ABSTRACT
two days after our arrival in antwerp on New Year’s Day, 1939, Friedl had recovered enough from the physical and psychological trauma of our escape across the Green Frontier to drag herself out of bed, and we went to register with the police. Despite the assurances from the people at the Jewish Refugee Committee, I was still afraid that the Antwerp police might send us back to Germany. But they treated us with civility. Our illegal entry into the country notwithstanding, they issued us identity cards that allowed us to remain in Antwerp for the time being, provided we did not engage in business or accept gainful employment. I was proud of my Belgian identity card. It documented that I was not a nonperson. So we settled in for the wait for our British entry visas for which my father was going to apply in London. It turned out to be a long wait.
