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This Is What Anne Frank's Arrest Looked Like

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Rex Features

The summer of 1944 was full of raised hopes and broken hearts all across Europe. By August, the Americans and Russians were trudging toward Germany. Warsaw was in the throes of its bloody uprising. And in the heart of Amsterdam, within arm's reach of a busy canal street, Anne Frank hid with her parents, Otto and Edith, her sister Margot, the Van Pels family (Hermann, Auguste, and son Peter), and Fritz Pfeffer, waiting for the war to end. The Jews in hiding had withstood bombs, near-starvation, two break-in attempts, and the many privations of their helpers during over two years in hiding, and the suspense had begun to take its toll. They were pale and malnourished from life without sun, but they were alive.

Anne, 15 years old and the diarist of the house, had long since grown out of the schoolgirl clothes she took with her into what she called Het Achterhuis (the house behind). In hiding, she studied, argued with her mother, experienced her first kiss, and watched the huge chestnut tree in the back of the house bloom and die and bloom again.

Via TravelPod

At first, she was terrified the hiding place, in the back of her father's office, would be discovered. "Not being able to go outside upsets me more than I can say, and I'm terrified our hiding place will be discovered and that we'll be shot," she wrote in her diary in September 1942. "That, of course, is a fairly dismal prospect." But by August 1944, she had other worries. She was revising her old diary and reflecting on the new person she'd become. In her most recent diary entry, she wrote about her fear of vulnerability, that people would discover that beneath her cheeky exterior was a deeply serious, deeply emotional young woman. "...I can't keep that up," she wrote. "...Finally I twist my heart around again, so that the bad is on the outside and the good is on the inside and keep on trying to find a way of becoming what I would so like to be and what I could be, if ... there weren't any other people living in the world."

And then, on August 4, 1944, everything changed.

via Biography.com

August 4, 1944

[all times are approximate]

8am: Miep Gies goes upstairs to get the shopping list. Anne greets her cheerfully and asks if there's any news.

Before 11am: Somebody places an anonymous phone call to the Sicherheitsdienst (SD) office in Amsterdam, claiming there are Jews hiding at 263 Prinsengracht.

11am: A man in civilian clothing enters the office and points a revolver at Miep, Bep Voskuijl, and Johannes Kleiman, who are working in the front office. Plain-clothes Dutch policemen and a German officer in uniform arrive around the same time and force Victor Kugler to give them a tour of the building.

11:15am: Miep's husband, Jan, arrives to get his lunch. Miep gives him the lunch, some money, and several illegal ration cards and tells him something is wrong. He leaves quickly.


Via The Examiner

11:30am: Kleiman gives a distraught Bep his wallet and tells her to go to a pharmacist's office one street over, call his wife with the news, and disappear.

1:00pm: Kleiman is told to give the office keys to Miep. He tells her to keep out of it and she refuses, but follows his instructions to save what can be saved.

1:15pm: A Dutch policeman enters Miep's office and asks that a car be sent. The German officer, Karl Silberbauer, comes into the office and Miep realizes he has a Viennese accent (she is originally from Vienna). He confronts her and she remains calm until he threatens her husband, whom she defends.


Via The Holocaust Research Project

1:30pm: Miep hears the sound of the Franks, Van Pelses, and Pfeffer tramping down the stairs. "I could tell from their footsteps that they were coming down like beaten dogs," she writes. At the same time, Jan stands across the canal from the office with Kleiman's brother. Together, they watch their friends walking from the office door into a green truck. Each is carrying a small parcel. Though the truck drives within feet of them, Jan doesn't get a glimpse of their faces. The Franks are taken to SD headquarters along with their male protectors.

5:00pm: Bep and Jan return to the office. Together with Miep, they go into the hiding place, which has been looted and is in chaos. Miep notices Anne's diary strewn across the floor of her parents' bedroom. She picks it up, along with a shawl of Anne's and a compact of Mrs. Frank's.

Via Richard Ehrlich Photography

Though Kleiman and Kugler were released or escaped from prison, the Franks, Van Pelses, and Mr. Pfeffer were not so lucky. Though Miep and Jan begged and bargained for their freedom, they eventually went on to Westerbork, and from there to Auschwitz on the last transport to leave the Netherlands during the war. Starving, Anne died in March 1945 in the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp in Germany. Her father, Otto, was the family's only survivor.

Via The Anne Frank Trust UK

Thousands of Dutch citizens performed tiny acts of resistance during the war, from hiding Jewish friends to taking thousands of clandestine photographs to document the terror they saw outside their windows. Anne's arrest could have looked like this, or this (though there was only one armed officer on the scene).

Via Geheugen van Plan Zuid / The Memory of the Netherlands

That no photos of that terrifying August day exist could be a matter of fate as much as fear. Maybe a neighbor documented the event, but the evidence was lost to bombs or forgotten in a book. Maybe a photo of the Franks after the Secret Annex will emerge like this extraordinary video of a living, breathing Anne.

Or maybe Anne Frank's arrest was just another razzia (roundup) to the citizens of Amsterdam.

This post originally appeared in 2014.

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History
P.G. Wodehouse's Exile from England
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You don’t get more British than Jeeves and Wooster. The P.G. Wodehouse characters are practically synonymous with elevenses and Pimm’s. But in 1947, their creator left England for the U.S. and never looked back.

