(03/26/97)["Hiding in a closet."] I am walking down a road with many people. These are my French friends and they are fleeing the enemy. I am a photographer, with a tiny camera. Other people hand me their tiny cameras and ask me to take pictures of them. I look to see where the on button is and so on. I take a number of photos. Then we are rounding a corner when I look back up the road and see the enemy soldiers coming after us. I race over to my friend and yell, they're coming. They begin to panic and run. In the confusion, I run and hide in a closet. My original intent was to hide the camera so the pictures would survive to tell the story but by the time I am in the closet, I hear the massacre outside and I say hidden, to save my life. I knew I could not save them. After the Japanese soldiers leave, I go out and see all the dead bodies. Two boys apparently survived, one is disabled. I take them with me as I sadly walk back to the gas station in France which my French friend had lived and worked. I am gathering up his papers to keep for remembrance sake. I find a scrapbook where my wedding announcement is pasted in it. It is hand written in calligraphy, like my birth announcement I made for one of my girls. It says Barb Anders. Then I see the partially obscured photo of a baby, which looks like Dovre's 6 month old picture. But it is the boy. I burst into intense grieving sobs and cry deeply. I am overwhelmed with my loss of my friend.