Page 33 - Fanget I Tiden oversættelse - caught in time (komplet)-converted
P. 33

Hahn stood threatening, with the bottle in his hand, his arm raised, ready to

                   knock it into the face of the young man at any time.
                   "Stop your damn crying, boy. We are at war. "

                   With a jolt he turned away from Peter, who could not hold his tears back. The

                   weeping came tumbling down. His crying was loud in volume and came in
                   anxious shocks, like a child, as he fell to the ground.

                   “Are you not listening? We are at war! Stop it.”

                   The chair at the small desk squeaked when Hahn brat sat down in the chair and
                   screwed the lid off his field bottle.

                   "Start."
                   The next three hours, the two men did not exchange a word. As fossilized, Jürgen

                   Hahn was sitting and studying the letters he had received. The whiskey bottle

                   was empty.
                   After cleaning the trailer, polishing the general boots, picking up telegrams and

                   arranging some papers, the young adjudicator asked for permission to step off.

                   "You’re not going anywhere!”
                   Every bit of kindness had disappeared from his voice. Hahn felt a monsoon of

                   anger tolling over him, as he jumped up and grabbed the collar of the young
                   soldier.

                   With a knotted fist he struck the young soldier in his face. The blow came with

                   such impact that Eberhardt’s body opened the door. He fell out of the trailer and
                   down two steps. Jürgen Hahn barely paid any heed to the waves of snow blowing

                   against his face. He was furious.

                   Bewildered, the young man tried to get up. Jürgen Hahn was over him.
                   "You are not going anywhere, goddamnit. That’s an order!" he roared, as raised

                   the youth up the stairs.

                          This time he hit as viciously as he could, and hammered his fist into one
                   side of Peter Eberhardt. At the same time kicking in the his other side.

                   "Let me fucking be! Do you hear?" Peter called out desperately, as blood flowed

                   down his face.
                   The hatred was taking over Jürgen Hahn, who now slung his arm around the

                   young man's neck, holding his head like a screwdriver. He did not pay any
                   attention to the words popping out of the young soldier's mouth.
   28   29   30   31   32   33   34   35   36   37   38