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Kloster and Hans were shooting the first two incendiary grenades towards two windows of the
second floor: one of them impacted on the chest of the lama who was vociferating
circumstantially his speech and made him disappear under a blinding light; another penetrated
cleanly through the contiguous aperture and exploded in the interior of the Gompa. And
through both windows, after the explosion, was seen how the fire seared everything.

But the didn’t look back to evaluate the effect of their attack. After the first two,
they continued throwing grenades against the widows at the rate of ten per front, until
complete the forty. Kloster ran by the right, followed by von Grossen and the two kâulikas,
stoping at stretchs to reload the grenade and shoot. Hans did it by the left, protected by Heinz
and three kâulikas, shooting in similar manner.

No one counted with the possibility that the Monastery would have possessed its own
body of guard, which passed unwarned to the Gurkha observer. However, such was
insignificant in number, although its members had a good training in the employment of the
sabre. There they suffered the first and unique casualty, when a surprising slash ended with the
life of a lopa of the group of von Grossen. The guards, two or three on each door, remained out
and they tried, displaying some courage, to avoid that the Monastery be attacked. Of course,
they didn’t have the dexterity nor the necessary knowledge to rivalize with the kâulikas and,
when they were not eliminated by their scimitars, they fell perforated by the German bullets.

In a few seconds the Lamas Monastery’s was then, likewise grass of the flames. As
involuntary guests of an infernal stove, as if the Ray of Indra would have fallen effectively over
the pacific Ashram Jafran, the major part of the hypocrites Saints lamas found a horrible death
in those first minutes of the attack. A death accompanied by a shivery concert of sorrowful
howls.

At the two minutes, both squads were reunited in the posterior door of the Monastery,
the one that pointed at the White Isle and the Temple of Ridgen Jyepo. The clocks signalized
the one and eighteen minutes, and through the beach was coming at slow pace a third group:
was the gang composed by the Gurkha, the lopa, Oskar Feil, and me!

Suddenly the door was opened and some lamas pretended to go outside. They were
coughing and crying for the smoke, and their simple Asian countenances represented the image
of the terror: von Grossen strafed them without mercy and bellowed:

–To the other gates!

In fact, the rest of the doors were opened too but very few were the survivors that we
had suppressed: the intense heat, and the collapse of the superior floors, ended with the main

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