As soon as we arrived in Greece, Abigail got jumpy. “Are we going to see the temples?” she asked.

“No”
Klocia would say “We get in, hop on another train, and get out.” “Are we going to eat Greek food?” she
would ask. “No” Klocia would say “I already told you it’s just a pit stop.” Then she would ask “What's a
pit stop?” and Klocia would say “JUST SHUT UP ALREADY!” Then Abigail got angry. But she didn’t do
anything. She would just follow us around the station and pout.

Finally, after being tired of seeing Abigail act miserable, Damian finally did something to turn her mood
around. He tapped my arm and whispered in my ear. “There’s a restaurant right over there” he said,
pointing at a small restaurant in the corner of the station “maybe we can order something small to make
her stop pouting?” “Okay” I said. Then I turned around a said “were stopping for a lunch break” and
walked over to the small restaurant. Now it was Klocia’s turn to pout.

“Oh come on!” Klocia said as she followed us in “Must we stop?” “Yes” Damian, Abigail, and I said in
unison. Then we walked in and the server showed us a seat. We sat down and took off our coats. We
ordered some Tabbouleh, a type of Greek salad. We ate quickly since the next train to London was
leaving in fifteen minutes. After only about a minute we had finished our food. We grabbed our coats
and ran with our bags to the train.

When we arrived at the train we packed our bags under the train and got to our seats. A man walked by
offering newspapers but he walked right passed us so of course I had to get his attention.

“Hey!” I shouted “Excuse me, but sir, we wanted some too!” He turned and laughed when he saw us.
“So” he said, almost comically “You read the news?” “Yes sir” I said and Klocia nodded. “Really?” he
asked. “Yes” I said. Klocia looked clearly insulted by his comment. “Look sir” she said coldly “I just want
my paper. Now either you give it to me or…” “Or what?” said the man “You going to hit me with your
little, kiddy hands? Ain’t that sweet?” The people on the train chuckled. “That does it!” Klocia said as she
lunged at his face. I had to stop her. So I jumped in the way.

“You can’t just kill the man!” I said to her. “And why not?” she responded clearly angered that she didn’t
get to pummel him. “Yeah he’s a jerk, and yeah he’s pathetic but if we hurt him we may be kicked off
the train!” She sighed and started reading her newspaper. So I got to mine. ‘Monday, September 16,
1940’ was written on the top. Underneath that it said ‘175 Nazi Planes Down. RAF triumphs in biggest air
battles of War!’ What a stupid thing to write about! So I flipped threw and found something that caught
my interest. ‘New York City!’ It said ‘Come see the sights and live the life you always wanted!’

I quickly turned to Klocia. “Look!” I said “That’s where were going!” I said. “But we need a boat!” she
said “and boats cost a lot of money!” “Then we’ll find a job!” I said. We were going to New York even if
it’s the last thing I did, which it very well may be.

Klocia, Abigail and Damian slept but sadly I couldn’t and for more than one good reason. First I was
excited. I couldn’t wait to get to London, get a job, and leave for New York. Secondly, Abigail was lying
down on my lap and I couldn’t move in fear of waking her. Thirdly, Klocia snored, but not just any
regular snore, she snored LOUDLY. So I just decided to just sit there and read the paper.
‘Germans capture five generals and 20,000 men!’ said one report. ‘Sooner Hitler than Union Leftists, Mr.
Fadden Speaks His Mind’ said another. ‘Driving alone is like driving with Hitler! Get a driving buddy
today!’ said one. Oh what a pathetic thing is war. Then I flipped to the back page and found something
clearly interesting. ‘1940 Winter Olympic Games in Japan have been cancelled due to War.’ They
couldn’t! No! They just couldn’t cancel the games! Everybody looked forward to hearing the games on
the radio. It was devastating enough that the War destroyed everything but we can’t just let it destroy
tradition! Yet that’s exactly what it managed to do.

Sometime during my mental fit of anger, I must have dozed off. I awoke to the sound of Abigail singing.
I’d never heard her sing before. Her voice was almost angelic. The pitch was perfect and the way she
slurred the words just made it that much more melodic.

