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By the afternoon, the shooting had just become a blur of noise and sound, and the smell of cordite, blood, and shit filled the air. At one point Schlegel shouted out in shocked surprise, “No! That’s our damn waitress!” as he realized that one of the Jews in the line being marched toward our pistols worked at the KdS mess. We were killing our own staff, like Saturn devouring his sons; and that, more than anything else, seemed to sum up the lunacy of it all. We would rather have Frau Levy lying dead in a hole in the ground than bringing us our evening bowls of soup. The
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