Date: Mon, 6 Sep 2004 12:53:27 -0400
From: carl5de@netscape.net
Subject: OUT OF THE RUBBLE - 19

OUT OF THE RUBBLE - 19

Copyright 2004 by Carl Mason

All rights reserved.  Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal
enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without
the written permission of the author.  Comments on the story are
appreciated and may be addressed to the author at carl5de@netscape.net.

This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between a young adult
male and young male teenagers.  Nevertheless, "Out of the Rubble" is
neither a strictly "suck and fuck" exercise nor is it a story that focuses
on the "love of adults for the young"...often without sex or with the mere
suggestion of sex.  If you are looking for these types of erotic fiction,
there are fine examples of each on Nifty.  Something slightly different is
required here.

However based on real events and places, "Out of the Rubble" is strictly
fictional.  Any resemblance to actual events, or locales, or persons,
living or dead, is entirely coincidental.  Further, this is homoerotic
fiction designed for the personal enjoyment of legal, hopefully mature,
adults.  If you are not of legal age to read such material, if those in
power and/or those whom you trust treat it as illegal, or if it would
create unresolvable moral dilemmas in your life, please leave.  Finally,
remember that maturity generally demands that anything other than safe sex
is sheer insanity!

Thank you, Ed C., for your devoted help on this section of the story!


PART 19

(Revisiting the End of Part 18)

It was growing dark before the last participants passed through the Army's
chow line.  Damn!  The food was good!  Most interesting, however, was a
rumor that was sweeping through the groups who sat, enjoying their meals.
Rumor had it that the western occupying powers had come to a firm decision.
Namely, they had decided that it was in their own interest to switch their
German policy from a punishing occupation to the rehabilitation and
rebuilding of a new Germany.  Tieferwald's tomorrow suddenly looked very
promising.

(Continuing Our Story: "Zum Befehl, Herr Major!")

Rather gloomily, Sam and General Clemens sat in the Commandant's office at
the Base, discussing the intelligence concerning the Nazi nest at Frankfurt
conveyed by Andreas.  "I told him, sir, that I saw little hope of any
serious action taken on uncorroborated charges, but I owed it to him to
speak with you."  "Frankfurt knows about this cell, Captain," the General
responded, "but as yet they've been unable to move.  It's downright absurd!
Please thank your boy for being so straight with us - especially with his
friend involved - and tell him to keep his eyes open.  We'll get those
bastards yet!"

"Let me give you some GOOD news!" General Clemens continued.  The approval
for your three-week furlough just came through - and, as you requested,
Andreas is approved to join you."  The moustache on his upper lip twitching
slightly (as if a smile lay just below), he continued, "I also have news on
a request that I made: Andreas will not only join you, but he has been
designated your 'Special Assistant for German Youth'!  That could be
important when you reach Washington."  "How in the world did you manage..."
Sam began to sputter until he saw the General's raised hand.  You ought to
be able to leave in two to three weeks...military transportation all the
way.  You'll receive a few days notice.  Enjoy the good old US of A, Sam!"
(Noticing that the General had called him by his nickname for the first
time since he had arrived in Tieferwald am Main, Sam dared to go further.)

"By the way, sir - and forgive me if I'm asking something that's none of my
business - but is there any truth to the rumor that we are on the verge of
a major change in German policy?"  Sam asked.  "Yes, Sam, there's a lot of
truth to it."  ('There!  He did it again!' Sam thought.)  "Instead of just
keeping the Germans under our thumb, we're going to help them rebuild their
country.  President Truman and General Marshall are determined that the
days of just responding to Soviet actions are over.  It makes military
sense - and it will involve our country in the European economy for
generations."

"Before you get out of here, I picked up a little something for you over at
the PX."  At that, General Clemens reached out his hand and dropped the
insignia of a U.S. Army Major into Sam's outstretched palm.  No one has
done more to earn it, young man.  Congratulations!  Oh, yes, the official
papers will be coming through in a few days, but around here you are
already 'Major Samuel Peters'!"

After the Base photographer had magically appeared in the General's office
to take a picture - or two or three - a dazed new Major walked out of the
Commandant's office and quickly left the Base.  As he departed the main
gate, he was approached by the infamous Herr Schmidt whom he knew was
active in the Tieferwald sex business.  "If you will, sir" (Herr Schmidt
began in a wheedling tone of voice), I am privileged to know your young
ward, Andreas, and have some wonderful news to convey to him.  If you will
be so kind as to ask him to contact me?"

