Saturday, July 17, 2010

Summary of the Book

by Dirk Van Doodewaard (1789-1875)

Previously soldier in the great army,
presently store keeper in Opheusden.

A book originally published by
Het Landbouwkundig Gesticht

Montfoort, The Netherlands
1855






translated by Chris A. Van Doodewaard (1942- ) in 2007

Dirk Van Dodewaerd (Van Doodewaard) born 20th September 1789 in Ochten, The Netherlands
Deceased 6th of March 1875 in Opheusden, The Netherlands.

1) Dirk Van Doodewaerd (Van Doodewaard) was the father of Anthonie Van Doodewaard born in 1824 in Wageningen.
2) Anthonie Van Doodewaard was the father of Gerardus Johannes Van Doodewaard born in 1854 in Pannerden
3) Gerardus Johannes Van Doodewaard was the father of Anne Antoon Johannes Van Doodewaard born in 1916 in Amsterdam
4) Anne Antoon Johannes Van Doodewaard was the father of
5)Christiaan Andries Van Doodewaard born in 1942 in Rotterdam.


A Prisoner of War

Short summary of the history of Dirk Van Doodewaard

The French ruled The Netherlands. It was 1810. Young men, who attained the age of 18 became eligible for military service, except if they would be released by lottery. Dirk Van Doodewaard was chosen to serve. He wasn’t worried about that. His only concern was that he would not go and serve in the navy, since he could not swim. He was, after his medical in Arnhem, assigned to the Army. In September of 1811 his long journey started, fighting for the French against the Russians. His group was sent to St. Omer. There training would take place, and from there they would march to Russia. Every soldier was trained to carry 30 kilos consisting of weapons, clothing, and food. The daily march quota was seven hours, with one day of rest after 5 days. A lot of practice was also included in the schedule. Discipline was very poor, and all soldiers plundered to their hearts content. Especially in Poland they ravaged the towns. Napoleons’ armies did not pay their soldiers. In all his years in the army Van Doodewaard was never paid one cent in wages. Soldiers made their living by plundering.

It became bitterly cold, the Russian winter was upon them with a vengeance. Many soldiers never got to see a Russian, but froze to death en route to the battlefield. The “borrowed” horses also did not last very long. They either froze or were eaten. The lively and hard types survived these conditions. And Dirk Van Doodewaard also belonged to this category. The meek and the soft did not survive. Those who were determined to survive, had to resort to crueler plunder. The survivors also learned to march at the head of the column. The Russians habitually attacked the vanguard, because they would make an encircling movement. At Smolkens, approaching Moscow, this also took place. Half of the company of which Van Doodewaard was part was liquidated. Being ahead they only noticed several days later that half the division was no longer there. They were not afraid of the regular Russian army. The Cossacs were the real enemy.
They were suddenly attacked and captured by a large band of Cossacs. The men were whipped and beaten until they were senseless. Then they were chased, herded, and whipped, for many days so that only the strongest would arrive in the prison camp.

On the way he saw long caravans of civilians who were ordered to evacuate their homes and cities for the nearing French army. When Van Doodewaard attempted to escape, he was whipped into unconsciousness.
A second escape attempt did succeed. With another escapee, a soldier from Koblenz, he ravaged the countryside for weeks on end. Slowly more fugitives banded together and stole and raided wherever they could. Closer to Moscow they saw the battlefields with thousands upon thousands of dead, both French and Russian. Since Napoleon was in Moscow he rejoined the French army. The usual way for the army to stay alive was to plunder. Since Moscow was practically empty of plunder, the armies needed to travel an ever greater swath around the city to obtain sustenance. Poor villagers…… Then again their group was captured by a band of Cossacs and farmers. They were again beaten terribly. Even though it was mid winter, Van Doodewaard, with his Koblenz friend managed to escape another time, and life resumed as pilferer and thief. Fresh snow had covered their tracks. When on another day, they set out for plunder again, their tracks were discovered and they were captured once again. However, they had been looting far to the south, where the population had not had any warfare occur. They were seen as common thieves, and per sled transported to Jaroslawa, where they were incarcerated. They were put to work, and were paid 12 cents per day for their labours, the first pay they had ever received since leaving France years ago. They also assisted in helping the authorities by whipping prisoners who needed punishment. Van Doodewaard was soon released for good behaviour, and took a job at a pharmacy as helper. When his employer noticed that he was an escaped prisoner of war, he was treated as such. Because there was nowhere to go, they enjoyed a measure of freedom. He learned to speak Russian fluently and lived like a Russian. He slept in a warm bed, and visited the sauna every week. After sometime, he became assistant to a captured French officer. He accompanied him to Saratow on the Wolga, which had a milder climate in the winter. When the officer had to return, he stayed and worked as worker in the harbour of Saratow.

