I shot.

He had a bullet straight through the throat and at that angle probably gone straight into his brain. He would have never known about it. Turning him around I slipped the 9 mm Luger off his belt and took his Mausser machine pistol. I returned to the trench to find my section commander and two soldiers arrived there.

The two soldiers went up to the other German (actually they were Austrians).

One prodded the German in the side and said, "He's as dead as a dodo." Whereupon the 'body' stood up, raised his arms and said, "My bad Luck." Jan, the poacher, kicked him in the butt with his, wooden clog shod, foot. Saying, "What do you mean, bad luck? For you the war is over." The Austrian corporal protested, "We don' treat our prisoners of war like that!"

With a never mind that, Jan took his clogs off stuck them inside his great coat and marched the fellow off on his stockinged feet. You have a better grip on a slippery road that way. We had taken to wearing wooden clogs lined with straw, in the trenches. Nothing better to keep your feet warm and dry in the snow and freezing cold.

After the Sergt. And the others, including Bert, had gone, everything went back to normal.

I took up the post again. I can't remember why Bert was absent for a while.

I did report that the three Germans could still be in the village. I was not happy with the thought that they still could be there. With that in mind I kept my eyes peeled, assuming they might want to return whence they came. Then suddenly I saw it! On my right on the other side of the road, from behind the farmhouse I saw this body crawling along the ground as fast as I ever saw. This was a job for a submachine gun. I grabbed the stengun and on automatic I pulled the trigger. After the second round the sten jammed. Disgusted I threw the sten down. By than the body had disappeared. There were two possibilities, he had either entered- or covered himself behind the stable of the farmhouse. Something I could not see from my position.

Taking my old faithful ancient 1917 rifle I left the trench, crossed the road and cautiously approached the stable. Looking behind it I saw no one. Then I heard it! Fairly heavy breathing coming from the stable. Standing next to the door I snarled, "Komm heraus!" (Come out).

No response but the breathing continued. After repeating my challenge twice more, I realized this was not getting me anywhere.

I did something then I doubt is to find in any manual. Striking a match I took a quick look inside the stable. There she/he was, a whopping big pig with, turned head, giving me stare as if to say what the hell do you want. Since that night we learned that the Brengun should have been adjusted for the cold weather.

The Prisoner was taken to the Comp. HQ. Where Kees Krijntjes, our C.C., questioned him. Apart from rank and serial No he gave nothing. Asked how many were in his patrol he said, "Between 5 and 500." Kees put a pistol to his head, it made him even more stubborn.

Eventually we had to pass him on to the English Intelligence. He told them everything they wanted to know. All that with a little applied psychology. Upon reception he was made comfortable given a cigarette, a drink whilst the music played some lovely German Christmas songs. Before long tears were running down his cheeks.

The Austrian patrol of five under the command of the 'Unteroffizier' had to bring back a prisoner of war, in order to establish what sort of unit they were opposing. It appeared that they were rather nonplussed by their opponent's, sometimes, unorthodox, behavior.

The Unteroffizier was awarded the 'Iron Cross' in recognition of his services as a specialist in reconnoitering. He had only just returned from his honeymoon.

Kees Krijntjes always stressed; Save one bullet for yourself in case you're about to be taken prisoner. The Germans refused to recognize Dutch soldiers as allied servicemen, and would treat them as franc-tireurs. Thus execute them if not torture them first.

Had these fellows succeeded in taken me prisoner it doesn't take a lot of imagination what could have happened.

I've since many times wondered, why this fellow did fire single shot instead of automatic, which would have got me for sure.

The moment war stopped
by Ted van den Driesschen

New Years Eve, 1944. Frontline on the River Meuse.
The third company Regt. Brabant Stoottroepen had been until now been in the trenches for almost 2 months uninterrupted. Two months of mud, snow and ice. It was not until later the discovery was made, that we were the only ones doing that. Other Allied troops spent 9 days in the trenches and then were taken to a nearby city e.g. Eindhoven for R.& R. By the time we discovered that and representations were made to the British about this they promised we would get the same. This never happened because by that time we moved into Germany. All in all we spent more than 4 months in the trenches. In January when snow started to fall, the Germans had the advantage over us not only with superior weapons but also snow camouflage. We were issued for the winter with gumboots and leather vests without sleeves. The gumboots would not keep out the cold end even the wet from the snow. The most effective way of keeping your feet warm, standing in the trenches for hours, was to wear good old fashion wooden clogs lined with straw.

