On To Victory: The Canadian Liberation of the Netherlands, March 23-May 5, 1945 - Brossura

Mark Zuehlke is a leading Canadian popular historian, the author of 19 books, including nine devoted to military history. His popular series on the role Canadians played in World War II has garnered critical praise, awards and mountains of fan letters. Mark Zuehlke lives in Victoria, British Columbia.

Introduction - The Sweetest of Springs

Amsterdam, May 7, 1945

Less than forty-eight hours after the German surrender in the Netherlands and northwest Germany, the Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry crammed aboard trucks, Bren carriers, and jeeps to roll out of Amersfoort at 0805 hours. The battalion was under orders to speed to Haarlem, and specifically the small village of Bloemendaal on its outskirts, to secure a large ammunition dump and weapons cache. The war was over, administrating the peace a pressing necessity.

Lieutenant Colonel R.P. "Slug" Clark had raced ahead at dawn to contact the German commander at Haarlem and arrange an orderly takeover. With only two companions, Clark approached a roadblock manned by "fully armed" Germans, who "seemed... extremely surprised to see an Allied vehicle passing through their fortification." Clark was relieved that the Germans had kept their arms shouldered. As the jeep passed through Amsterdam "early in the morning, the city appeared to be deserted," until a couple of people appeared and "suddenly recognized an Allied vehicle. There were a few shouts, then heads began to pop out of windows. Before we got to the end of this long main street it seemed as though the whole population of the city was blocking our path... From all appearances no Allied soldiers had been along this main road from the south until my small party arrived." Clark would thereafter claim the ppcli "was the first Allied force to enter Amsterdam."

Amsterdam was ready and waiting when the ppcli's main body arrived a couple of hours later. "The reception... was overwhelming," the battalion war diarist wrote. "Vehicles were completely covered with flowers-thousands of people lined the streets, screaming welcomes, throwing flowers, confetti and streamers, waving flags and orange pennants, and boarding vehicles. Never have so many happy people been seen at one time."

All over Holland the same story was playing out, but nowhere more ecstatically than in the large cities of the Randstad region, which encompassed Amsterdam, Rotterdam, The Hague, Leiden, Haarlem, Hilversum, and Utrecht. This was the liberation. This was the time the Dutch would forever remember as the "sweetest of springs."

"Every village, street and house was bedecked with the red, white and blue Dutch flags and orange streamers, which in the brilliant sunlight made a gay scene," one officer wrote. "The Dutch people lined the roads and streets in thousands to give us a great welcome. Wherever the convoy had to slow up for a road block or a bridge, hundreds of people waved, shouted and even fondled the vehicles. When the convoy reached the outskirts of Amsterdam it lost
all semblance of a military column. A vehicle would be unable to move because of civilians surrounding it, climbing on it, throwing flowers, bestowing handshakes, hugs and kisses. One could not see the vehicle or trailer for legs, arms, heads and bodies draped all over it... Boy scouts as well as civilian police and resistance fighters had turned out in large numbers to attempt to control the crowds and to guide the vehicles to their destinations.

"The Dutch people whom we saw looked healthier than we expected to find them but most of them had sunken eyes betraying months of insufficient food. It was said that there were many thousands in Amsterdam not out to welcome us because they were too feeble from hunger to move into the streets."

Late that Monday morning, a second column of Canadian troops wended its way through Amsterdam's crowds. These were the Sea forth Highlanders of Canada with a squadron of armoured cars driven by the Princess Louise's Dragoon Guards in support. All told, they numbered a thousand men, and their task was to garrison the capital city with its 800,000 people. Lieutenant Colonel Henry "Budge" Bell-Irving thought, "There must have been half a million people throwing beautiful flowers at us. An old lady, handing me a bunch of roses, said from the very bottom of her soul, 'Thank God, at last you've come.'"

"Thousands upon thousands line the streets for four miles," Seaforth padre Roy Durnford scribbled in his diary. "Flowers-roses, tulips & every sort. Crowds load every vehicle including our rap [Regimental Aid Post] jeep. I stand on running board. Terrific welcome. They tell in broken English with tears & unbridled joy how thankful they are to us. Children are lovely. Terrible shortage of food, 1/2 loaf bread, handful of potatoes per week. No fats, no tea, sugar, cocoa, firewood. Thousands of old people die. We camp in park... I rejoice today with the free."

Vondelspark was soon fortified with barricades to keep the surging crowds at bay. The city's heart was an ideal spot for a small army camp. The Canadians hunkered down behind their barricades, knowing they had little or no control over the city. Even the stillarmed Germans outnumbered them. Their encampment was easily infiltrated. The garden gate of young Margriet Blaisse's family home connected the backyard to the park. Looking out the windows, the family watched the soldiers. Turning to Margriet, her father said, "Look, dear, I think the Canadians are in the park. Go over and see if you can talk to one of them." As Margriet dashed out, her father called to her, "Whatever you do, don't fall in love with any of them. They're all going back to Canada and you're staying right here in Amsterdam!" The first Canadian Margriet set eyes on was tall and slender. She approached boldly. "My parents would be thrilled if you could come to the house, so we can thank you for the liberation. We live right here in the park."

Lieutenant Wilf Gildersleeve smiled, introduced himself, and then called to his platoon. "Hey, fellas, we're going to have a drink or something." "I came back with twenty Canadians. My parents couldn't believe it. They were all sitting on the balcony laughing, crying, and talking, and the whole bit. Then they left again. In the evening, we still had no electricity, no light, no bell. We heard knocking on the front door. So my mother said to me, 'Go and see who's knocking.'

"I went downstairs, opened the door, and there was Wilf with a friend. Wilf was dressed in a kilt with his arms full of bread and butter and cheese and ham, and I yelled to my mother, 'Two men in skirts,' because I had never seen a fellow in a kilt before. They came in and watched us eat. Oh, my gosh, we ate so much that evening."