The Second World War

The burly man lying face down in the sand may have well been dead.

KRAUSE 10. 1946 NUREMBERG It was blisteringly cold on the morning of October sixteenth in the south-eastern state of Bavaria. The Palace of Justice,...

On the afternoon of March twenty-sixth, the Hotel Adlon at number seventy-seven on the Unter den Linden, with its somewhat beige exterior and flat copper roof, became the scene of an abhorrent crime.

I've begun this diary to chronicle the events of my life after the War.

When Adelise Gèroux finished packing her life into a single brown suitcase she walked out onto her third-floor balcony to take in the evening air.

When the café on the corner first opened its doors in the August of 1923, Pierre Goddard and his father thought their clientele would consist mostly of businessmen. Twenty-one years later, his father long gone from polio, with shoulder-length grey hair in a bun, the physical manifestation of a man in a mid-life crisis, and a World War in full swing, it had become frequented by Nazis.

The smashed mirror of water became whole once more when the unshaven face emerged from its depths.

When the café on the corner first opened its doors in August 1923, Pierre Goddard and his father thought their clientele would consist mostly of businessmen.

Roger Farrier crossed the landing, unlocked the door marked 16A and stepped inside, twisting the lock behind him in the same movement.

The smashed mirror of water became whole when the unshaven face emerged from it.

For the most part, the sky was without clouds and made a most fitting setting for the end.