Wondering how in hell that sleaze-bag knew Andy, Sam continued on without
answering and soon found himself home.  In some amazement, he found all
residents of DAS HAUS - staff, boys, and Blondi alike - drawn up in a
double line along the walkway to the front door.  As he opened the gate and
approached, Ehrhardt saluted and barked, "Achtung!" (Sam felt the sudden
SNAP as if it were a shot!) "Herr Major (pronounced Mah-YOR), Ihre Soldaten
begruessen Sie!  Sieg Heil!" ["At-ten-SHUN!  Major, your soldiers greet
you!  Hail Victory!"]  Torn between collapsing into laughter, wondering how
in hell they had gotten the news so quickly...and correcting Ehrhardt on
his use of the old (and definitely outlawed) "Sieg Heil," Sam laughingly
embraced each of "his (stiffly saluting) soldiers" and jubilantly entered
The House.  That night - without making a point of it - Sam told Andreas
that "Schmidt" wanted to see him.  Deliberately, he ignored the glint in
Andy's eyes.  For several reasons, among them his own pique, he delayed
telling the boy about his coming trip to America.

(An Offer You Can't Refuse?)

Andreas was in fact INCENSED and let Herr Schmidt know about it when they
talked the next day.  "You said that our business was private!  You could
have simply spoken with me personally!  Why did you betray me?  I don't
give a damn if I AM your best model!  You can't expect me EVER to do any
work with you again!"

Telling Andreas that if he would calm down, he would soon show him why he
had to see him immediately, Herr Schmidt went into another office in the
complex and returned with a well-dressed man, a man obviously used to
wielding power.  Herr Rothenburg spent the better part of an hour outlining
an offer which he felt the lad simply couldn't refuse.  He went on to say
that "they" had been watching Andreas closely, that "they" realized he was
smart...very smart, that "they" appreciated his close ties to the American
military and, furthermore, he was probably more respected among the youth
of the area than any other single person.  Hence, "they" were prepared to
make Andreas a partner in their Tieferwald operation - with a most generous
share in the profits.  Finally, "they" would open a personal bank account
for him, an account that would eventually cover ALL of his future
university expenses!  Fully expecting Andreas's acceptance, Herr Rothenburg
sat back confidently.

Still angry that Herr Schmidt had approached Sam directly, Andreas said
that he simply didn't see how it would be possible for him to meet the
responsibilities that had been outlined.  In any case, the idea of "using"
the respect in which he was held by the American military, not to speak of
his relationships with fellow teens, didn't appeal to him.  Taken aback,
Herr Rothenburg gave him several reasons - mostly financial - why he should
reconsider.  When Andreas still would not accept, a decidedly uncomfortable
emissary actually pleaded with him to speak with his superior in Cologne
before turning down an offer that could change his life.  Fully realizing
the magnitude of the offer, sensing that it was unlikely he would earn any
more rich model's fees in Frankfurt, and intrigued by the idea that he
would no longer have to draw so heavily on Sam's limited resources, Andreas
said that he still felt very negatively, but that he would speak with the
gentleman in Cologne.  Smiling again...thinly, Herr Rothenburg told the lad
that his travel expenses were available from the cashier downstairs.
Collecting a thick stack of bills, fully three times that needed for the
trip, Andreas hurriedly (and in no little confusion) left the building and
hurried home.

Only telling Sam and Ehrhardt that he had to be away for a couple of days
on "personal business," Andreas boarded the northbound train that
morning. Locating his compartment, he was delighted to find that he had a
traveling companion.  Even better, he turned out to be a professor at a
technical institute in Cologne who was on his way home from a mathematics
conference in Nuremberg.  Andreas was delighted!  Several complex
mathematical operations had absolutely boggled his mind for over a year -
and, worse, his lack of understanding had raised hob with progress in
advanced chemistry and physics.  Showing the great respect reserved for
academics by Germans, he finally asked the Professor late in the trip if he
might describe his difficulties and, perhaps, receive some assistance.  On
describing them, the man immediately said, "Nein, nein, Junge [youngster],
every beginning university student has that same difficulty, but the
solution is not at all difficult to master.  Inasmuch as neither of them
had paper and pen or pencil handy, the Professor said, "Come over and sit
beside me, and I shall explain."

