Josef Becker

As a 15-year-old, Josef Becker witnessed the heavy fighting in Bienen that took place from March 24th, 1945. Crowded into the basement of his parents' house he, his family and many neighbours sought shelter from Allied shelling. After the battle had ended, he realized that his village had been largely destroyed.

Our basement was now occupied by 27 civilians and several soldiers. Luggage, suitcases, and bags were scattered everywhere. Our clothes were also hanging there from a wire across the basement; shelves of preserves lined the walls. We heard from the Wessels family that the basement of the neighbouring Sent's house had been hit by shells and severely damaged, and after a short time, the Sent family also had to leave their own basement and walked through Giesen's garden to us. They were the father, Johann, and his wife Klara Sent, their daughters Helene and Irene, their sons Hans and Alois, and their son-in-law Theodor Gerritzen. So, these were another seven people, bringing the total to 34 civilians crammed into the small room. Then there were the soldiers of the mortar unit, who weren't always present, but there were always a few of them among us. The Sents reported that a shell had hit their cellar’s ceiling and that they could no longer stay there. Their daughter, Irene Sent, had been injured by several small pieces of shrapnel and was bandaged in the cellar by her father, a medic. We boys usually sat with the soldiers in the small anteroom under the stairs. The shelling, which never really stopped, increased in the evening and at night into a continuous barrage that went on until the early hours of Sunday morning. It's hard to imagine what went on in that small, dark cellar, especially when shells hit the house, and you thought the house would collapse at any moment, or a shell would penetrate the wall or the cellar ceiling. In particular, the children and the elderly screamed, prayed, and cried incessantly. The women and children no longer went upstairs to use the toilet (which had already been shot to pieces), nor could the go outside. All the stench, dust, sweat, and gunpowder smoke, plus the shouting, screaming, and praying of the women and children all night long—all of this was terribly nerve-wracking.

(Excerpt from: “Bienen 1939-1945. Erinnerungen, Erlebnisse, Berichte” by Josef Becker, published in 1999)

After the fighting in Bienen had ended, Josef Becker spent four days in the nearby Grietherbusch, but he and his family wanted to quickly return to their home in Bienen.

I walked into Bienen and came to the parish common, where the community center is located today. I approached a Canadian sitting in one of the small, agile tracked vehicles and asked him in plain German: "Wo Kommandantur?" He looked at me briefly, then raised his pistol, which he must have been playing with, aimed at me, and said: "Here Kommandantur!" Understandably, I opted for a swift retreat, didn't ask any further questions about the commandant's office, and ran home through the devastated village. Here I met my mother and siblings, who had just returned from Schlütter’s house. As far as I remember, everyone else had stayed behind at  Schlütter’s house. The Canadians who had occupied our house had already left. After a short stay, I went back to Grietherbusch, and returned to Bienen with my father the next day. Now we were all reunited. It was Easter Monday, April 2nd – a very rainy day - and Bernd and I sat on the damaged roof, trying to at least keep the kitchen dry from the rain. ... However, we were all happy that the war was over for us. Now things were starting to improve again. That the war would be lost had long been clear to most of the residents here. The truly new thing, in a negative sense, was that the village of Bienen was almost completely destroyed— one wasn't really able to get the full picture at the time, though. Fellow citizens had been killed, and about 70 fallen German soldiers were buried scattered throughout the village or had yet to be buried. Two cemeteries for fallen British and Canadian soldiers had been established on the outskirts of the village. All large livestock that had stayed behind and had been killed in the area had to be buried. Most of the carcasses were dragged into the trenches, emplacements, and bomb craters. All around us, there were burnt-out ruins. Knocked out or abandoned armoured vehicles and other vehicles littered the roads. The beautiful, peaceful village was no longer. The new era initially brought other problems as well. It is known that Canadian soldiers stole watches, rings, and other valuables from the pockets and bodies of civilians. We could name many people who suffered this fate. The Canadians showed no regard for material goods, furnishings, furniture, etc. They willfully littered, smashed, and carried off many things.

(Excerpt from: “Bienen in Bildern, Erinnerungen und Berichten” by Josef Becker, published in 2010)