A Kid During WWII Wartime

My mother and I reminisced, at the beginning of this century, about my activities in the last nine months of the German occupation of the western Netherlands of World War II. It starts with the story of my sabotage of German army vehicles. That was in August 1944, I was 4 years old. My mother almost got a beating because of it, so I didn't do it again, despite the success. In the autumn, I stood in line for the soup kitchen. I'm not English, so I squeezed my way to the front between the long skirts. Later, I was allowed to go on a hunger tour, supposedly to get wood from the forest. The Germans wouldn't shoot a child for that. And I cursed a German who wanted to bother me. He didn't understand it, but he disappeared. And then the liberation! On the one hand, the traitors who were chased through the streets with a bald head; on the other hand, that Canadian with that cracker with red stuff. Delicious! I had never tasted anything so delicious. My mother told me that this was a jam. I was malnourished but survived.

This is a booklet containing four short stories.