That fact is the basis for his sympathy with me. 'Tell them the things a man does to stay alive! What's so noble about being a briquet?' he said last night

'Did you ever hear any of my broadcasts?' I asked him. The medium of my war crimes was radio broadcasting. I was a Nazi radio propagandist, a shrewd and loathsome anti-Semite.

'No,' he said.

So I showed him a transcript of a broadcast, a transcript furnished to me by the Haifa Institute. 'Read it,' I said.

'I don't have to,' he said. 'Everybody was saying the same things over and over and over in those days.'

'Read it anyway — as a favor,' I said.

So he read it, his face becoming sourer and sourer. He handed it back to me. 'You disappoint me,' he said.

'Oh?' I said.

'It's so weak!' he said. 'It has no body, no paprika, no zest! I thought you were a master of racial invective!'

'I'm not?' I said.

'If any member of my S.S. platoon had spoken in such a friendly way about the Jews,' said Arpad, 'I would have had him shot for treason! Goebbels should have fired you and hired me as the radio scourge of the Jews. I would have raised blisters around the world!'

'You were already doing your part with your S.S. platoon,' I said.

Arpad beamed, remembering his S.S. days. 'What an Aryan I made!' he said.

'Nobody ever suspected you?' I said.

'How would they dare?' he said. 'I was such a pure and terrifying Aryan that they even put me in a special detachment. Its mission was to find out how the Jews always knew what the S.S. was going to do next There was a leak somewhere, and we were out to stop it' He looked bitter and affronted, remembering it, even though he had been that leak.

'Was the detachment successful in its mission?' I said.