Unwanted: The Voyage of the St. Louis
The St. Louis receives no word back from the U.S. government, but the message is clear. As a gunboat escorts you out of the harbour, you feel empty.
You are sailing back to Europe.
Far away, a German newspaper gloats when they hear that the St. Louis is returning, defeated: “We say openly that we do not want the Jews, while the democracies keep claiming that they are willing to let them in - and then leave the guests out in the cold.”
Back on the boat, Ilse pats your arm. She's taken sick but refuses to be bedridden. She says she wants to be the first off the boat when you land in Canada.
They are your last chance. Schroeder doesn't think it likely that they offer a hand after America's frigid response, but some onboard still hold out hope.
You don't want to admit it, but so do you. You've always believed in humanity and goodness, and cannot accept that the world has tossed away these principles.
Someone will save you.
Someone must.
You are sailing back to Europe.
Far away, a German newspaper gloats when they hear that the St. Louis is returning, defeated: “We say openly that we do not want the Jews, while the democracies keep claiming that they are willing to let them in - and then leave the guests out in the cold.”
Back on the boat, Ilse pats your arm. She's taken sick but refuses to be bedridden. She says she wants to be the first off the boat when you land in Canada.
They are your last chance. Schroeder doesn't think it likely that they offer a hand after America's frigid response, but some onboard still hold out hope.
You don't want to admit it, but so do you. You've always believed in humanity and goodness, and cannot accept that the world has tossed away these principles.
Someone will save you.
Someone must.