An SS sergeant. He must be around forty or fifty. Every night, after the Appell, he takes out his violin and, hesitatingly, plays raspy, maudlin tunes for the listening stars. So far he’s beaten twenty-two people to death with his cane and shot nine to death with his revolver during the Appells, for all those lined up to see. He’s a hefty Teuton with watery blue eyes, blond hair, and glasses. He has a slaughterhouse in some small town in Pomerania. His wife is now running the business. Yes, there’s a war on; duty calls.…
