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3 D Prologue d “There she is!” A muffled whisper at first, like the rustling of dry leaves, slowly swelled into an outburst of unrestrained joy on the deck of the Italia as the weather-beaten veteran of the seas finally neared her destination, the harbor of New York. “There she is, there she is!” we shouted. Yes, indeed, there she was, the magnificent Statue of Liberty, the endearing symbol of Freedom in the New World. Through the April early morning fog, faint outlines of the famous skyline of Manhattan had slowly begun to appear on the horizon. It drew closer and clearer, finally taking shape as the ship, now accompanied by tugboats, slowly navigated along the narrows between Brooklyn and Staten Island. During the afternoon preceding our arrival,the Italia,sailing under the flag of Panama and groaning with old age, had cast anchor on the open sea. A coastal vessel had appeared from which several United States immigration officers emerged to climb aboard our ancient carrier. They would subject the immigrants to one last thorough screening before allowing them to set foot on American soil. When the ship had begun its two-week journey from Hamburg,at least half of the passengers were emigrants, so-called Displaced Persons, from Eastern countries. At the Canadian port of Halifax, our first stop in the New World, most of them had gone ashore. Their reason for selecting Canada over the United States as a new homeland was a practical one; the Canadian authorities were far more liberal in their admission of foreigners, their vast territory desperately needing laborers in nearly all occupations. Although I had recuperated from near-constant seasickness, I barely felt up to facing what seemed to be a final grilling by authorities of the nation I had chosen as a permanent home.Was I really and irrevocably going to be admitted, or would they find a reason to reject me and send me back? To my relief, the two immigration officials seemed sufficiently satisfied with my solemn promise neither to assassinate the president nor to prostitute myself in any way. I swore not to become a burden to the nation graciously opening its doors to me, a refugee whose financial means were, at best, limited. There were few promises I would not have made, just so long as they enabled me to regain firm ground under my feet. ParT one 4 Like almost all of my fellow passengers,I traveled with light luggage,the lightest item by far being my wallet, which contained twenty-two dollars as my“starting capital.”However, there was one truly valuable treasure that I carried with me,my command of the English language ,which would put me far ahead of the vast majority of newcomers toAmerica’s shores. On the evening before our arrival in New York, I had packed my two shabby suitcases and actually managed to sleep fitfully for a few hours until, at the break of dawn, I went to join the crowd already gathered on deck. My heart was pounding. Could this be true? Was I really going to arrive in the land of my dreams, America? “When all of this is over,promise me that you will go and find your luck under another star, so you and your children can live in freedom.” How could I forget my father’s pleading voice in these powerful words, which had haunted me ever since he spoke them during our final conversation, a few days before the ill-fated attempt to assassinate Hitler on July 20, 1944, before my father was taken away to a place from which there would be no return? How relieved he would be to know that his only daughter was about to find not just one new star, but indeed forty-eight of them, every one welcoming her to a brand new world, a brand new life. Rising from the water, out of the morning mist, on our left side the gigantic lady, the Statue of Liberty, had appeared amid the shouts of “There she is!”So it was not a dream; it was true, I was about to arrive in America, and I saw no reason to hold back the tears that were long overdue. Next to me stood a young family, obviously from Eastern Europe. The black-bearded father held his small boy firmly by the hand, their skullcaps and long curls over the ears identifying them as pious Jews. The mother, a...

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