Yeah, '36 was really cutting it close. As I mentioned earlier, my dad's family left in '29-'30 because of the economy over there, and ironically landed smack in the middle of the Depression here. By '43 he was behind a Browning M1917 in Italy. Fortunately, a nasty case of trenchfoot got him sent stateside to West Point, where he was tapped as an interpreter to keep an eye on the POWs. I always found it odd that they would transfer prisoners there, of all places. Not exactly Gitmo...