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Unformatted text preview: smell of a freshly cut coffin. Black dresses. Enormous suitcases under the eyes. Liesel stood like
the rest, on the grass. She read to Frau Holtzapfel that same afternoon. The Dream Carrier, her neighbor’s
It was a busy day all around, really.
JULY 27, 1943
Michael Holtzapfel was buried and the book
thief read to the bereaved. The Allies bombed
Hamburg—and on that subject, it’s lucky I’m
somewhat miraculous. No one else could carry close to
forty-five thousand people in such a short amount
of time. Not in a million human years.
The Germans were starting to pay in earnest by then. The Führer ’s pimply little knees were starting to shake.
Still, I’ll give him something, that Führer.
He certainly had an iron will.
There was no slackening off in terms of war-making, nor was there any scaling back on the extermination and
punishment of a Jewish plague. While most of the camps were spread throughout Europe, there were some still
in existence in Germany itself.
In those camps, many people were still made to work, and walk.
Max Vandenburg was one such Jew. WAY OF THE WORDS
It happened in a small town of Hitler’s heartland.
The flow of more suffering was pumped nicely out, and a small piece of it had now arrived.
Jews were being marched through the outskirts of Munich, and one teenage girl somehow did the unthinkable
and made her way through to walk with them. When the soldiers pulled her away and threw her to the ground,
she stood up again. She continued.
The morning was warm.
Another beautiful day for a parade.
The soldiers and Jews made their way through several towns and were arriving now in Molching. It was
possible that more work needed to be done in the camp, or several prisoners had died. Whatever the reason, a
new batch of fresh, tired Jews was being taken on foot to Dachau.
As she always did, Liesel ran to Munich Street with the usual band of onlookers.
She could hear the first soldier from far up the road and made her way toward him th...
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