Smiling and explaining to Andreas that he was lucky he didn't have the thin
"colt" legs of a 13 year old, the Professor proceeded to illustrate the
operation on Andreas's heavily muscled thigh.  "Do you absolutely
understand thus far?" he asked.  "Jawohl, Herr Professor Doktor!"  The
Professor continued, his finger occasionally forced to brush against the
boy's thickening cock as it began to inch down his thigh and press up
against the thin summer fabric of his trousers.  "Do you absolutely
understand thus far?" he asked again.  "Jawohl, Herr Professor Doktor!"
Andreas answered in a somewhat breathy voice.

"Donnerwetter!" the Professor cursed, "I do not have room to show you the
most important part of this operation.  Quick!  Remove your shirt and lie
down on my lap!"  Responding to a direct command as might any young German
of that time, Andreas promptly removed his shirt and lay down on the
Professor's lap.  "Concentrate, Junge!  Follow each line of the
demonstration and tell me immediately if you do not understand!"  The
Professor then launched into the most complex part of the operation,
carefully tracing each line with his finger upon the lad's skin.  Feeling
increasingly aroused, Andreas felt his cock erect and become ever more
rigid.  "Do you absolutely understand thus far?" the Professor asked anew.
"Jawohl, Herr Professor Doktor!"  Andy managed to gasp.  "Very well, then,
we are ready for the final step!  Quickly!  Rise and stand in front of me!"

Though his thick, rigid 8.5 inches (21.5 cm) almost became snagged between
the Professor's legs, Andy managed to slide off his lap onto the carpeted
floor and then to rise.  "Lock the compartment door, mein Student!"  The
door locked and Andy once again standing before his teacher, the
experienced Professor then unfastened a few buttons, inserted his thumbs
between the boy's skin and his trousers and smoothly dragged them down to
his knees.  In relief, Andy moved his legs slightly apart.  Freed of its
constraints, Andreas's red, dripping cock snapped back against his taut
stomach with a wet THWAK!  "Outstanding!" the Professor murmured.  For a
moment, he simply cupped the lad's heavy balls in one hand and admired the
long, thick, and very rigid, wet cock that rose before him.  "Beautiful!"
Then, reaching down, he softly licked the entire underside of the teen's
erect organ.  Andreas gasped in passion as the Professor's rough tongue
reached that place where the ring of the head and the foreskin were
attached.  Slowly, rhythmically, the tip of his tongue tapped against the
juncture.  Andreas inhaled - but slowly exhaled as the Professor stopped
and gently swallowed the boy's head.  Without tightening his lips on the
shaft, he began to loosely circle it with his entire mouth.  When the youth
again began gasping and trembling, the Professor masterfully redirected his
attack a second time.  Momentary slipping off the bench and resting back on
his heels, he lifted the lad's heavy balls onto the top of his wet tongue.
Guiding the heavy sack with both hands, he then drew his tongue slowly
upwards along the seam to the very tip of lad's cock as if licking a very
special ice cream cone!  (And, indeed, "very special" it was!)  Again and
again he passed his tongue over the entire length. Beginning to moan
musically, Andreas was beside himself!

Returning to his seat, the Professor again inhaled the head of the youth's
pride and joy, swirled his tongue around it a few times so as to capture
the delicious nectar that flowed freely from the open urethra, and once
again began tapping the tip against the highly erogenous junction.  Feeling
as if his entire body were expanding, Andy seemingly tried to escape the
mounting fire by rising on his tiptoes.  As the train entered the rail
yards on the east side of the Rhine opposite Cologne, Andy's head thrust
back, the muscles of his thick neck quivering, his mouth open and gasping
for air.  Approaching the station, the locomotive's horn suddenly let go a
ferocious blast.  Startled, Andy let go gigantic blasts of cum that he was
sure would never stop.  The Mathematics Master - professionally competent
to the very last - swallowed every delicious drop!

As the train came to a stop, the Professor rose, calmly straightened his
clothes, located his leather briefcase, smiled at the awestruck boy, and
departed the compartment, leaving the door wide open!  Tripping over his
trousers now gathered around his ankles, Andy struggled towards the door on
hands and knees.  Unfortunately, a beautifully dressed woman, perhaps in
her mid thirties, spied him in mid crawl.  "Mein Gott, ich hoffe, dass SIE
nicht ein Waermer sind," ["My God, I hope YOU'RE not gay!"], she murmured
before continuing on.  Crimson with embarrassment, Andreas managed to slide
the door shut before anyone else in the passageway could see him.  Hastily,
he began to put himself back together.  He had to catch that bus that would
carry him across the pontoon bridge into Cologne itself

