By pomponioxyz. I am afraid, madam, that you sin doubly. Not only do you presume to use the old titles but also you are a German. The woman was in her forties. She was haughty. Her cheekbones stood out, evidence of emaciation.
The events of the last few months had given her a feral, look. The colonel served himself a glass of vodka but did not offer the woman any.
The woman noticed that he was missing one hand. He did not believe the assurances that came from the gauletiers that your army would be stopped. He knew the war was lost. His division was destroyed at the Vistula. I heard he was captured and shot as a war criminal.
And he was a convalescent, colonel, he could barely walk. I am sure you understand what that means. He really did not have to return to his division. Yet he did.
I had to obey his instructions to the best of my ability. It was the least I could do. And you managed to make your way through our spearheads.
