"John Ringo - The Legacy of the Aldenata 7 - Watch On The Rhine" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ringo John)

tune.

It was whispered, by those who washed him and those who spoke with
the washers, that he had a tattooed number on his torso. They whispered
too of the scars, the burns, the puckermarks.

Everyday, rain or shine, bundled up or not as the weather dictated, the


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staff wheeled the old man out onto the nursing home's porch for a bit of
fresh air. This day, the fresh air was cold and heavy, laden with the
moisture of falling snow. What dreams or nightmares the cold snow
brought, none ever knewтАФthe old man never said.

At the front door to the home, a matron pointed towards the old man.
"There he is."

Another man, one of a pair, clad in the leather trench coat that marked
him as a member of the BundesnachrichtendiestтАФthe Federal
Information Service, Germany's CIAтАФanswered, "We shall take care of
him from here on out. You and your home need trouble yourselves no
further."

Unseen, the matron nodded. Alles war in Ordnung. All was in order.
Already the two men had turned their backs on her and focused their
attention fully on the old man. They walked up to him, one crouching
before the wheelchair, the other standing at the side.

The croucher, he in the trenchcoat, spoke softly. "Herr Gruppenf├╝hrer?
Gruppenf├╝hrer M├╝hlenkampf? I do not know if you can understand me.
But if you can, you are coming with us."

Some faint trace of recognition seemed to dawn in the old man's watery,
faded blue eyes.

"Aha," said trench coat. "You can understand me, can't you? Understand
your name and your old rank anyway. Very good. Can you understand
this, old man? Your country is calling for you again. We have need of
you, urgent need."

***
Berlin, Germany, 17 November 2004

And my, my don't those two seem urgent, mused the patron of the
Gasthaus nestled in an alley not far from where that patron lived. As was
his normal practice, the patron sat in a dim corner, nursing a beer. And