On his thirty third birthday Nol narrowly escaped death. It was Sunday 23 February 1941 when he witnessed, from the window of his apartment, a raid to capture Jews: ‘The Germans blocked the bridge. They grabbed everybody.’ Fortunately, Nol had just returned home, when the Germans started to pick up Jewish men at random from the streets of Nol's neighbourhood. Hundreds were taken and carried off. Later Nol and Ter heard that the German action was a reprisal.

What had happened that warranted this retaliation?

Following the surrender of the Dutch army in May 1940 the expected pogroms failed to materialise, but the Germans did announce and implement anti-Jewish decrees. For example, in July 1940 Jews were removed from the air-raid defence service. More serious were their dismissals in business, broadcasting and the press. In addition, Jews were hard hit by some general measures. For instance, when ritual slaughter was outlawed. Or when German citizens in the Netherlands had to report at special alien registration offices. The common response of Jews to these measures at this stage was one of apprehension, but otherwise they were trying to carry on as usual and make the best of their lives, very much like the rest of the Dutch population.

This ‘wait and see’ attitude is understandable. From today's perspective it may seem as if the persecution of Jews in the Netherlands was stepped up in degrees – registration, segregation, isolation, deportation and extermination. However, until January 1942 the National Socialists did not execute a coherent plan for dealing with the Jews in Western Europe. The German authorities in the Netherlands took numerous measures, but for contemporaries there appeared to be little cohesion. The apparent lack of strategy was amplified by the competition between various service departments in the occupying forces and the Dutch National Socialists. This caused confusion among Jews, if not total incomprehension. It was therefore impossible for Ter and Nol to foretell the results of specific German actions and to judge in advance which reactions would have the best outcomes.

Nevertheless, the tide was rising. The first anti-Jewish measures were followed in October 1940 by the so-called Aryan declaration: public sector workers had to state in this document that they weren't Jewish.

The date of the wedding was 12 June 1940. Just over a month earlier German armies had invaded the Netherlands, which had remained neutral since war broke out in Europe in 1939. Despite the German occupation, Ter and Nol proceeded with their planned marriage. If you’d known Nol, you’d have expected an exuberant party, but we know nothing about the event. The couple look happy together on photos, but the atmosphere at the wedding was probably rather lethargic, because there was sadness, fear and insecurity in the couple's family and among their friends. This chapter introduces you to the main characters in this story and explains their trepidation.

Tertia Kolthoff was a quiet, pensive and sensitive woman, but she could be outspoken when she’d made up her mind. Talking about her family, she often mentioned ‘outside loos’, meaning that her people originated in the countryside where homes didn't yet have indoor toilet facilities. Her father, Eliazer, had been born in 1872 in Hoogeveen, a small town in the eastern province of Drenthe. He was the son of a local trader. Her mother, Cis, was half a year younger. She was the daughter of a grain merchant and cattle dealer from Vierlingsbeek, a village in the southern province of North Brabant. Eliazer and Cis had been married there in 1900, settled in Amsterdam and had three children.

Tertia was born on 5 January 1913, a late arrival, more than 10 years younger than her brothers Mark and Frits. The official Tertia became the everyday Ter. After the retirement of her father as chief accountant of a large general department store in 1937, Ter's parents moved from their flat in the Rubens Street in Amsterdam- South to a house in the Lemon Street of the well-to-do Fruit District of The Hague. They may have moved to The Hague because a brother of Cis, Fred van Oss – a retired magazine editor and publisher – lived there. By the time of the move, Ter had already left home and was training to become a nurse.

In December 1939 Ter had met her husband-to-be, Arnold Bueno de Mesquita, five years older, born on 23 February 1908.

The first deportation train left the Netherlands in the night of 14 to 15 July 1942. Its destination was Auschwitz. By September 1943, more than 93,000 Jews had been taken from the Netherlands. This figure rose to about 107,000 in September 1944. Only a few thousand survived. Most of the others were gassed in the extermination camps of Auschwitz and Sobibor, often on arrival after a gruelling train journey in locked goods wagons or cattle carriages that lasted several days. The remaining victims died quickly, mostly of hunger and disease in slave labour camps.

The German-Jewish friends of Nol and Ter belonged to the first group that was to be deported. In February 1942, the Jewish Council agreed with the planned transport of some 20,000 German and stateless Jews from the Netherlands to Poland. However, that wasn't enough for the Germans. At the end of June the Council was told that Dutch Jews would also be summoned for what was called Arbeitseinsatz (labour assignment) or the even more misleading Dutch term werkverruiming (increased employment) in eastern Europe.

The National Socialists were planning the deportation in regular – sometimes weekly – transports of thousands of people, spreading the uprooting over time. About a hundred of these transports were foreseen. The Zentralstelle in Amterdam-South sent out the deportation orders to each individual that was to be transported, first by mail, later the Dutch police delivered the notices. It was planned that those who were called up had to go to the office of the Zentralstelle to complete the required forms, and to hear when they would travel to the transit camp of Westerbork. However, sometimes they went straight from the Zentralstelle or another collection point to Westerbork or a different camp. From there they embarked on the journey to Poland.

