Jan de Jonge

‘My Opa, my grandfather, was born on 9 September 1895 in Emmen in Holland.

On 25 June 1941, he was taken from his home and family by two police officers from Hengelo, by order of the German Sicherheitsdienst [the Nazi security service]. He was detained because he had a little metal box with name tags in it, which had not been destroyed. Tags bearing not only Opa’s name, but the names of other Hengelo citizens. My Opa was part of the resistance in his hometown of Hengelo. With Opa’s blood running through my veins, I am a lot like him: doing nothing is not an option.

After being detained in the Schoorl, Amersfoort and Vught camps, my Opa was taken to Dachau. This terrible train journey was his last ever.

On his arrival in Dachau on 26 May 1944, Opa received a number: 69278.

My Opa isn’t a number: he is a husband, a father, a brother, a brother-in-law, a cousin, a neighbour, a friend, a child to somebody. He is not a number.

Like many others, Opa had to work in the BMW factory. This factory was attached to a Dachau outdoor labour sub camp known as Dachau-Allach. Due to the camp’s terrible living conditions, many prisoners became very ill with typhus fever. My Opa was one of them.

He was sent back to Dachau on 2 February 1945, because he was arbeitsunfähig [signed off as sick]. Opa died on 7 March 1945.

On 29 April 1945, Dachau was liberated by American soldiers – bless them for that.

29 April… so close, yet too far for my Opa. He was buried on the Leitenberg, Dachau’s mass grave. He is buried there with about 7,400 other human beings.

I am happy and relieved that Opa’s body left that horrible camp. Eventually Opa was free.

I have a strong feeling that Opa died thinking, ‘Do my wife and children know where I am?’

By placing a plaque, we answered that question.

Yes, Opa, we know where you are.

A grave should never be anonymous.’

— Told by Daphne de Jonge, granddaughter of Jan de Jonge (1895–1945). Bath, United Kingdom, 3 January 2020.