Pelham Grenville Wodehouse, better known as P.G., was living in northern France and working on his latest Jeeves and Wooster novel, Joy in the Morning, when the Nazis came knocking. They occupied his estate for a period of time before shipping him off to an internment camp in Germany, which he later said he found pretty pleasant:

“Everybody seems to think a German internment camp must be a sort of torture chamber. It was really perfectly normal and ordinary. The camp had an extraordinarily nice commander, and we did all sorts of things, you know. We played cricket, that sort of thing. Of course, I was writing all the time.”

Wodehouse was there for 11 months before being suddenly released to a hotel in Berlin where a man from the German foreign office named Werner Plack was waiting to meet him. Wodehouse was somewhat acquainted with Plack from a stint in Hollywood, so finding him waiting didn't seem out of the ordinary. Plack advised Wodehouse to use his time in the internment camp to his advantage, and suggested writing a radio series about his experiences to be broadcast in America.

As Plack probably suspected, Wodehouse’s natural writing style meant that his broadcasts were light-hearted affairs about playing cricket and writing novels, This didn’t sit too well with the British, who believed Wodehouse was trying to downplay the horrors of the war. The writer was shocked when MI5 subjected him to questioning about the “propaganda” he wrote for the Germans. "I thought that people, hearing the talks, would admire me for having kept cheerful under difficult conditions," he told them in 1944. "I would like to conclude by saying that I never had any intention of assisting the enemy and that I have suffered a great deal of mental pain as the result of my action."

Wodehouse's contemporary George Orwell came to his aid, penning a 1945 an essay called “In Defense of P.G. Wodehouse." Sadly, it didn’t do much to sway public opinion. Though MI5 ultimately decided not to prosecute, it seemed that British citizens had already made up their minds, with some bookstores and libraries even removing all Wodehouse material from their shelves. Seeing the writing on the wall, the author and his wife packed up all of their belongings and moved to New York in 1947. They never went back to England.

But that’s not to say Wodehouse didn’t want to. In 1973, at the age of 91, he expressed interest in returning. “I’d certainly like to, but at my age it’s awfully difficult to get a move on. But I’d like to go back for a visit in the spring. They all seem to want me to go back. The trouble is that I’ve never flown. I suppose that would solve everything."

Unfortunately, he died of a heart attack before he could make the trip. But the author bore no ill will toward his native country. When The Paris Review interviewed Wodehouse in 1973, they asked if he resented the way he was treated by the English. “Oh, no, no, no. Nothing of that sort. The whole thing seems to have blown over now,” he said.  He was right—the Queen bestowed Wodehouse with a knighthood two months before his death, showing that all was forgiven.

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Mata Hari: Famous Spy or Creative Storyteller?
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Nearly everyone has heard of Mata Hari, one of the most cunning and seductive spies of all-time. Except that statement isn't entirely true. Cunning and seductive, yes. Spy? Probably not. 

Margaretha Geertruida Zelle was the eldest daughter of a hat store owner who was quite wealthy thanks to some savvy oil investments.  When her mother died, her father remarried and shuffled his children off to various relatives. To escape, an 18-year-old Margaretha answered an ad in the paper that might have read something like this: "Dutch Colonial Army Captain Seeks Wife. Compatibility not important. Must not mind blatant infidelity or occasional beatings."

She had two children with Captain Rudolf MacLeod, but they did nothing to improve the marriage. He brazenly kept a mistress and a concubine; she moved in with another officer. Again, probably looking to escape her miserable existence, Margaretha spent her time in Java (where the family had relocated for Captain MacLeod's job) becoming part of the culture, learning all about the dance and even earning a dance name bestowed upon her by the locals—"Mata Hari," which meant "eye of the day" or "sun."

Her son died after being poisoned by an angry servant (so the MacLeods believed).

Margaretha divorced her husband, lost custody of her daughter and moved to Paris to start a new life for herself in 1903. Calling upon the dance skills she had learned in Java, the newly restyled Mata Hari became a performer, starting with the circus and eventually working her way up to exotic dancer. 

To make herself seem more mysterious and interesting, Mata Hari told people her mother was a Javanese princess who taught her everything she knew about the sacred religious dances she performed. The dances were almost entirely in the nude.

Thanks to her mostly-nude dancing and tantalizing background story, she was a hot commodity all over Europe. During WWI, this caught the attention of British Intelligence, who brought her in and demanded to know why she was constantly traipsing across the continent. Under interrogation, she apparently told them she was a spy for France—that she used her job as an exotic dancer to coerce German officers to give her information, which she then supplied back to French spymaster Georges Ladoux. No one could verify these claims and Mata Hari was released.

Not too long afterward, French intelligence intercepted messages that mentioned H-21, a spy who was performing remarkably well. Something in the messages reminded the French officers of Mata Hari's tale and they arrested her at her hotel in Paris on February 13, 1917, under suspicion of being a double agent.

Mata Hari repeatedly denied all involvement in any spying for either side. Her captors didn't believe her story, and perhaps wanting to make an example of her, sentenced her to death by firing squad. She was shot to death 100 years ago today, on October 15, 1917.

In 1985, one of her biographers convinced the French government to open their files on Mata Hari. He says the files contained not one shred of evidence that she was spying for anyone, let alone the enemy. Whether the story she originally told British intelligence was made up by them or by her to further her sophisticated and exotic background is anyone's guess. 

Or maybe she really was the ultimate spy and simply left no evidence in her wake.

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