Through Hell and Beyond in a Boxcar

It was September 3rd, and raining bombs. The war was three days old now. German planes came over our city and unloaded their noisy cargo. They only managed to disturb the dead, by dropping their destruction on the cemetery and places of no consequence. Then the planes came down over the potato fields, mowing down women, children, and old men harvesting their crops. Fifteen days later, Russian troops, in their Mongolian hats, swarmed all over the city. Dad was killed twice at the front, according to two different eyewitnesses. He appeared three weeks later, unscathed, only to be arrested for being a soldier. He was considered an enemy of the state. The rest of us-myself, my nine-year-old sister, and my pregnant mom-the other 'enemies of the state,' were packed into the cattle train and sent to Siberia. Decimated by hunger and a typhus epidemic, some of us made our way through Iran to freedom. Serendipity manifested itself at every juncture of my life. Prodded by relatives and encouraged by friends, I decided to share this story. It is a small tribute to those who did not survive this journey. It is also a small tribute to Mom, who often jeopardized her life and endured never-ending hardship in order to bring us out of hell.