By the fifth day of the campaign, the Luftwaffe had largely ceased its attacks on the airfields in Zeeland. German commanders had concluded that these bases no longer posed a significant threat and were no longer of operational value. Since no substantial Allied air units appeared to have been redeployed to the Zeeland airfields, German air efforts were redirected towards more pressing objectives elsewhere.
One issue, however, resurfaced on this fifth day of the war: the possible evacuation of the remaining air bases.
With Dutch resistance in most of the country having come to an end and the German advance steadily approaching Zeeland, the continued occupation of these installations became increasingly questionable. The military authorities were once again confronted with the dilemma of whether to maintain the airfields, despite their diminishing strategic value, or to evacuate personnel and resources before they fell into enemy hands.
The question reflected the broader uncertainty that now characterised the situation in Zeeland. While the province remained outside the terms of the Dutch capitulation, few could doubt that it would soon become the focus of German operations. Decisions concerning the future of the remaining military infrastructure therefore took on a new urgency
On 12 May, the deputy commander of Flushing Air Force Base had requested permission to evacuate the entire flying school to France. He argued that the training aircraft and personnel would be of greater value there than in the increasingly precarious situation in Zeeland. The request, however, was denied, as was addressed before.
One second lieutenant - himself a pilot under training and not yet fully qualified - refused to accept the decision. Deeply distrustful of his superiors, he openly criticised their judgment and found considerable support among fellow airmen. Accompanied by another officer of equal rank, he commandeered a vehicle and drove to the headquarters of Rear Admiral Van der Stad in Flushing.
Remarkably, the two young officers succeeded in convincing an influential staff officer that the evacuation should proceed. They returned carrying written orders authorising the base commander to evacuate the flying school. During the journey back, however, their driver overheard them accusing their immediate superiors of treason and deliberate sabotage. After dropping off the officers, the driver repeated these allegations to anyone willing to listen. Within a short time, rumours spread throughout the base that a major act of treachery was unfolding at Flushing Air Force Base.
The consequences were extraordinary. Amid the confusion, Dutch and French soldiers placed the base commander under arrest. Emboldened by the atmosphere of suspicion, the young lieutenant attempted to arrest one of his own superior officers. Bursting into the captain's office with pistol drawn, he confronted the officer directly. The episode ended almost as abruptly as it had begun. The captain calmly ordered the lieutenant to leave the room, whereupon the latter holstered his weapon and complied without further protest.
Meanwhile, the commander of the infantry detachment responsible for guarding the airfield learned of the arrest of the base commander. Realising the gravity of the situation, he quickly assembled a patrol and secured the captain's release, albeit that the situation had been contained in the meantime. Order was gradually restored, and the crisis was brought under control. The incident nevertheless demonstrated how rapidly rumours, fear, and uncertainty could undermine discipline during the chaotic final days of the campaign. A single unfounded story had been sufficient to trigger arrests, accusations of treason, and a near-collapse of authority.
Within two hours of the affair, the evacuation proceeded. The twenty-three aircraft of the flying school that remained airworthy departed for France, with all seats on board taken by flying personnel. Four had to make an emergency landing, nineteen successfully reached Berck-sur-Mer. The surviving aircraft were subsequently transferred via Chartres to Caen, where they arrived on 16 May.
The ground crews, together with approximately twenty soldiers from the airfield's guard detachment, followed a day later. Reaching Caen on 18 May, they joined the growing number of Dutch military personnel regrouping in France. Ultimately, all of these men- as well as three officers' wives who accompanied them - would succeed in reaching England and continue the war from abroad. Many would later fly in the Dutch RAF squadrons.
Also on 14 May, the four remaining Fokker C.XIV-W seaplanes stationed at Veere were ordered to evacuate to France. Whatever operational role they might have fulfilled during the five days of fighting in the Netherlands had effectively come to an end. The Royal Netherlands Navy's seaplane base at Veere, however, remained occupied and continued to function for the time being.
The aircraft successfully reached Cherbourg and were subsequently flown to England. There, the Dutch naval aviation authorities reorganised their surviving seaplane assets. With the exception of the modern Fokker T.VIII-W floatplanes - which would later serve with RAF No. 320 (Dutch) Squadron - the surviving Dutch naval seaplanes were dismantled, crated, and shipped to the Netherlands East Indies (NEI).
In the Far East, these aircraft were returned to operational service and took part in the campaign against Japan from December 1941 into March 1942, when the NEI Armed forces capitulated to Japan. Their contribution, however, was short-lived. During the three months defence of the Netherlands East Indies virtually all of these surviving seaplanes were lost in combat or destroyed during the Japanese advance.
Thus, many of the aircraft that had escaped destruction during the German invasion of the Netherlands ultimately met their fate on the opposite side of the world, in the final defence of the Dutch colonial possessions in Southeast Asia