After the war, when in 1814 there was a general amnesty, prisoners could return to their own counties. He really wanted to stay in Russia. When the last convoy was leaving, he decided to join them after all. The convoy consisted mostly of weak and sickly men who were being transported on wagons. They were escorted by Russian farmers, who maintained strict discipline. Arriving in Koningsbergen they were issued clean clothes. However, the treatment they received from the Germans was much worse than that of the Russians. The Germans used every opportunity for revenge. On boxing day 1814 Van Doodewaard, after a foot journey of five months, marched through Berlin. On the 20th of January 1815 he reached Arnhem. From there he was transported to a collecting camp in Amersfoort. There he met a Dutchman, who like himself, had been imprisoned in Jaroslawa. This man had just signed up to go to Indonesia. He tried to have Van Doodewaard also do the same. Van Doodewaard had had enough. He decided to walk to Tiel. Wearing the shoes he had worn since Jaroslawa he walked into his home town of Ochten. His arrival caused an uproar. They had been sure he was dead. The whole village ran out to meet him and to hear his experiences. He received a hero’s welcome.
(end of summary)

Saturday, June 2, 2007

The Great War of 1812, 1813 and 1814.

by Dirk Van Doodewaard (1789-1875)

Previously soldier in the great army,
presently store keeper in Opheusden.

A book originally published by
Het Landbouwkundig Gesticht

Montfoort, The Netherlands
1855

translated by C.A. Van Doodewaard (1942) in 2007


A Prisoner of War in Russia




With apprehension most young men in 1810 saw the fearful day of the lottery approaching. Most mothers of 18 year olds were very afraid their young son would have to serve in Napoleon’s army. This initial lottery forced the unknown upon these young lads. After some years, when some had returned home there was not this great panic the first lottery caused. And now that these wars are past, the lotteries only mean some years of military service, to be drilled, and to march in formation.

Back in 1810 you were plunged into a fierce war, and your chance of dying was very substantial. Myself, whether I was a bit superficial I don’t know, but the lottery did not bother me. I rather liked the idea of wearing a uniform, and fighting a war. Was I not chosen in the lottery, then I would just apply for conscription. I wanted to see the world, and Napoleon was offering me the chance. The lot made me, happily, a soldier. Now there was one danger I wanted to avoid: serving in the navy. I could not swim, and would certainly get seasick. If I would be joining the navy, I might as well stay in Ochten where I lived.

In Arnhem we received our medical examinations, and were positioned with Army or Navy. Happily I was stationed with the Army. In September we traveled over Den Bosch, Antwerp, Gent and Rijssel to St. Omer. We were very cheerful and even jolly. We had received liberal financial gifts from friend and family, and these were most helpful in maintaining good spirits.

In St. Omer we were dressed and drilled. Our instructors must have been amazed at our ignorance, since we did not now the difference between left and right. The main culprit here was that none of us spoke French, and all commands were issued in French.

Most excercises were held on the square, and in order to continue even by inclement weather, they also took place in the cellars. There seemed to be a haste in training, and word was circulating that something was up. Every day there were troops coming and going. It was rumoured that there were at least 1000 men at St. Omer. Most men were in camp Boulogne. I served in regiment 123 line infantry. In the morning I served as footsoldier, in the afternoon as canon attendant. Almost every one had a close friend from some different nationality. My first buddy was a Frenchman. His first question I did not understand, and he attempted to make me understand by rubbing his two thumbnails together. I thought he was trying to insult me.

Slowly I began to get used to the uniform. Our army meals in France were good. We received 7 ½ ounces of whole grain bread and 2 ½ ounces of meat in the soup. We seldom saw a somber face. When I was a bit sentimental about the long time I needed to serve, I would make sure I kept a cheerful face. I think the others were doing the same. And nothing is as contagious as cheerfulness or sadness. The poor comrades who had the misfortune of being sad just withered away and ended up buried. The replacements (those who were paid to take the place of another who had been chosen by lottery) had the worst time, and did not receive any consideration or esteem, and many never received the promised payment for being a “replacement”.

We were intent on having a good time, you should have heard us carrying on in the armory at St. Omer, most would have been envious of us, exercises, doing watch duty, polishing, each taking his turn to assist in the kitchen. With all our activities we sang and joked and played as much as we could.

After a month at St. Omer we left for Douay, where we also stayed for a month.
(to be continued.)