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The American and the interpreter stopped dead in their tracks. A German soldier was sitting on a fallen tree trunk at the edge of the dugout, holding a pot in his hands. He had cooked himself something and was slurping it up. In the stillness they could clearly hear his spoon scrape against the pot. The boy and the girl were seated beside him, attentively watching him eat.
Creighton and Olga could not believe what they were seeing. The scene was unreal. The pale, blond, emaciated German was eating with great concentration, thoughtfully gazing at each spoonful as he brought it to his mouth. His torn uniform hung threadbare on his body, and through the holes his blindingly pale skin gleamed. A reddish beard covered his face. The German moved with effort, as if each motion hurt him, and
