Flory: Survival in the Valley of Death [NOOK Book]


In 1939, as the Nazi occupation grew from threat to reality, the Jewish population throughout Europe faced heart-wrenching decisions—to flee and lose their homes or to go into hiding, hoping against all odds to avoid the fate of being discovered. Holocaust survivor Flory A. Van Beek faced this terrible choice, and in this poignant testament of hope she takes us on her personal journey into one of history's darkest hours.

Only a teenage girl when the Nazis invaded her neutral ...

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Flory: Survival in the Valley of Death

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In 1939, as the Nazi occupation grew from threat to reality, the Jewish population throughout Europe faced heart-wrenching decisions—to flee and lose their homes or to go into hiding, hoping against all odds to avoid the fate of being discovered. Holocaust survivor Flory A. Van Beek faced this terrible choice, and in this poignant testament of hope she takes us on her personal journey into one of history's darkest hours.

Only a teenage girl when the Nazis invaded her neutral homeland of Holland, Flory watched the only life she had ever known disappear. Tearfully leaving her family, Flory tried to escape on the infamous SS Simon Bolivar passenger ship with Felix, the young Jewish man from Germany who would later become her husband. Their voyage brought not safety but more peril as their ship was blown up by Nazi planted mines, one of the first passenger ships destroyed by the Germans during World War II, sending nearly all of its passengers to a watery end. Miraculously, both Flory and Felix survived.

After recovering from their injuries in England, they returned to their homeland, overjoyed to be reunited with their families yet shocked to discover their beloved Holland a much-changed place. As the Nazi grip tightened, they were forced into hiding. Sheltered by compassionate strangers in confined quarters, cut off from the outside world and their relatives, they faced hunger and the stress of daily life shadowed by the ever-present threat of certain death. Yet they also discovered, with the remarkable and brave families who sacrificed their own safety to help keep Flory and Felix alive, a set of friends that remain as close as family to this day.

A tribute to family, faith, and the power of good in the face of disparate evil, this gripping account captures the terror of the Holocaust, the courage of those who risked their lives to protect their fellow compatriots, and the faith of those who, against all odds, managed to survive.

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Editorial Reviews

Carolyn See
It's an amazing account…a combination of heartbreak, terror, triumph and astonishing luck…Horror is real; the Nazis insisted on it, sponsored it even. But decency is real, too, and sometimes it prevails. This book bears witness to that.
—The Washington Post
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780061857089
  • Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
  • Publication date: 10/13/2009
  • Format: eBook
  • Pages: 256
  • Sales rank: 307,163
  • File size: 778 KB

Meet the Author

Flory A. Van Beek came to America in 1948 carrying a suitcase full of papers and photographs that she had buried while in hiding during the Holocaust. This material is now one of the largest collections from the Netherlands housed in the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, D.C. Flory and her husband, Felix, live in Newport Beach, California.

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Table of Contents

Note from the Author     vii
Acknowledgments     ix
The Early Years     1
Storm Clouds Rising     9
The Odyssey of the SS Simon Bolivar     21
Holland Invaded     43
The Persecution Begins     59
The Deportations     83
The Hiding Years     91
The Hiding Place     109
Fear, Our Companion     127
Working for the Resistance     137
A Night of Infamy     161
Miracles Do Happen     183
The Road to Freedom     199
The End of the Road     215
Epilogue     231

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First Chapter

A Miraculous Story of Survival

Chapter One

The Early Years

"You can take your skates along with you today," I heard my mother say as I was preparing for school.

My family lived in a small town in the Netherlands, the country of my birth. The town was called Amersfoort, located in the center of Holland. Amersfoort was quite picturesque, surrounded by many canals, old castles, and lush forests. In the winter, when the canals were frozen and the ice was strong, children could go to school on their ice skates, taking shortcuts and having lots of fun at the same time.

I was the youngest of four children, born of Jewish parents in the city of Rotterdam. My oldest brother, Jes (Ies), was nineteen years my senior. Then came my brother Ben, ten years older than I, followed by my sister, Elisabeth, who was nine years older. When I was very young my family lived in Rotterdam, close to my father's parents, sisters, and brothers. It was a large family. Many Sunday mornings when all of us assembled at my grandparents' home, we had to wait in line to pay our respects to my grandmother. My grandfather had passed away long before.

My mother was very beautiful; she had married my father when she was nineteen. She was soft-spoken, gentle, and an attentive listener. When I was five years old my father died in an accident, leaving my mother devastated. It was then that she decided to move to Amersfoort to be near her parents and siblings.

My mother's parents, my beloved grandparents Oma and Opa, were very religious and helped to raise me in the Orthodox Jewish fashion. When I turned six years old I began Hebrew schooland shortly thereafter learned to read Hebrew.

