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My family was a resistance-group during WW2.
They lived in an area where many parachutists landed (Operation Market Garden). The town most of them lived in was front city for a relatively long time.

In 1942 one of the members was caught by the Nazis.
He was a priest and his activities consisted (among others) of hiding aircrews and bringing them to people who transported them across the border.
The Nazis interrogated him, but he said nothing. At last they executed him.

I don't know if this was the reason my father left home. The Arbeitseinsatz might have been a reason too.
My father went to England and joined the RAF.
In spring 1943 he went to Canada (disembarked in Nova Scotia) for training and education.

We still don't know much about his time during the war.

He worked for the RAF during the war. He was registered 15 march 1945 because he became of age then His service number was 2795320.

After 25 year he returned to the people he stayed with during WW2 in Wolverhampton. He took me with him.
One of the WW2 girls Cathy, probably nee Ball, had married in the meantime. So we stayed with Family Brotherton. (They had 4 children, 2 girls and 2 boys)
His friend Ron drove us around the UK and took us to many important places: like the Lake District, and told many stories, among them about the Dambusters.
It not only created my love for the UK, but also my interest in the RAF.

My fathers army chaplain: Richard Stoffels SJ, lived near us.
He was a dear family friend and when I married he visited not only my parents, but also my home often, until his death.
He taught me everything he knew about Veterans Care, expecting me to have an active role in the RAF. That I got a few children with special needs prevented this.

I wanted to become a parachutist, but my dad was firmly against it. He told me he jumped once and would never do it again.

To my surprise my second son told me many years later that he wanted to become a parachutist.
He now is one. Jumps with a round canopy commemoration jumps.

I joined his parachutist group as a volunteer and that was the start of meeting my now English friends. They invited us over to Remembrance Day and 50 years after my first visit to the UK I entered English soil again.

We are a small group now visiting Remembrance services in The Netherlands and the UK, some are part of a parachute group and jump at historical places, including Normandy.

Even though I am not working for the RAF, I support veterans with PTSD.

We have good friendships with veterans of the AAC.


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Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II has died today at Balmoral Castle.

End of the morning it was announced that she was placed under medical supervision because the doctors were concerned about her health.
She was comfortable, it was said.

That last sentence made us worry.
Especially when members of the family rushed to Balmoral.

Then it was announced she had died peacefully.

Only two days ago she received the new PM.
She looked extremely fragile, but her smile was as bright as ever.

So many years ago she promised to dedicate her whole life to being a Queen, and she did.

In a way she was always present. She was the Queen of many.
She was interested in people, prepared meetings well.
Her talents were that she was able to make people feel at ease under all circumstances, presidents or little children alike.
Sometimes it seemed she was a victim of protocol too. When she laughed when something went wrong, or tried to hide that sunny smile. Her humor radiated through.

It was interesting to see her change during her life. She wanted to learn, even when that meant changing in the eyes of the nation. Life was not always easy to her. Criticism was right around the corner. And oh boy, would people verbalize it!

But she changed from a kind of distant figure into someone who wanted to understand others and show care. Her body changed with it. The last years she was so with someone, that it looked like she forgot herself.

My father met her shortly during WW2. He admired her.
As a little girl I got interested in her because he spoke so positive about her.
I saw photos of her in uniform. She worked in the war 'like everyone else'.
That I was named after her (including spelling mistake: z>s) was even more interesting.

And now she is no more.
The papers, magazines, TV, internet...all the media are flooded with her photos and stories about her.
Many people mourn.

Including one of the veterans I spoke today.
"I fought for peace and freedom...like you always say.
But I also fought for my Queen.
And she was well worth fighting for."


Some say that being a queen was her job.
It wasn't.
It was her lifestyle,
her life,
her being.
Until the moment she died
she was The Queen.
May she rest in peace.



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