On July 1, our Northern Neighbors will celebrate “Canada Day,” which is also their Memorial Day.

This story is a thankful tribute written by a Dutchman who lived in his native country during the 2nd World War; who survived the 1940 bombing of Rotterdam and remembers the first liberating Canadian tanks coming into his home town of Rijssen in 1945.

JAARSVELD

Not exactly a well-known place. Not even in The Netherlands. It is a small village that nestles below the scenic River Lek.

You can barely drive along the narrow twisting road on top of the dike; and unless you make it a point to look towards the north, in the polder (reclaimed land from the former river bed) you could miss it completely. Jaarsveld is not known for anything.

Its citizens enjoy the tranquility of the countryside, living their lives working in the near-by towns during the week and being with their families and attending services in the local Reformed church on Sunday. It has been that way for a long time.

Few visitors come to Jaarsveld, except those who have friends or relatives in the village. One might say it is the Lake Woebegone of the province of South Holland.

It is typical of many such little villages in Holland. Not much ever happens there. But there was a night, many years ago in 1943, to be exact, that fate chose Jaarsveld as the final resting place for five Canadian airmen.

Clifford Reichert (Commander), John Dockerill (Radio Operator), Gordon Lean (Flight Engineer), Earl Monaham (aiming bombs) and Bill Serle (Shooter) came from various parts of Canada. They were young men inspired by idealism.

Most of them, this crew of seven, were under 25 years of age. I wondered, as we, a tour group of Americans stood by the simple, but powerful monument erected in their honor, what drove these heroes to leave their families?

They left their occupations, their country, and learned the skills that made them into a bomber crew. Why did they do what they did? Why were they ready to pay the supreme sacrifice, if needed, so that others, like me, in a far-off land, would be made free? I wondered. They were volunteers. They were not drafted. They trained in England and soon they became skilled in the art of war, piloting a giant Halifax bomber, flying bombing missions over Germany. I wondered. Why?

On the night of June 21, 1943, like on so many other nights during the war, I could not sleep. It seemed almost every night the drone of allied planes on their way to Germany would keep us awake.

We knew that the war was intensifying, and we hoped for a speedy end. Most nights the steady, almost hypnotic overhead drone would eventually lull us to sleep. In war you can get used to most anything, even bombers flying overhead. But this night was different. The sounds of the airplanes were so loud, so powerful!

My parents let us go outside to see what we could see. There must have been hundreds of planes glistening in the moonlight against the night sky. Later, much later, we learned that 700 bombers had participated on that nights bombing run.

Squadron 408, with its Canadian crew, fulfilled their mission. The town of Krefeld was totally demolished, and well over a thousand inhabitants were killed and vital armament producing factories destroyed. I know what those people experienced. I remembered a similar experience when the heart of Rotterdam (my home town) was bombed and totally destroyed by the Germans in May 1940.

Mission accomplished! The bombers turned back towards England, and with a little luck, in a couple of hours they would touch down on friendly soil. But…….It was not to be.

Somewhere over Holland the bombers, being easy targets for the much faster German fighter pilots, were attacked and the Halifax with its Canadian volunteer crew, piloted by 24 year old Clifford Reichert, burst into flames. There was no possibility of reaching England. The pilot, told his crew to bail out, while he would attempt to steady the plane. Of the seven crew members, five perished, two survived. The plane crashed into the Lek River, just outside of Jaarsveld.

A few years ago, during the Dutch Memorial Day weekend, I had the opportunity to bring a group of American travelers to Holland.

Bette and I operated a small group-tour travel agency called Windmill Adventures. Four of my St. Stephens Bell Ringers: Diane Johnson, Twyla Kelly, Susan Haram and Sandra Larsen were part the group.

I wanted them to experience the depth of gratitude that the Dutch have for the Canadian, English and American soldiers who, like the men of Squadron 408, gave their all so that others, including me, might live.

We stood on the little dike near Jaarsveld, and each in our own way, said “Thank You” to the men who forever now can call Jaarsveld, “Home”. At the monument we saw their pictures and parts of their plane. Together we recited from Psalm 113 and the Jewish Book of Prayer:

“In the rising of the sun and its going down, WE REMEMBER THEM…….

So as long as we live, they too shall live, for they are part of us: WE REMEMBER THEM.”

It was part of a simple, elegant tribute to those of whom it is said, “Greater love hath no man than to give his life for his friends.” These men gave more. They gave their lives for an ideal, and I, and my fellow Dutch countrymen, will be eternally grateful. May God help me to be worthy of their sacrifice.

Written at the base of the Jaarsfeld monument are these words:

“They were part of a massive force

To carry the message of freedom.”

EDITOR’S NOTE: Gerrit Lamain is a former Copper Country resident who served as a music professor at Suomi College. He was also the organist for the Michigan Tech hockey team before moving on to the Minnesota North Stars.