As the sun rose on the morning of September 1, 1939, another Kindertransport passed across the border into Holland. Inside the train, Marla sat down and leaned her head back against the seat, closing her eyes. She barely slept during the Kindertransports. She spent most of the time praying that they would cross the border safely.
That night, a small boy of five sitting across the aisle sobbed. Marla opened her eyes and motioned to him. He tentatively walked to her.
She picked him up and cuddled him on her lap. “It’ll be okay,” she told him. “You’re going to a good place. I promise. It’ll all be over, soon.”
The boy sniffled, tears welling up in his eyes. “My Papa says it’s just starting.”
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