Oskar Treutlein

Ten year-old Oskar Treutlein witnessed British airborne units landing near Hamminkeln. He and his mother initially had lived with relatives in Wesel. After the nearly complete destruction of the city in February 1945, they all found accommodation on a farm near Hamminkeln. When British soldiers captured the village on March 24th, 1945, his family and other civilians were marched to the local Protestant church and placed under guard. They experienced dramatic hours when the Germans shelled the church, killing an injuring several civilians.

My aunt Johanna and my uncle Josef were bombed out in Wesel and evacuated to Hamminkeln, as were my mother and I. We lived there with the Möllenbeck family in the Bramhorst area. The artillery barrage began on Friday in the evening, and we went to Schlabes to take cover in the storage cellar, because it was designated as an airraid shelter. The next morning, we wanted to go back home from there but then we heard the sound of planes. We thought it was another air raid on the Ruhr industrial area. It was a crystal-clear spring day, but then the sky got dark - so we went back to Schlabes. Then the glider landings began. From my position at the Schlabes house I saw German soldiers firing Panzerfausts (anti-tank rockets) at the gliders. A Mr. Hesper was already hiding a piece of white cloth behind his back and encouraging the German soldiers to surrender. The civilians were afraid because resistance would put them in danger; they thought the English would smoke us out. A German NCO threatened Mr. Hesper and the rest of us. Then the soldiers entered our cellar to take cover, but the bunker occupants drove them out. It was only later, when the non-commissioned officer was captured by the English, that things calmed down. At around 2 or 3 PM we went back to the Möllenbeck farm. There was a dressing station in the barn, where I saw dying and wounded men – which affected me and still affects to this day. There was a young English soldier man who had been shot in the stomach, his intestines were hanging out and he was moaning "Mother." The medics also took care of German wounded, patching them up. German prisoners were locked up in the cowshed. I was the only child present, and it was all too terrible for me to watch. To keep me from witnessing this any longer, an English sergeant gave me a face-saving order: "Go and bring the German soldiers some water." And thus, I went to the pump carrying a milking bucket. Then came another order: “Pack up, take your emergency suitcase with you!” For that purpose, I had my school satchel with me. We set off for Hamminkeln. The fighting had largely stopped, and I saw the dead lying on the meadows and in the ditches. We were taken to the Protestant church; at first there were about 15-20 of us, but that number grew, and we gathered like a procession. The English were not so friendly; they forbade us to speak. We came to the Protestant church, where a lot of people had already been gathered. Late in the evening or at night, the men were told to go to the ballroom in Neu’s pub. There was something like a wireless or observation post on the church tower. We were supposed to stay in the church; we were not told how long, but there was food: butter, cheese, bread. Bread was being sliced on the altar, butter cut into cubes. People were sitting on the benches; prams were standing in the aisles. The church was very full, but everything went smoothly. On Sunday evening, a Dutch interpreter said that the Germans had been informed that there were women and children in the church: "Don't worry, safety is guaranteed." As we prepared for the night, I said goodbye to my playmate. Then there was a bang, everything went dark, my playmate fell over, I was hit in the hand. Then panic broke out, everyone wanted to get out, stormed out towards Neu’s pub. The beer cellar there was an old vault, we felt safer there. My mother had been shot through in the ear by a shell fragment, my aunt had been shot through in the arm by a fragment. English medics and a doctor took care of the wounds. Mr. Schlabes had been killed, Mrs. Möllenbeck was dead, one woman’s mother and son were also killed in the church. It was quite a mess. The English were reserved but helpful, and there was no reason to complain. I smuggled myself back into the ballroom at Neu’s to be with the men, who had to stay there during the night. On Monday morning, we saw there was chaos all around, but later that day we were released and free to go. The Schroer family – who ran a blacksmith’s shop - took us with them. There was military traffic in the village, lots of tanks rattling through. That's why we had to stay in the house. First there was a curfew, then there were a few hours a day when people could run errands. English soldiers were also billeted in the house.

(Recorded by Alexander Berkel in 1994)