I was born in Belgium in 1937. From the age of 4 until 8, I was away from my family with other Jews who were strangers to me. We seemed to float from place to place through Europe just a step ahead of the Nazis.
At one point, I ended up in France. Once of my aunts left me at a French convent with Father Bruno, who was also from Belgium. When the Nazis came too close to the convent I had to go back to Belgium.
I was then taken by a Jewish woman and her husband who pretended that I was their daughter, and they took me to Switzerland. This was arranged and paid for by my aunt. We took the train to Switzerland, but when we arrived, I ended up in a refugee camp, alone. Eventually I was sent to a foster home, to the home of a poor farming family. They treated me well and kept me safe until the end of the war.
My parents came to the United States first. They sent for us children later.