Leaving at 6:30 am from Lyon Brotteaux to Viry via Culoz. Arrival at 12 pm. There, half of them didn’t get off. I jump off the running train. The 2 passeurs tell us to hide in a grass field. Cops go by. At 1 p.m., the others who got off at St. Julien rejoin us. The column starts moving behind the passeurs. We are marching along a road. While no one could be seen on the road, at a sign from him we cross in double-time a grassy field and then a plowed field.
We see the railroad tracks. The barbed wires were already cut. No one on the tracks. We gallop across. Then we enter high grass and a small woods. There the 2 passeurs get lost; we run around in circles 3 times; then they find the way again. There is a young kid who’s screaming and the passeurs are upset. We go through a woods. We see the border. No Krauts, no French. He makes us lie flat on the ground. It rained and it’s not pleasant. My feet are soaking wet. They signal us. On the run we approach the barbed wires. We throw our back packs over the fence and we cross wherever feasible. A Swiss guard is watching us.
We cross at Sorral II. We are well received. An interrogation (the first one) begins. I pull out my real papers which were sewn into my jacket lining. A truck came to pick us up around 3 p.m. It drove us to Geneva to the Claparède “triage” camp.
Everybody along the road waved to us. There the interrogations start. We ate well. At 11 p.m. I take a shower and they inspect our scalp. Then I slept soundly in a free country.
