[...] our neighbors noisily vacated their homes on a warm summer night. Clad in their nightclothes, they milled about in the street, fearing more tremors. Many compared the previous year’s rumbles to the current shaking. No one seemed overly worried. Nevertheless, we all waited for daylight before returning to our homes.
     As night gave way to dawn, we heard new sounds.
     Suddenly, I noticed black dots high in the sky. I tugged Papa’s arm, pointing upward.
     “Look, Papa! I see three airplanes! Do you see them?”
     “Oh, yes, I see.” He watched the dots overhead. After some consideration, he added, “I hope they are our Soviet planes. If not, we’re in big trouble.”
     The neighbors speculated on the possibility of Soviet Air Force exercises or war engulfing our region. Without warning, a dogfight in the sky above us, machine guns blasting, grabbed my attention. , Although the airplanes flew at a lower altitude, we couldn’t identify friend or foe. I was thrilled to witness a dogfight, but my excitement turned to fear as I began to realize that Germany must have attacked us.
     Visibly shaken, Uncle Tolia, Mama’s younger brother, and his wife Sonia, approached us. Aunt Sonia breathed heavily from the exertion of hurrying from their house a block away.
     “Hitler attacked us!” declared Uncle Tolia. “We’re at war, I have no doubts.”
     Grandma, her youngest sister Tuba, her husband Benny, and their daughter Pesia, a year my senior, still huddled in the street. Pesia’s family lived in the house behind us, sharing our backyard.
     “I’m afraid you’re right.” Papa looked worried.
      A tremendous explosion occurred half an hour later. Black smoke billowed into the sky. The Soviet-built military airport, constructed between Beltz and the small town Alexandreny shortly after the Russians arrived in Bessarabia, belched smoke and ash, fouling our air even though far from town.