On New Years Eve, we had planned to fire off all the tracer bullets, (Illuminating bullets), straight into the air. Which we had saved for the occasion, to celebrate the New Year.

However, one of our officers got the wind of it and word was spread to the trenches; anyone firing one unnecessary bullet would forego his coming leave. (Ironically that leave never came!) Having had no leave at all for that long no one was prepared to risk it.

Imagine our amazement, and disgust at what we were stopped from doing. At 12 o'clock sharp, the enemy did exactly what we had planned! There it was right in front of us all tracers went up straight into the air!

The Germans came out of their trenches and celebrated with pots and pans and song, shouting out to us to join them in celebration.

One of our officers, running down to investigate, went straight back to call for artillery fire to be laid upon the celebrating Germans. The Germans, being no novices at this game, jeered and sang out "Come on send some more", jumping for cover only then when the grenades landed too close for comfort.

I sort of felt disappointed for the lack of sportsmanship on our side.

1 January 1945.
As the section sergt. one is not supposed to sleep during the night, so I could only try to snatch a couple of hours during the day as best as one could.

Sitting down for breakfast on New Years morning, I hardly started when all hell broke lose.

Running out I saw, like a swarm of swallows, Messerschmitts diving down on us strafing as they went. It must have been the last convulsion of the German Luftwaffe. The whole of the western front line was under attack.

As they swooped down on us firing away they would turn and go back and come in for another run. My first reaction was to run to the trench were the single day-sentry was busy trying to set up the brengun and line up the plane in his sights. Of course the plane would be gone by then. Yelling out to him to get out of the trench, I snatched the brengun and raced back between the houses. Positioning myself to give myself sufficient cover yet has a clear line of fire I fired from the hip.

By then everybody had raced out, it was on for young and old firing away with everything they had. I remember our CC., Kees Krijntjes (he was later killed in Sumatra) yelling; "Everybody out of the trenches and in between the houses." He himself also fires away.

After it was all over; our tally was 2 Messerschmitts and two prisoners of war.

One Messerschmitt was hit by our best brengunner, the other, believe it or not by our gopher, (he always had to go for everything) this morning the boys had told him to go for milk.

He was at the farm collecting his jug of milk and talking to the farmers when the attack started. The farmers told him he had better go before he would get into trouble for being AWOL.

So he started his way back. Dressed in his greatcoat, rifle over one shoulder the milk-jug in his other hand. Crossing the wide-open paddock on his way back he was spotted by one of the pilots, who made a turn to line him up for the attack. When the pilot opened up fire our gopher, careful not to spill the milk put down the jug, took the rifle from his shoulder and with the plane firing away at him, he took careful aim, all according to the book, and pulled the trigger. With a bang the engine stopped and the pilot made a perfect belly landing in the paddock, past our friend. Ripping open the canopy whilst the plane was still sliding, he clambered out and jumped off when the plane nearly stopped. His progress was stopped by two English soldiers, who had been spectators from behind a house. Much to our chagrin, they took possession of the pilot's pistol and refused to hand it over to us. To our contention, the weapon should go to the one who shot the plane. Miraculously we suffered no losses.

So you see, at twelve o'clock the war had stopped for a moment, only to resume in all its fury a few hours later.

Action Heerewaarden
by Lucky Boy.

It soon became obvious that this was not going to be just another day. Two platoons of the 12th company stood, lined up in full kit with loaded weapons, ordered to stand-by. At 800 hrs, suddenly with a great din, the English artillery opened up. The firing came from Alphen (above Oss). Their fire was aimed somewhere near Heerewaarden. With the grenades whistling overhead, we were ordered to march on to the village as soon as the barrage stopped. Our target, the village, was situated in a sort peninsula where the river Waal looped around the village. This was where the two rivers Maas and Waal came close together. This peninsula was no-mansland, sometimes occupied by the Germans sometimes patrolled by the allies. Luckily the artillery didn't last very long, in our opinion it probably would only lead to civilian victims.