My school, called De Meisjes School, was an all-girls' school located on a plateau near an old castle. My teachers were quite strict; the headmistress especially was to be awed and feared. However, all who attended De Meisjes School received an excellent education, including learning the languages of our neighboring countries. In the fourth grade we started to learn French, followed by English in the fifth grade and German in the sixth grade. I disliked mathematics but loved languages, which were taught, as was the custom, by teachers from the countries where these languages were spoken.

I attended school each day from nine in the morning until noon and from two to four in the afternoon, with the exception of Wednesdays and Saturdays. On Wednesdays we attended school half a day, and I did not go to school on Saturdays, which was the Holy Sabbath. On the Sabbath I went with my grandfather, Opa, to the synagogue. This was an exciting event because afterward my sister and I went home to join my mother, grandmother, aunts, and uncles for a plentiful luncheon. We sang Hebrew songs of grace and enjoyed sweets, and I savored the feeling of safety and security with my family in this warm and loving atmosphere.

Opa was very handsome and dignified looking. On our way to the synagogue, people greeted him with reverence. One of my favorite memories from this time is my grandfather reading the daily newspaper aloud to my grandmother, whose eyes were not in good condition. The love they shared between them was enviable.

My birthday was celebrated on St. Nicolaas Day, December 5, although my real birthday is December 3. St. Nicolaas Day (in Dutch, Sinterklaas Dag) is always celebrated in Holland with much joy and fun and many surprises. Legend has it that St. Nicolaas arrives on a ship from Spain and, after disembarking, mounts a white horse. With his Moorish helpers, he visits schools and homes in the township. No matter what religion one observed, Sinterklaas Dag was celebrated by all.

So on this particular day, skating home, I was very much looking forward to Sinterklaas Dag, birthday presents, and my school's upcoming chorale presentation. However, as I approached my home, a funny feeling came over me that I couldn't explain. All through my life I would experience this feeling again and again as a warning of impending doom.

My mother greeted me at the door with tears streaming down her face. She took me in her arms, and as she held me my sister, who stood nearby, said, "Opa died."

"What do you mean?" I said. "Opa cannot die." But I had lost my beloved grandfather.

The funeral was attended by all who knew him: dignitaries, friends, family, neighbors. The mourning period lasted seven days, and during that time people would come in and out of my grandparents' house with food—especially egg dishes because eggs were regarded as the symbol of life.

After my grandfather died I watched my grandmother gradually deteriorate. Within a half year she too passed away.

After the death of my grandparents in Amersfoort, my mother became increasingly nervous. We ended up selling our house and moving to Amsterdam, where my brother Ben was living. It was a tremendous change for our family, moving from a small town to a big city. I was enrolled in the Joseph Israels H.B.S., a school named for the famous painter who lived from 1824 to 1911.

I soon adjusted to these changes and came to enjoy school. Music had always been very important in our family, and the schools of higher learning offered a fantastic program that included free musical concerts once or twice each month.

Before these concerts the principal violinist would visit our class to explain the repertoire. He would discuss the composers, the interpretation of the music, the instruments, the dynamics. When my class attended the concerts I would listen attentively, understanding and recognizing all I had learned from the principal violinist.

During these school years I spent my summer vacations with my oldest brother and his wife back in Amersfoort. My brother and his wife were a devoted couple but had no children. They lived in a modest home, which was a haven of warmth and coziness. They always catered to me and made my stay with them a happy time.

A Miraculous Story of Survival
. Copyright © by Flory Van Beek. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.
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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4
( 7 )
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Sort by: Showing 1 – 8 of 7 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted September 12, 2008

    Informative Only

    I read each and every Holocaust story, both fiction and nonfiction. Everyone's experience is vastly different and this one provided information about the Dutch. But to me, it was only informative, not a story. Told in very simple text, Flory documents events, but never goes deeper into personalities and emotions.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 24, 2012



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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 3, 2011

    Great story

    It is a little slow moving at first. However, it's another wonderful story of survival. Amazing that they were able to keep so many documents to help give such a real account of what they went through. I have been to Holland and have seen what beautiful people they are...it's really great to see how patriotic - not too mention Brave to help these families!

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  • Posted April 11, 2011

    A moving story.

    This is an inspiring book and another look into those horrible times and how heartbreaking and difficult they were for so many people. I have to ask myself, could I be as brave? We can't forget or let it happen again.

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  • Posted April 26, 2009

    more from this reviewer

    Quick read and informative.

    I have read several books on the holocaust and this one gave a point of view that I liked. She told what it was like to hide and know the enemy was just outside your door.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted November 30, 2013

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted January 22, 2010

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted May 30, 2012

    No text was provided for this review.

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