THE GREEN KING (part 11)
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The Photographer
from Salzburg
And his face
moved not only Settiniaz, who was the first to see him, but also all those who
were to see him thereafter. It wasn’t that he was that handsome – his features
lacked regularity – but he showed a dramatic, almost monstrous inner tension,
together with total quietness. In no way was it, in a camp where expressions of
death and hopelessness abounded, the face of someone who had given up. Mostly,
you noticed the eyes, pale grey with green specks, looking at men and objects
with a most impressive strength.
In the course
of the next few days, he slept almost continuously. Yet he was the cause of an
incident. A group of former prisoners came to Strachan to complain on behalf,
they claimed, of all their comrades: They refused to share quarters with a
‘pansy of SS’. The word they used was much harsher. This demand didn’t stir the
small red-headed major from New Mexico; he had other worries: the deaths
continued at Mauthausen, hundreds each day.
As far as the
boy was concerned, he told Settiniaz; ‘If not for you, I understand, he would
be dead. Take care of him.’
‘I don’t even
now his name.’
‘Your problem,’
answered Strachan in his high voice. From his point on, you figure it out.’
This took place
the morning of May 7. Settiniaz had the boy taken to the barracks where the
Kapos, whose fate had yet to be decided, were assembled. He reproached himself
for this. The very idea of attributing any wrongdoing to the young stranger
revolted him.
TO BE CONTINUED
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I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
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