Page 377 - The Book Thief

THE LONG WALK TO DACHAU

Some people said that the truck had broken down, but I can personally testify
that this was not the case. I was there.

What had happened was an ocean sky, with whitecap clouds.

Also, there was more than just the one vehicle. Three trucks dont all break down
at once.

When the soldiers pulled over to share some food and cigarettes and to poke at

the package of Jews, one of the prisoners collapsed from starvation and sickness.
I have no idea where the convoy had traveled from, but it was perhaps four miles
from Molching, and many steps more to the concentration camp at Dachau.

I climbed through the windshield of the truck, found the diseased man, and
jumped out the back. His soul was skinny. His beard was a ball and chain. My
feet landed loudly in the gravel, though not a sound was heard by a soldier or
prisoner. But they could all smell me.

Recollection tells me that there were many wishes in the back of that truck. Inner
voices called out to me.

Why him and not me?

Thank God it isnt me.

The soldiers, on the other hand, were occupied with a different discussion. The
leader squashed his cigarette and asked the others a smoggy question. When was
the last time we took these rats for some fresh air?

His first lieutenant choked back a cough. They could sure use it, couldnt they?

Well, how about it, then? Weve got time, dont we?

Weve always got time, sir.