Late that evening I sit by a bonfire in the backyard of the farmhouse and have supper with the colonel. It is not a situation of my choosing, but as Our Lord has taught us, there are times when we must render unto Caesar. Nonetheless, in the warmth of the fire and the sparks rising into the sky, I am eating a plate of pork and eggplant and rice and gravy a few feet away from a man who has committed war crimes I do not want to think about. He is obviously deranged, and probably depraved. It is difficult to have charitable thoughts about him. I suspect his brain is filled with wormholes, and he
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