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‘On September 7 1944 we were moved to the prison on the Weteringschans, and I was put in the same cell as those sentenced to death. This was followed, four days later on September 11, by a transport to the concentration camp in Amersfoort, where I was selected for transport to Germany. Luckily, this transport did not take place. Shortly before New Year the prisoners, myself included, were moved to Wageningen where we were similarly put to work digging under the watchful eye of the Germans. As we approached Zevenaar the vehicles accompanying us were attacked from the air, fired on by British Spitfires. Unfortunately, a few people were killed. I made use of the confusion and escaped into a field. I hid for a few days by a farmer. Once, in Barneveld, I almost fell into German hands again during a raid by the Nazi secret police. Still, I finally arrived home in Hilversum on Good Friday and I decided it was necessary, until the eventual liberation, to build a hiding place. So I had been awa
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I heard a commotion and opened the door to my office to see what was going on. I saw four police officers. One was wearing a Gestapo uniform. 'Who's in charge here?', he snapped at me. I answered that I was. 'Let me see the rest of the building!' I showed him all the spaces. Then we went upstairs and stood on the landing by the bookcase. My heart was pounding. The three Dutch policemen were already busy trying to open the bookcase. The moment I had feared for years had arrived. One of the police officers pointed his gun at me and ordered me to go first. The others followed behind, also with their pistols drawn. The first person I saw was Mrs Frank. I whispered 'Gestapo' to her. She sat completely still and seemed to be in shock. The others were coming downstairs from the other floors. Margot was very upset, she was crying softly.
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