Toulouse train station
April 1943. Scrounging for food in front of the Toulouse Station in the rain.


As soon as we alighted from the train at the Toulouse Railroad station, our escort bade us remain at the Station until further notice and disappeared.

The four of us kids did not stand out, as the place was mobbed all night by a multitude of travelers who were no doubt waiting for a morning train and had nowhere else to go.

With the girls, we joined the mob and spent the night at the Station—again without food. Wandering about the Station entrance in the rain, we came upon a vendor of sausages.

I recall the delicious aroma. We had no money and he did not take pity, despite our hangdog looks.

Obviously, a poor soul standing in the rain at night, with a couple of franks to sell, did not have much wealth to share.