ABSTRACT
In Dachau, I loaded my car with food. I had A y decided to drive to Coburg, and from there to Frankfurt, where I would board a plane for home. I didn’t know what the food situation might be in Coburg, but Dachau was a tourist town and well-stocked. I bought two smoked hams, yards of sausage, an assortment of canned goods, oranges, potatoes, five pounds of butter, several cabbages and a case of beer. Dachau to Coburg was about 180 miles, an easy drive through rolling hills and prosperous farm country. It was early evening when I pulled off the road alongside Berthe Baum’s house.