Walking outside the bus terminal, Andreas looked up around him.  This was a
big city - but the destruction!  Using the great cathedral as a landmark,
he hiked around to its reverse side.  There he beheld something that he had
not yet seen in Tieferwald or even in Frankfurt - a brand new, multi-story
apartment building.  Looking as if it would have been perfectly at home in
the New York City skyline, its many hundreds of windows shining in the
bright sun, it stood proudly trusting into the air.  Here was the cathedral
of a new Germany fully aligned economically with the West!  Following the
directions given him with his traveling money, Andreas announced himself to
the officer at the desk in the lobby.  (He was uncomfortably aware that a
submachine gun lay in the officer's lap.)  After a few words had been
spoken by the officer into a phone, he was directed to an elevator that
took him, without stopping, to the penthouse apartment far above.

As the elevator halted, its door noiselessly opening, he stepped into a
spacious anteroom richly decorated in marbles, rich fabrics, and a wondrous
period table that held flowers in a crystal vase.  A man in his early 50s
strode toward him from a room that lay beyond.  Clad in a red velvet
smoking jacket, his moderately long white hair perfectly combed, impeccably
dressed, he cut an impressive figure.  Holding out a manicured hand -
though offering no introduction - he welcomed Andreas to his home and
guided him into a magnificent living room whose wide windows overlooked the
Rhine. Though mature far beyond his years - and well tutored by his Uncle
Erich back in Pressburg - the youth was utterly stunned by the degree to
which the room literally screamed wealth and power.  The conversation that
followed - if one can call that which was essentially a monologue, a
conversation - was...curious.  His host didn't even mention the porn
business or the fact that "they" had decided he was desired as a partner.
Rather, his focus seemed to be on the benefits of economic power in an age
of uncertainty and danger.  Without one boastful word, he seemed to draw
back a curtain and show the young lad all that which could be his with but
a modicum of effort coupled with his dedicated support.  "The poor, the
weak, die like dogs, but we always survive - and prosper," he pontificated
as he led Andreas into the dining room.  The table was set with the finest
Meissen; the cutlery had to be made of gold!

After a meal that even exceeded the best efforts of the Baron's master
chef, they retired to a large, ornate music room.  There they were joined
by several other older gentlemen who bore the same stamp of wealth and
power that marked his host.  For over two hours they were entertained by a
superb quintet, playing Lieder [songs] that took Andreas back to his happy
youth in the forests of Slovakia and in the home of his beloved uncle in
Pressburg.  Such conversation as took place was light.  Andreas intuitively
knew that the men found him totally acceptable as clay for their molding.
At the same time, he knew that only their discipline ("breeding" would
surely have been a totally inaccurate term) kept them from throwing him to
the floor and taking him.  When the concert ended, his host's guests seemed
simply to disappear.

As the evening drew to a close, Andreas's host motioned for the lad to join
him on a living room couch that faced a long, marble coffee table.  From
his pocket, he removed a thick pack of snapshots that showed him having sex
with Rolf, with the Baron, with Dr. Kendrick, with the Professor on the
train, and (oh God!) with Sam.  Each clear photo showed his face, and every
muscle pictured, in the throes of ecstasy.  Several shots - including the
infamous orgasm photo that had been taken when he was impaled on the giant
steel phallus - showed heavy streams of cum spurting from his cock.
Andreas's host said not a word as the scared, stunned boy erratically
leafed through the packet.  Finally, the elegant man stood and reached out
for the boy's hand.  Holding it firmly, he placed ten crisp one hundred
U.S. dollar bills on his trembling palm, saying, "When you return to
Tieferwald, I want you to speak with Herr Rothenburg again...more
respectfully this time, please.  Also, when you have showered and are
prepared, you will come to my bedroom which is two doors beyond yours.
Everything needed is in your bathroom."  He turned abruptly and departed.

Andreas sat on the couch for a moment, absolutely terrified and nearly
immobile.  Hearing doors close and the sounds of a shower, he shook himself
into action, tossed the money and photos onto the table, and silently crept
from the apartment.  When the guard in the lobby seemed to accept his
excuse that he needed a breath of air, he stole into the night.  In truth,
his heart never ceased pounding until the bus neared Tieferwald at midday.
How could he ever tell Sam?

