I made an application to the Belgium government, pleading my case. ‘I don’t know why you are putting me in a camp because I’m German. I’m not with the Nazis, I’ve never collaborated with the Nazis, but I ask your permission to perfect my French. I’m willing to teach the young people of your country mechanical engineering.’ They accepted and gave me an identity card which allowed me to take the train every day to Ghent, a beautiful old city in the Flemish region of Belgium, about 20 kilometres away from the camp, which meant I needed special permission to visit.
