ABSTRACT
At dawn on February 9, 1939, my mother, my brother, and I arrived at Vienna’s Westbahnhof, nearly two hours ahead of time. The platform was empty, except for railroad workers checking parked trains, a few policemen in blue, and clusters of Wehrmacht in grey and green, trim SS personnel in black and SA in brown. I put on my most grown-up face and made believe I didn’t notice them—intent on hiding my fear.