He could not tell Sam that afternoon.  Lying trembling in Sam's arms that
night, his throat and lips still remained paralyzed.  (Sam held his tongue,
his professional instincts telling him to avoid saying anything at that
particular moment.)  Finally, after Sam was fast asleep, the boy rose,
struggled into this clothes, and stepped out into the balmy night air.  He
walked aimlessly for hours.  Ultimately, in an unfamiliar part of the city,
he snapped out of his near trance as a car pulled up next to him.
Politely, the woman in the passenger's seat asked him for directions to the
main road leading out of the city and beseechingly held out a map which she
illuminated with a small flashlight.  As he approached the side of the car
and leaned down to study the map, all that he remembered was a strange
smelling cloth being held over his nose and mouth.  Andreas would not
return home that night.

On rising, Sam was alarmed when he found that Andreas was not in the house,
nor had anyone seen him since the evening before.  When Ehrhardt phoned him
at midmorning to tell him that the boy had not returned, Sam promptly left
for the Base to speak with the MPs.  He wondered where in hell his boy
could possibly be.

Sam could not possibly have known that at that moment Andreas lay naked on
a rough table in the hanger of a small, private airstrip near Munich.  A
wide piece of tape across his mouth, he was bound at the wrists and the
ankles with light glass ties commonly used to hold heavy pipe on flatbed
rail cars.  As he slowly came to, he heard a rough man's voice talking to
someone on the phone. Finally, he revived sufficiently to make out what was
being said.  "Yeah, boss.  . . .  Yeah.  . . .  No we don't have to do
that.  Other than on his head and a bit above his cock, he doesn't have a
hair on him!  . . .  Yeah, boss, consider it done.  . . .  Hey, that's
really OK!  Max will be pleased!  . . .  Ok, boss, we'll talk later.  Bye."

Putting the phone down, the roughly dressed man turned to see that Andreas
was conscious.  "So, Pretty Boy, you're back among the living.  For now, at
least," he smirked.  "Max, bring that razor over here and remove the cock
hair!"  Max, another villainous looking tough, suddenly came into Andreas's
vision, holding a straight razor.  "Easy there, Pretty Boy," he sneered.
"Move a muscle and you could lose something real important."  With a few
dramatic swipes, Max quickly removed the last body hair that Andreas had
asked the Baron to retain.


"Well, Pretty Boy, you've got yourself into quite a pickle.  I sure
wouldn't want the people who are mad at you to be mad with me!  Do you know
what's going to happen to you?"  Andreas glared at him as the first thug
continued happily.  "You've been sold as a slave to one of the richest
sheiks on the Persian Gulf.  Seems he fancies young meat - and you're going
to be his personal "boy toy" until he tires of you."  Noticing the tears
that had begun to creep into Andreas's wide-open eyes, he joyfully
continued.  "And when he does finally tire of you, he will either slit your
throat from ear to ear (the thug dramatically demonstrated how the boy's
throat would be cut) or he will send you to the mines!  Seven days a week,
20 hours a day in the desert heat and under the lash...  A man doesn't last
long out there - and he probably prays every minute for it to end."

Suddenly, he turned to his companion and snorted gleefully, "Max, the boss
has a special present for you!  He said that Pretty Boy's already been
fucked.  You can have him - as long as you don't tear him up.  Do that and
you're dead meat," he concluded darkly.

Holding his straight razor on high, Max moved over to Andreas, punched him
in the stomach with the heel of his free hand, and growled that the boy
would either remain still or he'd cut his throat himself.  Quickly, he used
the razor to cut the bindings on the youngster who now lay totally
paralyzed with fear.  Holding a piece of the glass binding in the air, he
commented that he liked rope, but the bosses preferred this stuff made up
in Koblenz.  Then he roughly turned Andreas over, reaching under his solid
body to drag the youth's heavy scrotum and cock down between his spread
legs.  "Don't move a muscle or you're a dead man," he snarled.  As he
stroked Andreas's butt and fingered his anus, he paused every now and again
to rest the point of the razor on the boy's skin.  Watching Max out of the
corner of his eye, Andreas saw one hand begin to fumble with his pants from
which he finally drew a large, hairy, and very ugly cock.  His mouth as dry
as the desert to which he was headed, the lad's heart seemed ready to burst
through his thick chest.

