"My strongest memory of the square (Olympiaplein) dates back to 1943. It started with a ring of the door bell at our house in the Marathonweg. Soldiers or police men, I don't remember, but they were wearing a uniform. If there were any Jews in the house, they asked. There weren't.
That day I walked down the Marathonweg up to the Olympiaplein. There I saw many tram wagons waiting, line 24. All of a sudden I noticed in one of the trams two boys from my class at the Cornelis Kruseman school: Paul Duizend, he used to sit next to me in class, and his twin brother Harold. We waved to each other.
What was going to happen to them, I didn't know of course, but I had this feeling: this can't be right. My father felt the same. He worried about how he could keep his children save. We responded like all other families in those days: we caved in. We tried to continue our every day life as much as possible.
No, Paul and Harold Duizend never came back."