We moved in single files through paddocks and orchards to the village. The village was quiet and deserted as most inhabitants already had been evacuated. Moving cautiously from house to house a group of troopers spotted two men, dressed only in uniform trousers and boots, no jackets, in their underwear. They were unarmed. Obviously they made no effort to hide, quiet prepared to surrender. The reason for discarding their jackets became clear when the boys discovered the tattooed number on their upper arm. To us it was clear they were SS'ers, something other allied troops may not have realized. They had enough of the war. Acting on information from some villagers we also arrested a number of Dutch Nazis, to be transported back to base.

Suddenly out of nowhere a woman on a pushbike appeared, agitated she pedaled furiously with flapping skirt toward us. It looked like she was on an urgent mission. When she pulled up she gave us, in a loud voice, a verbal tongue-lashing about the artillery bombardment. "We were lucky there were no civilian casualties." As far as she knew. Timidly we tried to explain, it was not our responsibility, it was the English Command. The urgency of her mission, being a midwife, she happened to be on the way to an impending birth, brought an end to the verbal tussle. It was ironic; this woman on the way to bring a new life in the world, whilst we were on the way to perhaps losing -or, out of necessity, taking a life.

The lieutenant ordered the Bren crew to the opposite side of the street to take up position near the hedge of a farmhouse. This was to be the place for civilians mainly women and children, to gather and led to safety. It was necessary as the Germans started increasingly to terrorize the civilians. The Bren-crew directed the civilians, carrying bags and bundles in sheets tied with string, to hide behind the hedge, to hide them from view.

There appeared a farmer sitting on his horse-drawn-wagon. A white pillow-slip tied to a stick, fixed to the wagon. Unperturbed he went about his daily business. Obviously our presence didn't upset him as much as the midwife. He pulled up and asked would we like some apples. He went on his way and got out of sight. Meanwhile the women were anxious to get away to safety to liberated territory. Then we could hear the farmer return. He pulled up and tossed a large bag with apples off the wagon. With the apples we also had a problem, how were we going to lug this huge bag all the way back to base. Jumbo, our bren-helper, a solid powerful character, had a solution. If someone else carries my gear then I'll carry the apples on my back. It must have been a sight for sore eyes. Two troopers, one carrying a large bag of apples, the other both their weapons, followed by a column of women and children carrying their bundles covered by a couple of troopers, then two partly dressed SS'ers with a group of Dutch Nazis surrounded by troopers. Relieved and unharmed did we arrive in liberated territory under loud acclaim of the locals. We still had the shrill voice of the midwife ringing in our ears.

Lucky Boy.

Looking right from Post-10 there was another post. One could tell by the surrounding sandbags. This post was on the outside of the embankment with the view over the holms direction of the town of Tiel, in between ran the river Waal. If one concentrated on the other side of the river, one could detect German activity.

We did have a problem! Our main concern was whether this post was occupied at nights. As we were sharing the line with other allied troops we had no way of knowing unless we consulted the Canadian liaison officer. Contacted by our English-speaking man an appointment was made to check out this Ghost-post that afternoon. The cause of our concern was; Through the previous night we heard a terrifying noise from the Main street at a time when there was no enemy activity. We, on further reflection, suspected a large piece of masonry may have come crashing down from the heavily damaged tower of the church of Wamel.

14.00 hrs the Canadian lieutenant called to collect Bill to accompany him to Post-11(?). Under cover of the houses in the main street they walked to the track that led to the post. Followed by the Canadian the trooper approached the post, when suddenly the lieutenant shouted, "Watch out, booby trap!" Too late! The trooper already hit the tripwire with his boot. Immediately a sharp hissing could be heard. The trooper immediately dropped to the ground covering his head with his arms, waiting. The Canadian just managed to reach the cover of a nearby house, waiting for the big bang.

During those anxious 3 seconds waiting, a whole lifetime goes through your mind; will I ever see my family again? Do I have to lose my life just when freedom is in sight? When the hissing stopped, The trooper waited some more, would there be a delayed action? Will there yet be an explosion? The Canadian also kept under cover. No this had been too long the trooper got to his feet and walked to the Canadian officer. He could only utter in amazement, "YOU ARE A LUCKY BOY!"

To this very day, the Stoter asks himself, "Who had been his guardian angel?" Ever after this episode, no-one asked for Bill anymore, but called him 'Lucky Boy'.

8 December 2000, L.B.