Any number of things can go wrong still, even if his papers look good, a little worn, even. They cost fifty marks. Carl was against it. He spoke of the law: “It’s just not right. Let’s go to the records office in Düsseldorf. Your birth certificate is bound to be there.” But he wanted to be Joe Klein, born in New York. He’s putting one over on Judge Byers, putting one over on America.

Because that’s the plan: South America is the first stop, then back to the USA.

Cursing and shoving on the train to Le Havre. After five hours they reach the port city—really more of a rubble-strewn wasteland on the English Channel. Sailors from all over the world loiter in the streets. The hotels are few and expensive. At the shipping company’s office he pays for passage to Dakar, with a short stop in Casablanca. The names fill him with excitement, as if what awaits him there is something wonderful, momentous, beautiful beyond belief. Africa!

That night he is still skulking around horrible Le Havre, past construction fences, mounds of rubble, and backhoes. Finally he gives in to the overtures of an old prostitute, pays a thousand francs just for the privilege of lying in her bed till morning. The woman could be his mother—he really does just want to sleep. In her tiny room the old woman slides toward him on the mattress, starts rubbing herself against him. He says wearily, “For all that money you could at least give me some peace.”

She laughs. “You and your comrades destroyed our city—that’s what you’re paying for, you pig.”

She figured out he was German too. Alarmed, he asks how.

“Your underwear’s got a German tag.”

“Were you a spy in the war?” he asks jokingly, and she says in the same tone, “Yes—for the Germans.”

He knows she’s telling the truth.

In the morning she wakes him by smacking him in the head. “Your time is up.” Out by the harbor there’s an old workhorse pulling a giant tree trunk. Josef can’t look away until finally the horse is out of sight. Giant white ocean liners are moored in the water, belching out black clouds of smoke. Again this feeling of happiness.

Before he boards the ship he buys Gitanes, chewing gum, and a postcard that he addresses to Carl:

You can send my luggage now like we discussed: general delivery, Buenos Aires. The next card will come from Casablanca in Africa!

Feeling proud, he tosses it into a mailbox.