A woman (probably in her mid 20s) was in the upstairs of the Gallia County Farmhouse packing some things to go on a trip. When she was almost ready to leave, I realized she had packed a rather large box with my comic books to take with her. I didn't mind if she took most of the comic books, but there were some Marvel comics which I didn't want to lose. I knew the woman well, and I recalled that she once before had taken some of my comic books and hadn't returned them. I quickly brought that fact to her attention. I told her she could take the comic books, but I was going to make a list of the Marvel comics to make sure she brought them back.

I pulled one large comic out of the box and pointed out to her that it was a Marvel comic, and that I wanted it brought back. I pulled out a piece of paper and started to make a list. I pulled out an "Astonish" comic and wrote down its number. I realized this was an important comic because it was the issue in which Ant Man first turned into Giant Man. As I wrote down the numbers of a couple more comics, I realized it was necessary for the woman to leave now, and that I wouldn't have time to write down all the numbers. I stopped, abandoning the idea as futile, and decided to just let her take them without writing anything down.

***

The woman (who was now a boy about 12 years old) was on the trip. I was watching from an aerial view as the boy was climbing a mountain with other people. He came to an area where the mountain leveled off, and where piles of pure sand were gathered. Other people were already there, and they had covered themselves with the sand to keep warm. The boy also began piling sand over his body, intending to rest under the sand for a while.

***

I was now the person on the journey. I was being marched with other people to a line where Germans would determine whether I would be sent to a concentration camp. A girl (about 7 years old) was also in the line, and I knew her mother was one of the people deciding who went to the camp. When it came turn for the girl to be checked, her mother was standing nearby. I was surprised to see the girl picked to go to the camp, while her mother said nothing. I now realized the gravity of the situation. If the girl's mother couldn't even save her own daughter, I realized if I were picked to go to the camp, there would be no hope for me.

I stepped to the head of the line to be checked. I was holding some leaves of lettuce in my hand, and for some reason I thought the lettuce would identify me as an American and save me from the camp. But a young woman probably in her late teens stepped up, took the lettuce from me and threw it on the ground. This was the woman who would decide my fate, and by her action, I realized I was doomed.

***

Another fellow and I were walking through a snow-covered city street in Germany. We had managed to slip away from the line before we had been sent to a concentration camp. I now thought we had a chance of escaping completely, but I began to feel we were being followed. When we came to the front of a large department store, we separated. I stood to one side in front of a display window, and watched as he was arrested and taken away by some Germans. Some Germans then walked up to me and asked me some questions in German. I responded in the best German I could answer. They seemed satisfied with my response, and I thought at least for the moment I might be out of danger.