“I never knew you could sing” I said. Abigail blushed and looked away. “I’ve been singing since I can
remember” she said softly “I kind of stopped after arriving at Bullenhauser. It didn’t seem to be
appropriate to sing in a place that was so gloomy.” I agreed. Of all the places to sing, Bullenhauser was
not one of them. Singing in Bullenhauser was very controversial.

“You should sing more often” I said “You have a beautiful voice.” She wheezed and smiled. I had totally
forgotten about her tuberculosis. Although it seemed she was recovering you could never truly know
with these deadly diseases.

“Look” I said to Abigail “As soon as we stop in England were getting you to a doctor. Okay?” She nodded
then wheezed some more. “So you never got tumer… tuber… tuberculosis?” she asked. I shook my head
sadly. “Only you, Klocia and…” then I burst. All the emotion I had held back since Deangelo’s death came
back harder than ever. Now you may understand who’s name I was about to say.

I could not continue this way. I could continue knowing that Deangelo died to protect Abigail, Klocia,
Damian and I. A sad price to pay one might say. Not only was a lot for Deangelo but for me as well.

Abigail hugged me. “It’s okay” she whispered in my ear. No. It was not okay. It was a lot worse.

Well at least we arrived well. We hopped off the train and walked down the road to a trolley. We
hopped on with our luggage and sat down on the huge bench in the back. To many people we may look
like refugee children. Clutching all we had left in our large bags, we waited. Then the trolley arrived.
“Piccadilly!” the man shouted and we all hopped off.

We ran over to the church the nuns had told us about earlier, St. James church, 197 Piccadilly to be
exact. A tiny market stood in front of the church. Somehow the church wasn’t devastated by the air
raids. Even stranger was the fact that neither was the market. The tiny outdoor market was either not
bombed or rebuilt recently. Either way Abigail was excited.

“Can we buy something?” Abigail asked. “No” Klocia said “Look let’s just get to the church and stay safe.
Okay?” “Fine” said Abigail, her arms crossed tightly over her chest “be that way!”
We stepped up to the big wooden doors. “So do we knock?” Damian asked. “No!” Klocia said
sarcastically “We just stand out here in the pouring rain!” Strange, I hadn’t noticed it was raining until
Klocia mentioned it. “I just meant we should…” Damian started to say but Klocia shushed him. Then she
knocked on the door.

“Hello?” Klocia asked. No one answered, but you could hear footsteps. “Look” Klocia said “Just open the
stupid door!” That was it. I was sick and tired of Klocia so I pushed her out of the way. “Were just a
bunch of refugee kids!” I shouted “Please help us!” Then a nun opened the door just a crack and peeked
out. When she noticed we were just a few sopping wet kids, she let us in.

“Where are you from now?” the nun said. I limped into the room followed by Abigail and Damian. Of
course Klocia had run in as soon as the door was open. “BULLENHUSER!” shouted Abigail and Damian.
Then Abigail, Damian, the nun, and I laughed. But of course Klocia didn’t. She just stood there and rolled
her eyes.

“Well, if you will be boarding here with us, I must know your names!” the nun said. “I’m Nicci, this is
Abigail, Damian and…” Again I was cut off by Klocia. “I’m Klocia” she said angrily as if she wasn’t happy
to be warm and safe.

“I’m Sister Martha” said the nun “We have some rooms you can stay in upstairs.” So we walked upstairs
to the room and dropped all of our stuff on the bed. Same routine as the last church we had stayed in,
until it was destroyed.

So days became weeks and weeks became months. We had spent about two months at this church. Yes,
there were many threats of air raids but due to the church’s location we were never hit. Until one
faithful day we almost were.

Abigail, Damian and I were walking along. Down the winding path that led to the trolley stop. We were
going to pick up some groceries. A short list was in my hand. Eggs, Milk, Butter, Flour, Sugar, Coffee and
Carrots were all on the list. In my other hand I held the money, a £20 note.

As we strolled along we noticed something. It’s not that it was abnormal but it was just unexpected. A
British plane flew over head. But that wasn’t the strange part. What was truly strange was the fact that
it dropped a bomb. Now it’s not rare to see a plane or a plane drop a bomb but a plane dropping a bomb
on its own country was truly unexpected. So you clearly will not believe what happened next.