122 - Ik Schiet Beter

*Hey, Cher, there’s boxes here with your name on them.– Gator*

Friday afternoon, as Camille drove home with Mitch in the passenger seat, Gator called her to tell her that several boxes had arrived. She quickly apologized because she forgot to tell him that they were being sent to the clubhouse. After a few more questions, she had Mitch explain what happened with his history paper.

“So, what are all the boxes about?”

Camille laughed, “That’s his documentation for his new paper.”

“That’s a lot of documentation.”

She gave another laugh, “That’s just the things that can be confirmed. If you want to hear the story of my Oma Uittenbroek, we can come over tomorrow and go through it.”

“Hell, yeah, Cher! I want to hear this.”

“She’s the reason that my dad says all the women in the family are totally fucking insane. And the reason that Dom says she’s scared of me.”

“I’ve met that woman, I didn’t think anything scared her.”

“Not going to say that I actually do scare her, but I know my Oma did.”

They ended the call as Camille pulled into the driveway and looked at Mitch with his eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

“What did your Oma do?”

Grinning at him, she opened the door to the Jeep and started to slide out, “Just wait until tomorrow. Then you can learn what your Oma’s Oma did.”

The following morning, all three kids were ready to go when Camille and Darkness came down the stairs.

“Rosie said that she’ll have breakfast for us at the clubhouse,” Nicki said.

“Well, go load up,” Darkness suggested as Camille put her blue laptop in the backpack. “Vin, take your brother and sister.”

Securing her backpack, Camille called for Tink to go for a ride and the dog ran to the front door. For the first time in what felt like a really long time, Camille wrapped herself around her husband and they enjoyed a ride out to the clubhouse.

While he backed them into a parking spot, Camille ran her hands up his thighs, “I think we need to see exactly how soundproof the third floor is.”

Turning his head to capture her mouth with his, he grinned at her, “Screw that, I think the kids should have a sleepover with Zydeco.”

“That sounds even better.”

Walking inside, they were surprised to find the clubhouse filled with most of the brothers.

“Little girl,” Zydeco handed her a breakfast burrito, “we’ve all been waiting oh so patiently to hear about your Oma and the only thing that we keep hearing is, not today, this isn’t the time, and you won’t believe me. Well, today is the day, it is now the time, and we are ready to believe you.”

“You say that now,” she said sitting down and connecting her computer to the large screen TV. “Thanks, Rosie.”

“Anytime,” the club girl said as she sat a cup of decaf coffee next to Camille’s still wrapped and piping hot burrito.

“Okay, before we get to Oma, let me give you some background.”

The Saturday morning news show flicked off and the screen was filled with a black and white picture of a woman from the World War Two era.

“She’s kinda hot,” Peanut said. “Is that your Oma.”

“No, this is Jannetje Johanna Schaft, before the Nazi’s came, she was known as Jo. Afterwards, she became known as Hannie. She was known as the girl with red hair. She received the Righteous Among the Nations which is a high honor that Yad Vashem gives to people who helped the Jews during the Holocaust. She also received the Medal of Freedom.”

“Isn’t there a book by that name? *The Girl with Red Hair*?” Rosie asked.

Camille nodded, “Several actually. One of my favorites is by Buzzy Jackson. She based it on Hannie Schaft and stayed pretty accurate. Hannie is one of those people that you are like, that did not really happen. And then you find out, not only did it happen, but it was a lot more than you thought.”

“At the end of the book, she was executed,” Rosie said, and Camille grinned.

“You want to know about the quote.”

Rosie nodded as Camille looked up at her with an amused look.

“In the book by Theun de Vries is where it was originally cited and is believed to be creative licensing. But there is a debate over whether she said it, if she said anything, and over what she said.”

“Why?” Vin asked.

“The Nazis were notorious for their documentation. They kept track of everything and that ended up helping to condemn so many of them in Nuremburg. But they also were known to omit what they did not like and change the facts to match their narrative.”

She looked down and stroked Tink’s head that he laid in her lap, sensing her unease.

“What is known as fact is that yes, she was executed by firing squad. The first missed, not completely, but not enough to kill her. She was then killed by a machine gun. Now, keep in mind, the Nazis were very effective at killing and she was executed towards the end war. Late April of 45. Maybe more mid-April.”

Camille gave a small shake of her head as if she were trying to organize her thoughts. “For a member of the death squad to miss and then execute someone, a woman, at that, with a machine gun, leaves you to believe that something happened there. Especially that late in the war and the death squads being that effective. So, I think yes, there is a very distinct possibility that she did say it. Or at least something similar.”

“What did she say?” Mitch asked.

“The quote that is believed to have been said is *Ik zal schoon en mooi sterven*,” she gave a small laugh at the look of confusion that Mitch gave. “It’s easier to say in English, ‘I’ll die clean and beautiful.’ But I can teach you how to say it phonetically, if you would like.”

He nodded and softly pleaded, “Please?”

“Absolutely,” she clicked a key, and the screen displayed a picture of a small pistol in a glass case. “The most common quote, and the one that I like better, is *Ik schiet beter*, or ‘I shoot better.’ Which is one hell of an insult to a Nazi death squad member.”

Laughter filled the room as they all imagined the Nazi being insulted in such a way by a young woman.

A new picture of a crowd standing in front of a large collection of flowers with several people saluting filled the TV screen.

“This is Hannie’s funeral. And that’s the royal family.”

“Like Queen Elizabeth?” Mitch asked.

“Queen Wilhelmina of the Netherlands,” Camilla grinned. “At the time, Elizabeth would have been a princess and she’s a distant cousin the king. Just about all the royals are related thanks to Victoria.”

Another picture of another woman from the same time period flicked onto the screen. She was looking off to the side and wore a black blazer and stark white shell underneath.

“Frieda Belinfante, my mom met Frieda. It was after her time with the philharmonic out in California. I don’t remember which one. She was also a lesbian.”

The screen changed to a young teenaged girl and a boy a few years younger. They were both skinny and their eyes were haunted. Both had blonde hair similar features.

In the background there were several battleships and a cruise liner. There were also lots of other children along with American and British soldiers. But there were very few other adults.

“Both of these women served with my Oma Uittenbroek and her brother in the Dutch Resistance.”