GRUBBENVORST, NETHERLANDS; NOVEMBER 25, 1944

Thunderous artillery explosions fired by the British army illuminated the night sky as I crawled on hands and knees on the road from Grubbenvorst to Sevenum. With my hands, I carefully checked the ground for mines planted by the Germans to impede the British advance. I inched toward the Allied lines less than a mile away, desperately trying to escape from the murderous Nazis.

Suddenly, I heard shouts of “Halt!” as several Nazi soldiers launched toward me from the side of the road. As I stood up, one of them grabbed my arm and demanded in German that I tell him who I was and where I was going.

A horrible thought flashed through my mind: After years of dangerous escapes, so close to liberation, would this be my end?