Night
May 10, 1940

During the pre-dawn hours of this historic day, our widowed aunt Alma, another sister of our father's, who had fled her home in Boppard-on-the-Rhine, ran screaming thru the house; having misplaced her dentures, she was not intelligible. In short order, it became obvious that her distress had been due to our being under attack by German Stuka dive-bombers.

Ernst and I were travel-ready in a jiffy, as our father had taught us to pack our backpacks every night "just in case."

As we stood in front of the Wolf-Moritz house on the "rue des Prés" in Esch sur Alzette, we noticed that most locals did not seem to have any intention of fleeing; they stood in their doorways and commented on those two sweet little refugee kids with their cute back packs.

Later, they were also forced to evacuate this border town.