The principal stood in the doorway of the classroom, his cane at the ready in his hand.  The students looked up, each terrified that he was there to call them out for punishment.  Silently the children scrolled through their past misdemeanors coming up with excuses, reasons or justifications.  The only two students in the class not participating in this activity were the two new Dutch boys, Harke and Harman.  Neither boy had met the principal and neither knew what time in his office meant. 

The teacher paused his speaking and looked to the principal expectantly.  Whatever his business was in his classroom, he was keen to get it sorted and get on with his day. 

Principal Adamson took a further step into the classroom and the boys in the front room averted their eyes away, hoping that if they didn’t look at him, he wouldn’t notice them and remember anything they may have been responsible for.  He didn’t look at the boys in the front row.  Instead, he walked toward the teacher’s desk, his face clearly displaying his displeasure.  He stopped and pointed at the two new Dutch boys and indicated with his finger pointing at them that they were to go outside, immediately! No English language skills were required for this directive, his body language alone conveyed the message.

There was a collective sigh around the classroom as all the students breathed with relief that it wasn’t them being singled out for a visit to his office.

Harke and Harman had only learned a handful of English words.  Hello, please, thank you and sorry.  Terrified of the principal and his angry face the boys instinctively held hands, finding comfort in their connection.  They were not brothers by blood, they were brothers by war, and their bond was the shared bond created by children who had suffered.  These two fragile little souls had only just arrived in Kingston a week ago. 

Little Groningen was the nickname of the growing Dutch community now calling Tasmania home.  An opportunity for an Architect in Tasmania was advertised in Groningen Holland, and Harry, completely disillusioned with post war Holland, decided to apply.  Although he enjoyed his job as a city planner for Groningen, he was aware that it would be decades before his home city recovered from war.  After years of enjoying tropical weather he felt oppressed by the freezing winters and the shoulder seasons of spring and autumn that were also regularly cold.   Harry wanted a brighter future for himself, and his family and he believed that Australia would provide this for them all. The war in Indonesia had left everyone in his family traumatized, four years of Japanese occupation, concentration camps, torture and the death of his beloved wife had left a deep scar.  He had hoped that Holland would welcome them with open arms and help to heal their pain, but Holland had been traumatized by Germany and there was no healing to be found there.

So, thinking about all the possibilities and opportunities Australia could provide for them, he applied for the position in Tasmania.  Three weeks later he received a letter to say he had been accepted and was requested to let the firm in Kingston know when he could begin.  

Harry set the wheels in motion immediately, he put his house on the market, handed in his resignation to the council, and began the process of organizing his family to immigrate. 

In August 1950 they were settled in a small cottage in Kingston, with crates for storage and bedrolls on the floor, their clothes stored in their suitcases, until furniture could be arranged.

Harry had five children in his care now, his own three and two extras Gerrie and Harman, both close in age to his youngest son Harke. He enrolled the three youngest children at the local primary school in Kingston, where he believed they would receive an excellent education and be treated very well.  Little did he know, their presence in this community was not welcomed by all.  

The Dutch immigrants were taking jobs that men in Tasmania were missing out on, they were a threat to the way of life in Australia and although they were known as being hardworking, they were still foreigners.

Harry had learned English in the Japanese internment camps in Indonesia. He had met Australians, English and Americans and by the time the war ended in late 1945 he had a reasonable confidence in the language.  His children did not, they had not had the same opportunities as him to mix with different cultural groups, so he was aware that all five children needed to learn English as fast as possible. To this end there were two primary rules enforced in the de Vries home.  1.  We do not speak of Indonesia.  2. We do not speak Dutch anymore.  Both rules were understood by all the children, but there was going to need to be a grace transition.  Communication using only English was impossible until at least some English had been learned.

As Harke and Harman walked hand in hand out of the classroom the children looking on knew exactly what their fate would be and they felt sorry for the new boys who were about to learn what Principal Adamson did in his office.  Once outside Principal Adamson pulled the boys hands apart roughly and with his cane under his arm he pulled the boys towards his office.  The way he pulled them, the anger on his face and the newness of everything had the two little boys shaking in their shoes. 

They stood with their faces downcast as Mr Adamson yelled at them in English, words that meant nothing to them but a tone of voice that could not be misunderstood.  In anger the Principal chastised the boys for holdings hands, for speaking Dutch and for breathing Australian air.  His personal racism coming to the fore as he took out on the boys his fear for what was going to become of Tasmania with the arrival of immigrants from Europe. 

Harke and Harman had no idea about any of this.  They were innocent children whose lives had started in Japanese internment camps.  They had relocated briefly to Holland, a foreign country to them, and now found themselves in Tasmania, another foreign country.  They spoke Dutch and Malay but not enough English yet to speak for themselves.

Whatever the last words were that he had said had made him especially angry and neither boy was ready for what would come next.   He yanked their hands out and placed them upright yelling at them to hold them still.  Then his cane came out from under his arm and in absolute horror the boys saw the cane come flying through the air making a woosh before it cracked onto their hands.  Both boys pulled their hands instinctively towards their bodies and held them whimpering with fear. 

These two little boys had been the witnesses to the brutality of the Japanese soldiers towards the women and children in their internment camps.  Now here they were in Australia on the receiving end of the same kind of treatment they had both seen first-hand through their childhood.  Their eyes welled with tears as the sting of the cane flooded their bodies with heat.  Principal Adamson yelled again and pulled their hands back into the position and whipped the cane back over his shoulder for another whack.  This time the pain of the second whack collided with the pain from the first whack and the boys could not hold back their fear any longer.  They cried out, both from the shock, the horror and the pain that hurt not just their hands but had cut deeply to their hearts.  What had they done that was so wrong? Why were they being punished and was this what happened at school every day?

As the boys tried to make sense of the principals actions, he yanked them by their shirts and pulled them back to their classroom where he made them stand at the front of the room in shame.  His voice came like thunder as he explained to the rest of the children that Harke and Harman were never to hold hands and were to only speak English. If any child heard them speaking Dutch they were to report it to him immediately, then he retreated, and the children saw the boys holding onto their sore hands and knew the pain that they were feeling.  No child in that schoolroom would be telling the principal anything about the two Dutch boys.  His cruelty was well known, and the children stood together as one to protect each other from his cane and his anger.

At the end of their first day of school with the sting of hurt still throbbing in their hands Harke and Harman walked home with a group of other children.  The road had no footpath and beside the road was a grass verge with long grass and roadside vegetation.  As Harke walked beside Harman he noticed something grey in the grass and leaned down to investigate.  To his horror the children started screaming at him and he stood and followed their lead as they all ran to the opposite side of the road.  Confused and with his heart pounding he looked at the children for an explanation.  “Snake! Snake!” they all yelled at him, pointing at the wriggling snake now winding its way along the side of the road.  Whatever Snake Snake was, it was something to be scared of, and Harman and Harke stayed on the opposite side of the road as they walked towards their cottage.  

When their Harry came home from work and asked the boys about their first day of school they hung their heads in shame, when he pressed them to talk Harman spoke for them both.  He described being called out of class, the beating and the angry principal. Harry was furious, the pulse in his throat started to beat prominently and his face turned red with rage.  He thumped his hand on the table and said “No one touches these boys, they have been through enough torture! How dare this brute hurt them, how dare he hit them. I will be there tomorrow to deliver the boys to school and I will give him a lesson in torture!"

The next morning the boys were escorted to school by Harry, he took them to the classroom and spoke to the teacher, neither boy knew the words their father was saying but the teacher looked apologetic and nodded as he spoke.  The boys stayed in the classroom with the teacher as their father went in search of the principal.