Page 418 - The Book Thief

Attached to it was the slender face of a young man with a smile like a sneer.

Reinhold Zucker. With us, he said, the enemy isnt over the hill or in any specific
direction. Its all around. He returned his focus to the letter he was writing. Youll
see.

In the messy space of a few months, Reinhold Zucker would be dead. He would
be killed by Hans Hubermanns seat.

As the war flew into Germany with more intensity, Hans would learn that every
one of his shifts started in the same fashion. The men would gather at the truck
to be briefed on what had been hit during their break, what was most likely to be
hit next, and who was working with whom.

Even when no raids were in operation, there would still be a great deal of work
to be done. They would drive through broken towns, cleaning up. In the truck,
there were twelve slouched men, all rising and falling with the various
inconsistencies in the road.

From the beginning, it was clear that they all owned a seat.

Reinhold Zuckers was in the middle of the left row.

Hans Hubermanns was at the very back, where the daylight stretched itself out.
He learned quickly to be on the lookout for any rubbish that might be thrown
from anywhere in the trucks interior. Hans reserved a special respect for
cigarette butts, still burning as they whistled by.

A COMPLETE LETTER HOME
To my dear Rosa and Liesel,
Everything is fine here.
I hope you are both well.
With love, Papa

In late November, he had his first smoky taste of an actual raid. The truck was

mobbed by rubble and there was much running and shouting. Fires were burning