by Marc H. Stevens
A true tale of escape, evasion and revenge
My father died in 1979, when I was 22 years old. We lived in Toronto, Canada, where I still live today.
As far as I knew, Dad had been born in Hanover, Germany to Christian parents – though that information was a highly-classified secret, and I was warned at an early age to tell no one. Since my mother was a French-Canadian Catholic, my older brother and I were raised in that faith. Dad spoke with a highly-cultured British accent, and passed himself off as an Englishman. The fact that he had served as an RAF bomber pilot only helped to reinforce that cover story. What I didn’t know, and only discovered in 1996, was that my father was Jewish. Continue reading