This was a dark period for Nol and Ter. When the deportation from the Netherlands started, the news about the course of the war in general remained discouraging. The German armies had suffered a few military defeats, but they were still able to launch large-scale offensives. In the Soviet Union, the Germans withdrew from Moscow, but they continued the siege of Leningrad and were on the attack in Stalingrad.

It's easy to stand out in a flat country. And when that country is small and you’ve been noticed, hiding is hard. So, where could Ter and Nol go after they found the police on their trail in 1942?

On the eve of the Second World War, less than nine million people inhabited the Kingdom of the Netherlands on the western outskirts of the European continent, where the Rhine, Meuse and Scheldt flow into the North Sea. About a quarter of the land fell below sea level. Large stretches in the north and west had been reclaimed from river estuaries and sea inlets. They were surrounded with dykes and, despite occasional floods, protected by an ingenious polder system powered by windmills, steam engines and electrical pumps. Agriculture, notably cattle breeding and milk farming, dominated the green landscape, where countless rivers, canals and ditches cut through the soggy soil. Foremost among numerous lakes was the IJsselmeer that had been created in 1932 by the completion of a dam with a length of 32 kilometres between the provinces of North Holland and Friesland to separate the South Sea from the North Sea. The horizon was broken up by church steeples in towns and villages. Much of the urban wealth was founded on trade, including a share of the transatlantic slave trade, and exploitation of colonies, involving the subjection of their native population and application of slave labour.

For centuries Jews had lived in the Netherlands, and by 1939 they were becoming an integrated yet still distinctive part of Dutch society. In 1930, at the last official population count before the outbreak of war, 111,917 persons were registered as a member of a Jewish religious congregation. That was a comparatively small group, forming just over 1 per cent of the total Dutch population. In addition, at the time of the census on 31 December 1930 there were about 30,000 persons who weren't officially counted as Jews because they didn't belong to a Jewish congregation, but who can be regarded as Jews. The Jews formed a declining population segment. In 1920 the census had counted 115,223 Jews – about 3,000 more than in 1930.

This book set out to examine the personal circumstances and characteristics of Jews who fought the German occupation of the Netherlands from 1940 to 1945, opposed the National Socialist persecution of the Jews in this country and formed small Jewish resistance groups. It sought to answer the questions formulated by Tydor Baumel-Schwarz, summarised in the introduction, about specific personalities, shared identity traits and common worldviews. For that purpose, this book reviewed what caused Jews to resist, the moment and manner they chose to act, the results of these choices, what influenced their decisions and subsequent resistance work, and who took initiatives and drew in others.

The answers to these questions in this book are conditional and provisional. After all, it's only a case study, focused on a couple – Ter Kolthoff and Nol Bueno de Mesquita – and some of their friends. It's restricted to a limited number of individuals and groups, and there's much we still don't know or understand; so, more research remains to be conducted.

Nevertheless, in general it can be concluded that the invasion of the Netherlands in May 1940 and early German measures and actions immediately caused some Jews to resist. Their resistance usually grew from their pre-1940 activity and opposition of National Socialism, occasionally after they had fled from Germany to escape political and anti-Jewish persecution but maintained a strong desire to act against the National Socialists. Further German measures, specifically aimed at Jews, and the violent acts of Dutch National Socialists against Jews during the first two years of occupation brought about the incidence of different forms of Jewish resistance. The German segregation decrees of 1941, such as the registration order, also caused first steps towards resistance. After that, German terror and the National Socialist preparation for and the deportation of Jews from the Netherlands increased Jewish resistance.

The way in which Jews acted differed greatly. There was no such thing as ‘the Jewish resistance’, that is, an ideological movement, membership organisation or common strategy. Sometimes people who happened to be Jews opposed National Socialism, sometimes Jews resisted specific German measures. Often, individuals, small groups and loose networks conducted different forms of resistance at the same time.

This book aims to increase our knowledge and deepen the understanding of Jewish resistance to the Holocaust by examining personal circumstances and characteristics of Jewish resistance members and the formation of small Jewish resistance groups. It treats the term ‘Jewish resistance’ the same as ‘resistance by Jews’ and ‘participation of Jews in resistance’. To determine who can be regarded as a Jew, this book uses a description formulated by Alderman, who has defined as Jewish any person who considered or considers themselves to be Jewish, or who was or is regarded as such by their contemporaries. What consists of resistance is discussed below.

A long historiography of Jewish resistance precedes this book, stretching back to the first years after the Second World War. The scope of this book doesn't allow a review of that vast and evolving body of work or to mention all pioneering authors. Instead, a selection is made of writers who have provided broad and inclusive definitions of Jewish resistance, which are applied in this book, or who have offered new outlooks on Jewish resistance in Western Europe, such as attention for integration and gender issues, which also figure here, or who have dealt with Jewish resistance in the Netherlands, where the couple in the subtitle of this book lived.

