
                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: SUNDAY, May 7, 1995                   TAG: 9505080023
SECTION: CURRENT                    PAGE: NRV-6   EDITION: NEW RIVER VALLEY 
SOURCE: WYBE KROONTJE
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Medium

AN 'INTERLUDE' BETWEEN WAR AND PEACE

In May 1945, during the last days of World War II, I was briefly with a group of American soldiers on the rapidly changing front line near Kimswerd, a very small village in the northern part of the Netherlands near the heavily fortified "Dike".

The soldiers were in an upbeat mood. There was a lot of banter and an atmosphere of camaraderie. The war was almost over - it would be a matter of days. They felt that they were survivors. Although I spoke English, they often spoke an English I did not understand. One time they offered me a slice of bread and an egg, and asked me if I wanted it "sunny side up or down"? I did not understand what the sun had to do with an egg.

Most of the time I said nothing. I was just listening and observing. For the first time I felt free. For five years I had been distrustful of "friend" and foe alike. I, too, was a survivor - there was a kinship.

And then the order came to attack. The atmosphere changed; a quiet fell over the group; it seemed so unreal - the war was almost over - it was only a matter of days. And then they filed out one behind the other - some stayed behind. I just lingered ...

After some hours, the rumble of firing ceased, and the soldiers came back. There was a jeep with pairs of feet sticking out. Although they were hardened soldiers, they were devastated. That this had to happen to them after all these years, at this time at this place; they had been together since the landing at Normandy. And then they vented their grief at me, against this God-forsaken place. One said, "I hope to God that you, the whole lot of you ... are worth it." Then this battle-hardened soldier wept for his fallen buddies. I said nothing, and just faded away. I was an outsider.

A few days later there was a parade; the population was jubilant; the shackles were off. I was alone among the crowd, thinking of the jeep with the fallen solders. I was the only one who knew of their grief, their loss; and always there was the question, "Would I, would all of us, survivors, be worthy of their sacrifice?" A question that would stay with me for decades to come.

Wybe Kroontje lived in the Netherlands during World War II. He moved to the U.S. after the war and taught at Virginia Tech from 1956 until he retired in 1987. He was the founding president and chairman of the board of Warm Hearth Village, a retirement community in Blacksburg where he and his wife live.

by CNB