The next day, in the morning, the men walked up to the embassy to register me and the boy for airlifting. The Indians left that very day. My mind was in pieces. That meant flying out with a handbag, documents, and a devastating load of pain. Leaving my husband to the mercy of fate was unbearable. I was not able to think straight. However, it happened.
On the third day from Sneider’s visit, in the morning, the iron gate of our building closed behind us. We started walking to the American embassy, uphill, on a shortcut among the buildings, to avoid the junction close to the beach, where the road was leading to the barracks. I was walking on thin air, mechanically moving my feet, not even sensing direction, just following my husband and Jimmy. I was holding my son’s hand...
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