The phone rang!  Following a quick conversation, the first tough told Max
that he was out of luck, that the plane that would take the youngster to
his fate was even then approaching the airstrip - and that the pilots had
notably short fuses!  Grumbling and cursing, the thug reluctantly put his
thing back into his pants.  After sensing a small prick on his shoulder,
Andreas neither felt nor heard anything further.  The boy was quickly hosed
down, his body and hair were cleansed, and he was dried thoroughly before
being lightly oiled.  Even though he would remain unconscious until they
reached the Gulf and he was revived, his wrists and ankles were again
bound.  He was then carefully loaded into a padded wooden crate that looked
something like a coffin with air holes.  Placed on a cart, the crate was
then wheeled out on the tarmac to the waiting plane, its cargo bay already
open.  One of the pilots stood in the opening, cursing for the thugs to
hurry up.

Suddenly and without warning, the tarmac was filled with shouting MPs.
Several Jeeps with flashing lights roared onto the landing strip, cutting
off escape for the plane and for anyone crazy enough to try to flee.  A
loudspeaker blared that they would be cut to pieces unless there was total,
immediate surrender.  Knowing that there was no hope of escape, the two
pilots and the thugs threw up their hands.

Andreas woke up the next morning in a Munich hospital to find his hand
being held by Sam.  As soon as Andreas was able to focus his eyes, he threw
himself into Sam's arms, trembling, weeping, and hysterically kissing his
beloved.  The Major became somewhat alarmed as the day went on, for Andreas
continued to have periods of violent trembling and weeping.  Late in the
day, however, he appeared to begin snapping out of it.  It was then that
Sam told him about the forthcoming trip to America - and the fact that he
was going as his "Special Assistant for German Youth."  His eyes heavy with
sleep, the last thing that the youngster asked was whether an "'official'
assistant" or a "'special' assistant" was more important to him.  As his
eyes closed, Sam gently kissed him on the forehead and told his love that
he could take his choice...  any day.

The psychiatrist who checked Andreas out the next morning talked with him
for a bit, ordered a mild sedative for use "as necessary," and then spoke
privately with Sam.  "I think the best medicine for this young man," he
said, "is your love...and, probably, the trip to America.  Just try to
avoid placing any extreme pressure on him for awhile and don't be surprised
if he becomes a little 'emotional' on occasion."  'Just on occasion?' Sam
thought. 'Doctor, you don't know the half of it!'  On the third morning,
the doctors cleared Andreas to return to Tieferwald.

Sam and Andreas returned to a house that was literally under armed guard.
In accord with General Clemens' orders, they tried to remain as
inconspicuous as possible.  Nevertheless, armed soldiers on foot and in
Jeeps mounted a 24-hour surveillance.  Furthermore, if a resident went
anywhere - were it to school, the PX, or even a girl's home - armed
soldiers always seemed to be loitering innocently in the vicinity.

(The Wall Begins to Crumble)

The extreme caution seemed justified when, several days later, Military
Police conducted armed raids on Herr Schmidt's home and office.  (A wild
rumor had it that the raids took place in response to a phone call that had
originated within the German pornography industry itself.)  Herr Schmidt
and several of his junior employees were found dead, each killed by a
single shot to the back of the skull.  No money or records were ever found,
nor were any children reputedly held in bondage for VIPs ever discovered.
Rather, a single box was found on top of a filing cabinet that contained
photos of five year-old boys being fucked by fat old men and young
adolescent girls being savagely whipped.  (None of the children or adults
pictured was ever identified.)  Eventually, the pictures were accepted as
everything that the authorities were going to find, and the official
investigation was put on permanent hold.  In truth, not unlike every
country on earth, everyone involved in the case knew a can of worms when he
saw it - and no one dared to be the one to open it!  Besides, not a few of
the officials (including judges and members of the City Council) were as
relieved that records hadn't been recovered as they were generally
satisfied that a true Schweinhund was dead.

Two evenings before leaving for the States, Sam and Andreas sat at the
dining room table, playing a game of Parcheesi.  "How do you feel about
leaving for the States, babe? Sam asked.  "Man, oh man, Sam, I am really
looking forward to seeing your Fatherland - even though I love mine."
Andreas continued, "It's just that there have been so many horrible
things..."  Suddenly, the lad let out a whoop and, in a series of "lucky"
throws, managed to send most of his opponent's colored markers back to
their starting place.

Watching his love enthusiastically wreaking destruction on his markers,
Sam's thoughts were not all that different from Andreas's.  He loved
Germany and, God knows, he loved his job.  Maybe, however, it was a good
time for the two young men to "get out of Dodge," at least for a few weeks.


(To Be Continued)