The Eighty-Dollar Champion - Elizabeth Letts [31]
They prayed and lit candles, watched and waited, and after a few days, their prayers were answered. Jan opened his eyes and began to speak. It was a slow process, but he would eventually get better, making almost a full recovery. Jan had been a quick boy and good with his studies, but after the accident, he struggled in school. He was still good with the farmwork and the animals, but he was no longer able to learn the way he had.
Harry’s mother (left) with some of his twelve brothers and sisters. (illustration credits 7.3)
It had always been expected, by the entire family, that Harry, as the eldest son, would take over the farm. But Jan, like Harry, had always been interested in farming, and Harry could see that Jan was going to need it more than he did.
When Harry thought of leaving his homeland behind, he took strength from the idea of the American paratroopers he had met. They were cocksure and courageous. The young Dutch boys had flocked around them, eager to help them fight the Nazis any way they could.
Now the only soldiers left in St. Oedenrode were dead ones. The field where Harry used to practice his horseback riding had been turned into a graveyard—donated by Harry’s father to the Catholic church when its cemetery overflowed with war casualties. After the war, the village girls took it upon themselves to lovingly tend the fallen soldiers’ graves. A good student who had learned some English, Harry’s sister wrote letters to the families of some of the fallen American soldiers to let them know that their graves were being cared for. One of them, Nicky Schiltz, had come from a part of America they had never heard of—Greensboro, North Carolina. Neither Harry nor Johanna had met Nicky Schiltz when he was alive, but they had met other soldiers—young men who were friendly and brave. Nicholas Corbin Schiltz, a first lieutenant in the army’s 502nd Parachute Infantry Regiment, had been killed in action on September 18, 1944. Harry’s sister hoped that her letter would bring comfort to his family. She wanted them to know that his sacrifice had not been forgotten.
The St. Oedenrode riding club meeting on the field that the de Leyer family later donated to the church to expand its cemetery. Harry, age sixteen, is on foot on the far right. He had recently earned his riding instructor’s certificate. (illustration credits 7.4)
Ja, Harry would not mind moving to a place where people like that hailed from. He learned that Canada was accepting Dutch immigrants with agricultural backgrounds, so he applied for a visa and started saving every penny for his move. But shortly after Harry’s sister mentioned to the American family that Harry would be moving to Canada, a telegram arrived in St. Oedenrode. The Schiltz family would sponsor him to come to America.
There was only one thing left to do. Harry had been sweet on Johanna for years. Her brothers rode with Harry in the 4-H riding club. Johanna was a brown-haired beauty who loved the same things that Harry did—animals, and especially horses. Johanna’s sister had already immigrated to America, and when Harry talked about going there, Johanna’s eyes shone, as though she too could imagine the fields that stretched out as far as the horizon.
Now, in spite of the dirt, and the heat and humidity far greater than he had ever known, in spite of the rough cabin with the cracks in the walls, in spite of the hard hours of work between sunrise and sunset, Harry and Johanna attacked their new life with the vigor particular to those who have known hardship.
Harry did not mind fieldwork—he had been doing it all his life—but he missed taking care of the animals, and most of all, he missed the horses. He would never forget the flying sensation of jumping in a huge arena festooned with bunting and bursting with the sounds of a brass band. Those cherished memories helped him get through his days. Harry wiped his sweaty