In Nice, we rented an apartment in a three story walk-up building on the west side of the city. I became fluent in French, but my circle of friends was mainly German Jewish refugee kids. We hung out on the Promenade des Anglais, the beachfront, which was where I flirted with flyboys from the RAF (Royal Air Force), who were based in southern France after the France and England went to war with Germany in September, 1939. Some of them were really gorgeous.

From Liege, we headed to Antwerp, a raucous port town near Holland with a large Jewish population. We would stay there for three months.

In Antwerp, we reconnected with Hilda, who, as noted, had left Germany earlier with her husband Herbert Peiser. He was a bad man, very greedy, and after we all got to New York he sued my mother in New York State Superior Court, claiming falsely that he had supported my mother and I while we were fleeing together with him and Hilda through France and Portugal and now we should pay him back. The charges were thrown out of court.

When we were ready to go, an official SS car came to pick us up at the door. Some SS officials did a nice business smuggling Jews to the border. We were placed in the back seat of the big black car together with a young Jewish man, who had also paid to be smuggled to the border. Two Gestapo men sat in the front seat. We were on a high-speed road that only official cars were authorized to use. We were sitting in the back, but sometimes the men in front would order us down on the floor.