The Assault Page #5

Is that what you think?

So we killed Ploeg.

- Does it make up for that then?

We knew at least one

house would be destroyed.

We picked your street

because it was quiet there.

If your parents were living there,

would you still have done it then?

Among those hostages did

was my youngest brother.

My mother knew about it.

She agreed with it.

You can still go and ask her.

She's still alive, she's 81.

You look as if it was my fault,

damnit. I was only twelve.

I was reading or something.

That it happened in front of your house,

was by mere coincidence.

It didn't happen in front of our house.

It happened at the neighbours' house.

They put him in front of our house.

A good neighbour is better

than a distant friend.

What kind of people were they?

A widower and his daughter.

A seaman.

I thank You. That can happen too of course,

giving coincidence a helping hand.

Should that be allowed?

Blame them.

No, I'm asking because my brother

wanted to put him back.

Or put him further away.

But then the police arrived.

What a fuss. Moving back

and forth a dead body.

What should have happened then?

- Bring him in.

Go figure. They would have heard shots

then, but they wouldn't find a thing.

What about the body?

- You should have buried it.

Or even better:
Eaten it.

Yes, eaten it.

Bake it with the neighbours and eat it.

It was hungry winter after all?

Don't you think that never happened

in the war. It all happened.

It's easy for you to say.

You were in a gang of thugs,

you thought about such things.

And I think you're still doing that.

But we were reading at the table...

and then suddenly we heard the shots.

- Then I would have thought of that too.

Anyhow,

there wouldn't have been time for that.

Although, first there were some arguments.

I'm gonna put him back.

- Peter, you're playing with your life.

Not me, you.

You're all crazy.

Retards, all of you.

So the Beumers lived here, you there,

Korteweg there and Aarts here. Right?

Right.

But where did that a**hole lay first then?

- Here, at Korteweg.

Why, of all places, did that seaman put

the body in front of your door...

and not there, at Aarts?

- I wondered about that too.

There must have been a reason for that.

Did he hate you?

- Not that I know of.

Rather the other neighbours.

And you never attempted to find

the reason why they did it?

It happened the way it happened

and that's the way it is.

Nothing can change what happened.

Understanding it won't help either.

Why do you still want that case clear?

Can't you live outside of the war?

Or do you regret it now?

I'd do it again if I had to.

But in front of your place...

Back then...

something happened.

Looking back, I wish it

wouldn't have happened.

Because of my family?

- No...

I'm sorry to say that to you.

Your family and those hostages

weren't the only victims.

There was someone else at the assault.

We were with the two of us.

Me...

and let's just say... my girlfriend.

What now?

How did she die?

Three weeks before the liberation

she was executed in the dunes.

She was buried at the honour cemetery.

Why do you take it to heart?

Because I know her.

I spoke with her.

I was in a cell with her that night.

Did she say who she was?

- No, but I'm sure of it.

Did she say she committed that assault?

- Neither.

But I'm sure it was her.

Then what did she look like, damnit?

- I don't know. It was as dark as pitch.

What did she say? You should at least remember something?

- I wish I did.

It's such a long time ago.

She was wounded.

Where?

- I don't know.

It must have been her.

When we went around the corner,

Ploeg still managed to hit her.

What was her name?

- Coster. Truus Coster.

There they are, those fools.

- Look, there's daddy.

Daddy.

Goodness. Are you crying here?

Come, let's eat somewhere.

- And no more talk about that war.

We prefer to go to the beach.

Will we eat in Amsterdam?

- I hope not.

With all the provo's of course? No, thanks.

This is where our ways part then.

Wait.

Bye, Gijs.

How do you feel now, boy?

- I'm fine, dad.

Gijs was tortured by the Gestapo.

He didn't give away a thing.

Now he's sitting next to you

and he's spilling the beans.

It cancels each other out.

What do you mean with that?

- I don't really know that myself either.

Keep a hold of yourself, boy.

That's the main thing.

Maybe it's a good thing

that you met Gijs today.

Apparently, sometime it has to come

up for all of us, our disease.

You don't look like you have

a problem with anything.

You go and have fun at the beach.

It's cold further on.

How do you feel?

Good... fine.

Let it go now.

I have, really.

What's wrong?

What's the problem?

- They're cutting up a jellyfish.

You stay here. We're going to do some

shopping at the village for a moment.

See you soon.

Have you read the newspaper?

on his conscience.

Seriously ill. Just wait

till he arrived in Germany.

A lot of people get sick for real when

they read messages like that.

But that Roman clique in

The Hague doesn't give a damn.

Because 'liebe Willy' has been

a Papist for years as well.

A forced reform in prison

saved him from the bullet.

Your parents came under him as well.

- Not under the present wreck.

Hand me that wreck and I'll cut off his

throat here and now. With a pocketknife.

It's still war. Right, Takes?

- Certainly, certainly.

It's what I live from.

A benefit from the Foundation '40-'45.

Founded by Mr. A. Hitler.

Cheers, doctor Steenwijk.

I've worked for your branch as well.

We killed traitors at

an anatomical institute.

Entire bathtubs full of guts,

noses, ears, d*cks.

All for education.

- What do you want, Takes? Initiate me?

I've had my share.

You know that better than anyone.

I want you to know

who you are dealing with.

Come.

Is it her?

It must be.

What did she say? Anything about me?

- I don't remember.

Try to remember, a**hole.

- I was twelve.

It was dark in the police office.

Which police office?

- Of Heemstede.

Heemstede? Jesus, we could

have gotten her out of there.

We thought they held her at Haarlem.

I remember she told a long

story about something.

You'd prefer to tie me up now and

beat it out of me, don't you?

Were you married?

I would have abandonded my wife and kids

for her without hesitating. But...

she said that I didn't

feel love for her.

That it was only feeling the excitement

of working for the resistance.

Long stories? She was good at that.

One time we discussed about taking

hostage the children of Seyss-lnquart.

She was against it. It was

fighting fascism with fascism.

She stayed late that night.

And it was so dark and so foggy...

that she got lost.

She sat at the street until

it was light again.

I think I dreamt about such thing once.

Compared to her I was a clodhopper,

although I was doing mathematics.

She was a philosopher.

Is that her pistol?

- That's her pistol.

Did she shoot Ploeg with that thing?

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