Dinur and Friedman have been early proponents of a broad definition of Jewish resistance. Robinson, Suhl and Steinberg have also formulated such descriptions, which were further discussed after the 1968 Yad Vashem conference on Jewish resistance. One of the historians who have more recently coined definitions of Jewish resistance is Bauer, who has described Jewish resistance as group or individual actions consciously taken by Jews in opposition to known or surmised laws, actions or intentions directed against the Jews by the National Socialists and their supporters.

Michman and Marrus have shown how this resistance incorporated various forms and was conducted on different levels. Michman has argued that Jewish resistance encompassed three broad categories: armed, conscious and committed resistance, such as ghetto uprisings; non-violent resistance that was active, organised, committed and conscious, such as rescue efforts; and nonviolent resistance that was unorganised and intuitive, such as self-preservation and the sanctification of life.

He raced up the stairs. Blond curls messy as always. The grooves in his otherwise young face had long been deep, but now Krijn Breur looked extremely worried. And agitated. Bursting into the first floor flat, he shouted: ‘Nol, you need to get out of here. At once. We’ve been betrayed.’ That last word wasn't lost on Nol Bueno de Mesquita. A bit older, wearing spectacles and with wavy dark hair, Nol had always feared betrayal, but it took time to grasp the first part of Krijn's message. Get out, yes. But how?

Two and a half years earlier German armies had occupied the Netherlands, where Nol had married Ter Kolthoff in June 1940, barely a month after the invasion. When a friend had asked the Jewish couple that summer to ‘do something against these rotters’, they had joined resistance groups. The consequences of that step overtook them in 1942. The German police and their Dutch helpers were hunting Krijn and his fellow resistance fighters. The trail led to Nol and Ter's flat on an Amsterdam canal, just outside the old Jewish neighbourhood. Their daughter Ruth was only one and a half years old and Ter suspected being pregnant again. It was getting cold; the winter frost was about to descend. Days were shortening. The evening curfew made it dangerous to go out at night. Actually, it was just as unsafe in daylight. There were roadblocks, raids and round ups. The deportation of Jews from the Netherlands was in full swing. Was it possible to escape? And if so, where could they go?

They got away, because I met Nol in 1985, 40 years after the end of the Second World War. Although ageing and balding, he strongly resembled the man he had been in 1942. As he told me his story, Nol was serious, but occasionally his eyes betrayed a streak of mischief.

The reason for meeting Nol was to ask him about his wartime experience. At the time I was studying history at the University of Amsterdam, following a few years of journalistic work, and I earned a living for my young family by working as a freelance reporter.

Ruth, the first daughter of Nol and Ter, was born on 2 April 1941 in The Hague. We don't know why they gave her this Hebrew name, meaning friend, or why Ter went to The Hague for the delivery. The name suggests they were looking forward with joy to the child's arrival. There may have been various reasons why Ter left Amsterdam for the birth. Perhaps there was too much unrest in the capital. Ter's mother lived in The Hague and maybe Ter wanted her to be present at the delivery. Before the war, Ter had probably worked for a short while in this city as a nurse. She may have known a clinic or midwife who could assist with the birth. In any case, Ter and Ruth stayed for 10 days in The Hague, after which they came to the apartment on the Nieuwe Herengracht in Amsterdam.

Just as the wedding, the birth was an occasion that usually makes people happy, but now it took place at a moment which otherwise offered little to celebrate. The German armed forces consolidated their success in Western Europe, despite the setback in the Battle of Britain. In South-East Europe their armies overran the Balkan and Greece. Germany and the Soviet Union still maintained their pact, which gave Hitler a free hand in the west and Poland and presented Stalin with the chance to occupy the Baltic states and the eastern part of Poland. The pact didn't come to an end until the Germans attacked the Soviets in June 1941. In December of that year, the United States of America was drawn into the war.

In the Netherlands, the Germans pressed ahead with the separation and isolation of the Jews from the rest of the population. The measures that were aimed to accomplish segregation, usually announced by the Jewish Council, were increasingly accompanied by razzias. These raids created fear and ensured widespread obedience. The Oosteinde Home became a part of the Council machine. The Oosteinde group member Max Rubinstein, for example, was appointed as youth leader, a low-paid position, but as we shall see, it offered advantages to the resistance group.

The German occupation of the Netherlands lasted until well into 1945. Following Allied offensives after D-Day in June 1944, part of the country in the south was liberated by the Allies in the autumn of 1944, followed by the east in 1945, but the provinces of North and South Holland and Utrecht, including main cities such as Amsterdam, remained occupied by the German army until it surrendered on 5 May 1945. The occupied area became an isolated German fortress.

During the final years of the war, the survivors of the groups of Nol and Ter had to remain in hiding. Ter called this ‘deep in hiding’. What the group members were thinking and doing during these two years was worded by Rosey Pool in New Year's Day 1943– 1944:

There was sadness about loved ones, family members and friends who had been killed, arrested or deported and had already died. In The Shadow Rosey wrote about her mother:

Survival became increasingly difficult. There was a growing food shortage, with biting hunger, and it was deadly during the last winter months. There was bitter coldness, because fuel was no longer available. There was constant dread about detection, betrayal, punishment and transport. There was loneliness. A seemingly never-ending nightmare, wrote Rosey in Awakening: