Trautel groaned and stumbled dizzily back to her bed, fighting nausea as the ship rolled under her feet. In his nearby basket, her baby stirred. Felix was only five weeks old and had cried most of the night. He was quiet now, but she herself could not sleep. What lay ahead for her little one? “God, why are you leading us into the danger-ridden tropics? What sacrifices will be demanded of us?” She remembered the fear that had clutched her heart in Liverpool as she crossed the gangplank onto the ship, little Felix held tight in her arms. She felt that the fates of all of them were on a razor’s edge, suspended between life and death, heaven and earth. “Will I ever touch solid ground again? Will the demon of war let this big ship pass unscathed?” She pulled herself together. “Do not question, my soul, but trust. God is leading us out of a war-torn country. He will protect us and our children on the ocean and also in the strange land we are traveling to.”

Letters from three women describe fleeing Europe at the height of World War II.