Much of my childhood, memories prevail in my mind. I remember every daunting occurrence that restricted or spoiled my youthful enjoyment. It could be, because my early upbringing in Germany was, during the worst of times in, the last century, the last World War. That wartime was so testing that a small child like me could mature faster to withstand the challenges of staying alive. I survived the brutal war in the caring hands of Mama as a refugee with hunger, sickness, and ever-changing natural hardships. My memories go back to my Papa, a high-ranking Nazi officer, who had no respect for his wife and his little girl; my brother, who was born a Hitler baby and whom Papa cherished, Irmgard, Mama's Jewish girlfriend that she, hid from the Nazi's, including from Papa; my loving Grandpa and his discomforting second wife, who lived on a beautiful farm bordering a green forest close, to where my aunt and cousins lived. The war fragmented us apart. I consider it a miracle to have lived and grown through that brutal war, surviving to tell the story to the present generation. My journey to America was, paved by the outcome of the war itself. Leaving my memories behind, I entered into a new world with my loving husband beside me. I thrived and climbed mountains to succeed to make all things possible. It made me become the person I am today.