Page 22 of Who We Think We Are

“Don’t feel embarrassed,” says Carole. “If records had not been destroyed, that might be enough to go on. I will take this information and start a file, and I’ll take your contact information. Is there anyone still alive who could give you more information?”

“The answer to that question is yes, but they won’t discuss it. They won’t admit any of it is true.”

“That is very typical,” says Carole. “The Lebensborn program is shrouded in secrecy and shame. No one wants to admit they were involved, mothers or children. The fathers are completely unknown, so they get off easy. Yet others crave the answers they are afraid to find. Let me know if you find any other information, and I will do the same.”

“Thanks, Carole. You’ve been very kind. I’ll do my best to find more for you to go on.”

As they walk out the door, Kate tells Mikelia, “I have had about enough of this wild goose chase! Good thing we didn’t check in at a hotel. We’re going back to Utrecht.”

“I have no idea what a wild goose chase is,” says Mikelia. “But if it means we’re going to shake your uncles down and get the truth out of them, then I’m all in.”

“That is exactly what it means. Let’s get a hotel in Utrecht. We’ll see de ooms in the morning while Tamara is at work. Maybe they’ll be more honest without her there.”

The next morning, Thursday, Kate and Mikelia have a leisurely breakfast at a café along the river in Utrecht. Kate says, “We can’t go to Oom Dirk’s before ten.”

After breakfast, they walk to Oom Dirk’s flat and stop at Schulte’s Bakkerij. “We have to. It’s considered rude to show up without something to offer the host,” Kate says to Mikelia.

“Well, ja, of course. It is the same in Denmark.”

When they arrive at the apartment building, Kate tells Mikelia, “I’m giving you a heads up: Oom Dirk is a sweetheart, but Oom Cor is a tough nut to crack. You may think I’m being rude to him, but you have to fight fire with fire to get anywhere with him.”

Mikelia laughs. “I have no idea what you are saying about nuts and fires, but I will follow your lead, mon capitan.”

At 10:05 a.m., Kate knocks on Oom Dirk’s door. He opens it and says, “Katje! What a lovely surprise! I didn’t know you were back in Utrecht. Come in and introduce me to your friend.”

“Oom Dirk, this is my friend Mikelia. She and I have been friends since university, and she lives in Denmark.”

“So pleased to meet you, Mr. Van Dijk,” says Mikelia.

“Please, call me Dirk or Oom Dirk. I’ll call Cor and have him join us. You make the tea and coffee, Katje, and put out whatever yummy thing is hiding in that bakery box.”

Once Oom Cor arrives, introductions are made.

When they’re settled in the living room, coffee and tea are poured, and pastries are being nibbled on, Oom Cor breaks the ice with a sledgehammer, just like he did a few weeks ago.

“What are you doing here, Katje? You are very strategic. You have been to the archives in The Hague, you did not let us know you were coming today, and you are here when you know Tamara is at work.”

“Cor, don’t be so rude,” says Oom Dirk.

“I am not being rude, brother. Our niece is a smart girl and does not leave things to chance. Am I wrong, Katje?” asks Oom Cor, who then sits back and takes a big bite out of his pastry, crumbs falling all over his knitted vest.

“No, you’re not wrong, Oom Cor,” says Kate. “We might as well get right to it. I have come to see you when Tamara isn’t here because I hope you’ll be more honest with me when you’re not trying to keep the family’s Nazi past a secret from her.”

“We’re not …” starts Oom Cor.

“Stop right there, Oom Cor. You want to know what I’m doing here, and I’m telling you.

So, sit back, enjoy your pastry, and listen.

I went to the Central Archive for Special Jurisdiction in The Hague in September.

They have archives with files on Dutch Nazi collaborators.

I read the files on Oma, both of your parents, and your cousin Jaap. ”

“And what did you learn?” asks Oom Cor. “You don’t read or speak Dutch.”

“No, but I translated their records. It took a long time, and it was grueling, but I learned a lot. If you want, I’m happy to give you a copy of everything I translated.

I found it interesting that the files mostly contained police reports and where each of them was interviewed, so the record is in their own words.

Here is what Oma said …” Kate reads Oma’s interview to them, sits back, takes a big bite of her pastry, the crumbs falling on her strategically placed napkin, and says nothing further.

Oom Dirk speaks first, as Kate knew he would. “Katje, we simply don’t see how it can help anyone to dig things up from the past. All that was so long ago. Cor and I decided that when our sister kept the family’s past a secret, we would too.”

Oom Cor cuts across Oom Dirk and says, “And we intend to keep it that way. So, you do not have our permission to talk about it with Tamara or any of my children.”

“That’s it? You’re not going to say anything about the baby Oma had in the Lebensborn home? The one she talks about in her own words in the police report?”

“We don’t know anything about that,” says Oom Cor.

“If she had a baby, and that is a big if, we never knew anything about it. We were her younger brothers. No one told us anything. All we knew was that she and Jaap were both gone for a while, and when they came back, we moved to Dalfsen, where we all joined the resistance. That’s where we lived when we rescued your grandfather from his plane when he crashed. ”

“That’s all you’re going to say? I am searching for the truth, and I keep asking you to help. There is no one else I can go to.”

“That’s all there is to tell, Katje,” says Oom Cor. “We were children.”

“OK then, Oom Cor, Oom Dirk, we better get going. Honestly, I don’t know why you’re lying and protecting Oma’s secrets with all your might.

I would think you’d want to help me. But maybe you would be willing to be honest about one thing.

In your mother’s file, she says that she was a member of the NSB until 1938, when her Jewish friends were kicked out of the party. What happened to them?”

“Ja, I will tell you about that,” says Oom Cor.

“Bram and Helen Weisglas were our parents’ best friends.

They joined the NSB together in 1933. God knows why.

But Oom Bram and Tante Helen were forced out of the NSB for being Jewish in 1938.

In 1942, the Weisglas family went into hiding with some friends who had extra space in their home, and Mama helped by bringing them food, books, paper, pencils, and clothes.

Papa would never have agreed to her doing that.

But he was in Germany, so Mama did what she thought was right. ”

“And did all of you know about it?” asks Kate.

“Nay, it would have been too dangerous to have children keep that secret,” says Oom Cor. “We didn’t find out about it until after the war. So, Katje, things are not as simple as they seem, are they?”

“No, they sure aren’t,” agrees Kate, who feels a surge of pride in this great-grandmother she never knew. “Were you proud of your Mama?”

“Ja, natuurlijk,” says Oom Cor.

“Well, at least you told me something. Thank you. We need to get going now.”

Oom Dirk says, “Katje, I’ve been trying a new cookie recipe. Take some with you to have as a treat with your tea tonight.”

“No, Oom Dirk, that’s OK.”

“Kate, don’t be rude. Yes, Oom Dirk,” says Mikelia, “we would love to take some of your cookies. I’m sure they’re delicious.”

Oom Dirk disappears into the kitchen, returns with the box Kate brought pastries in, and hands it to Mikelia.

“Thank you. We will enjoy them, I’m sure.”

After they leave, Kate asks Mikelia, “What was that about? Why were you so intent on us taking Oom Dirk’s cookies?”

“Because Kate,” Mikelia reaches into the box and pulls out two envelopes stuffed thick with paper. “When you were sparring with Cor, Dirk slipped out of the room, and when he came back, I could see something sticking out of his pocket.”

“Oh my God, you genius! What are those? What does that say on the Post-it note? Can you read it?”

“I know German, not Dutch, Kate. Remember? But Google Translate will be able to help us, I’m pretty sure!”