On a blazing hot summer day in Copper Springs, Arizona, the four of us stood in the church cemetery, staring solemnly at a headstone, each one of us lost in our memories of the person who lay before us. I was amazed at how powerful the connection had been for each one of us, with that cold body lying beneath the freshly dug grave. Two of us connected to it with a bond of love, two of us with a sense of responsibility.
I had arrived in America only seventeen months ago, and it seemed as if the entire purpose of my coming to Copper Springs pointed to this fateful moment. As if this was why I had been sent here in the first place.
Never, though, in my wildest imagination, could I have imagined the turn of events that occurred, especially in the last few months, which turned this town upside down. Copper Springs would never be the same.
This is the story of how I ended up in a dusty copper mining town in Arizona after a thrilling but dangerous stint with the Resistance Workers in Nazi Germany and how my journey took me to this gravesite.
And to the very heart of a family.