Walter Schoen, more dedicated to the Reich than Jurgen would ever be, said, “Your comrade is an SS man, one of Himmler’s men of honor with a pedigree, his family pure Aryan going back for centuries. There is not even a remote possibility Major Penzler would ever betray a German soldier. Let me say also, you sound very American when you speak. More so than I, and I have had to live here more than thirty years.”

Jurgen said, “Let me explain something to you about Otto. He joined the SS because at the time he felt it was an honor, it gave him position. Not because he wanted to be a guardian of racial purity, or to lead a crusade against the Bolsheviks. That’s something he told his SS fellows. But, he has said more than once he never took the political indoctrination seriously. I believed that of him. He managed to hook up with Rommel and quite possibly was the only member of the Waffen-SS in North Africa. During the time in Oklahoma he never posed or put on airs. He commanded panzers and was known as the Scharfrichter, the executioner of British tanks. Walter,” Jurgen said, “what Otto wants right now is to feel once again a sense of war. It’s what he is, a warrior. He wants to relive the excitement of crushing Poland. He wants to see buildings the Luftwaffe destroyed on its raids. You say it hasn’t happened, you’re still waiting for the bombers. I don’t know, maybe he needs to bludgeon some poor wretch and kick him senseless. He might do it because his frustration has brought him to the point of going mad. Then he’s arrested, and talks and talks. I’m hoping a drive into Detroit will relieve the tension, expose Otto to the way Americans live and he’ll see how much we are alike.”

Walter Schoen was squinting again, confused. “You believe that’s true?”

Something strange was happening during the past six months: people coming to Walter for his assistance.