30 January 1939

Father and I have been united once again! I am counting my lucky stars today.

Father met me right when I arrived in Spain; he looked haggard and so much older than I remember him looking. The combination of years of fighting with the stress of insecurity has taken its toll on my Dad. When I was in transit the Nationalists were surrounding Barcelona and I am lucky that Father had the day off! So many innocent lives have been snuffed out, but right now I am just so grateful that he is here. 

Father told me a long and treacherous tale of survival; he has been fighting a war in vain for so many years that his eyes no longer possess the hope of the dreaming man I once knew him to be. He is scared of the leader of the Nationalists, Francisco Franco. He sees in him the same motives as the evil men who seem to be taking over Europe now, and that worries him. I can only hope that he is wrong. 

During the night I hear Father crying out, and screaming orders to soldiers that I know are intruding his nightmares. I hear him yelling words that I cannot make out, but last night I distinctly heard the words, "No pasarán".  That is why I have made the decision that we are going to leave this place; I can't let him go back. He tells me that he does not know how he is still alive, that all statistics say he should be dead, being a member of the Republicans. He tells me of the Red Terror that broke out in Madrid, and of the strength and resistance the city displayed over those months. 

When I arrived in England all those years ago, Mr. Keynes (who must be quite an old man by now) provided me with some contacts that I might have use of. One of those contacts was Mr. Leon Blum. I have been in touch with him and he has agreed to protect Father and I for some time, until all of this dies down . . . if it ever does. Mr. Blum and I seem to share similar opinions, and I only hope that Father and I find refuge in the land of the French. If nothing else there will be good pastry. Do not expect to hear from me again, as I do not think I can afford to give away our exact location, to be on the safe side. From now on I am a leader in my family; I am protecting my Father and have been sending home Majahem money monthly. Perhaps one day he will join us in France. Thank God Auntie Mabel was so gracious in her death . . . without her, who would I be?

So long for now, faithful readers.