Allardsoog: Where Light and Memory Meet

April 10, 2026, 1:33 PM

Today in Allardsoog, we gathered to reflect on the events that took place here 81 years ago. Students from grades 7 and 8 at Skoalle De Dúnwizer organized the annual commemoration at the Resistance Monument. It was a moving and heartfelt gathering with villagers, relatives of the victims, and other attendees.

Along the path through the woods leading to the memorial site, students stood with their handmade art projects. They told visitors about their theme: light and dark. Darkness represented war, violence, and evil, while light represented peace, hope, and the people who do good in difficult times. The projects made a big impression. And what was particularly special was that they tied in very well with the mayor’s speech, which also spoke of light versus darkness.

At the monument, the students recited poems and laid a wreath. Together, we paid tribute to the ten men who were killed here in April 1945. Mayor Andries Bouwman recounted how the village of Bakkeveen treated the victims with great Health respect in 1945. Villagers exhumed the bodies, washed and cared for them, and gave them a dignified farewell.
The coffins were decorated with white daffodils and currant blossoms—symbols of new beginnings and hope.

The mayor noted that there is still war and unrest in the world today. That is why it is important that we continue to look out for one another.
He explained that compassion is the answer to hatred and violence: caring for others, even if you don’t know them. Just as Bakkeveen did back then.

All the students were given a daffodil to take home. This flower serves as a reminder of the ten men, of this place, and of the power of humanity. The mayor said: this flower wilts, but the daffodil returns every spring. You see them in a vase on the table at home or growing by the roadside as you ride by on your bike. He added: take a moment then to think back on what happened to these men. It is a small gesture that helps us to keep remembering.

So that we do not forget. And so that we continue to work toward a future in which we take good care of one another.

Speech by the mayor

Commemoration at the Allardsoog Monument

Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,

“We now stand at this grave with great humility and deep emotion before those who were warriors—not with weapons, but with the spirit. Here lie those who were forced into conflict with the powers that have ruled us in recent years, because they believed in God and thus in a higher power; because, as artists, they could not live under the tyranny of the spirit; or because they fought for our Dutch independence. We will continue to remember them and will strive to live in their spirit and build the future.”

These words were spoken by my predecessor, Mayor Dr. H.G.W. van der Wielen, at the funeral of nine of these ten men in Bakkeveen. It must have been an impressive, solemn day—a day that has been etched deeply into the memory of Bakkeveen.

In preparation for this commemoration, I reread the special edition on the executions at Mandeveld in the journal of the Bakkeveen historical society, *Ald Bakkefean*. The description of the victims, the bizarre story of the first transport—including Schuringa’s escape and his subsequent return to Groningen. The second transport the following day, joined by Hendrik Werkman who was to take Schuringa’s place, and the eventual executions carried out by the extremely cruel police officer from Amsterdam, Pieter Schaap, who had joined the German SS during the war and took great pleasure in tracking down and torturing Jews and members of the resistance. He didn’t let the soldiers do the job; no, he personally shot them one by one. It’s impossible to imagine the level of aggression this man must have possessed. And as I read, I paused again at the realization that this eruption of violence could have taken place in my peaceful Opsterland.

What particularly moved me this year was the description of the exhumation and the funeral, as recorded by Theo Alberda, the head teacher’s son. In the report, we read how the village of Bakkeveen showed deep concern for these men. How the village retrieved the bodies from the ground, washed their clothes, tended to the bodies with all their wounds, and laid them to rest with dignity. I was struck by the description of the hall and the floral arrangements on the coffins. The hall was adorned with white daffodils and currant blossoms, and on the coffins, which were covered with red-white-blue flags, lay a floral arrangement of daffodils and larch branches. The dignity, reverence, and serenity that this image conveys are so respectful, so extraordinary. It is such a stark contrast to the violence, the chaos, and the screaming of what took place here just a few days earlier.

The daffodil and the cherry blossom, symbols of a new beginning, of new life. They are among the first flowers to bloom along the ditches or at the edge of the forest. They show us that winter is behind us and that so many beautiful things still await us.

And then I look at the world today. There I see war, so much discontent, so much brutality. I see stories and images of people who, just like 81 years ago, are being oppressed, locked up in prisons, murdered. I see peoples being driven from their homes, cities being wiped off the map. I see tyrants rising who, with their tough talk, fan the flames of hatred. I see a growing belief in the falsehoods presented to us and how we are discouraged from seeking the truth for ourselves.

But above all, I see forgetfulness. We have forgotten that we have already been through this misery once before. That the violence, the chaos, and the screams of what took place here in this very spot are now taking place in Ukraine, Lebanon, Gaza, Iran, Sudan, and many, many other places around the world.

We have forgotten how to care. Because that is the antidote to all evil: caring. The village of Bakkeveen cared. It did what it had to do. Caring for that other person, someone who, in this case, was a complete stranger to everyone in the village and was no longer even alive. They did it in silence and with dignity. Not a quick identification and reburial. No, they presented a completely opposite picture. Thousands of people lined up behind the flat carts carrying the coffins, containing the washed and cared-for bodies, topped with wreaths of daffodils and currant blossoms as signs of compassion and respect for the other and the sacrifice they made for our freedom.

Dear boys and girls, do you know what we humans find the hardest? Remembering things. We forget things so quickly. I’m sure you’ve all forgotten your lunchbox or lost your bike key at some point. But I want to help you never forget one thing again.

I’m giving each of you a daffodil.

This daffodil serves as a reminder of what happened here 81 years ago—of the ten men who were killed here. But it also serves as a reminder of the compassion shown by the village of Bakkeveen, of the respect the village demonstrated, and of the decision to let humanity prevail, especially when times were dark.

This daffodil will wilt. You’ll throw it away. But every spring, for the rest of your life, you’ll see daffodils along the roadside.

And I ask you:

Then think of this place.

To these men.

To this story.

And do as the village where you grew up does: be compassionate, Health others, regardless of whether you like them or not. That is the mission we are called upon to fulfill through this monument and the daffodil as a symbol of remembrance.

And ladies and gentlemen, that goes for all of us.

So that we do not forget. Or, to quote my predecessor, Mayor Van der Wielen:

“So that we may continue to remember them and strive to live in their spirit and build a better future.”

Thank you for your attention.