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I turned to look, but there were a lot of people in front of me, so I stayed seated. I had a good view of the door, and I saw two blond guys push their way out. After a few minutes, it was clear that the woman with the camera had been stabbed, and her assailant had gotten away. Now the question was, was she a Nazi photographing non-Nazis or a partisan photographing Nazis. I kept thinking of the two blond men leaving, but my mind was slipping back to Hanna and Hans.
"Let's get out of here," I said.
"Slowly. You can bet there are Nazis outside thinking partisans will be in a hurry to leave," Tomasz suggested.
We made our way outside and hung around for a few minutes as the crowd grew, then went back to the hotel.
"Hard to know who anyone is these days," I stated.
"There's no way of knowing how many turncoats and double agents are out there," Tomasz said, in a matter of fact type voice.
"How do we meet other partisans," I asked.
"First, we need to stay low for a while. When we get a feel for what's happening, we can start reaching out. We will need a couple of copies of Mein Kampf as well. Part of passing as Nazis, we will have to able to quote from it," Tomasz replied.
The next morning, we were woken up by screaming and shooting. We went outside, and saw a dozen or so people lined up, and shot, one by one.
A German officer was shouting something about this is what happens if you attack a German soldier, or attempt to sabotage the war effort.
On the way back to our room we took the alley to avoid prying eyes. We were stopped by an elderly man who told us to leave, immediately.
"Why?" I asked.
"The Gestapo is asking everyone in the hotel for ID," he answered, adding, "You two don't look like commoners looking for work."
"That obvious?" Tomasz side.
"Yes, that obvious," the old man said, in a matter-of-fact voice.
Tomasz pulled bayonet from under his coat, and rammed it into the old man's heart.
I stepped back, and shouted, "Are you nut's?"
"Look at his boots. Those are Gestapo boots," Tomasz said, as he pulled off the old man's coat, and slid his sleave up to reveal his SS tattoo, adding, "He smells like he just stepped out of a bath with fragrance salts. Old men wearing tattered coats have an odor all their own."
Tomasz took his wallet, watch, ring, and removed on boot. "They will think it was a robbery, and not a partisan attack.
There was an empty wine bottle in a near by trash can, so we place it in the old man's hand and walked away.
"Our mistake was taking the alley. Had I been thinking, I would have realized only those whishing not to be seen would take an alley. The Gestapo also know these things. That guy was just fishing," Tomasz said, shaking his head.
"They will kill many innocent people for this," I stated.
"I know, I know," Tomasz replied, in a shallow voice.
We went back to our room without incident. The next morning, we left on a bus for Munich. On the bus we found out just how much evil was thriving in Kaufering. There were several concentration camps and underground munition factories.
When we got to Munich, we both knew we would have to go back to Kaufering. The people we had talked to on the bus left us daydreaming about the number of targets we could visit.
When the bus stopped, the Gestapo was checking papers as people got off. We decided to go a bit further. About ten miles down the road there was a small village. When the bus stopped, there was no one checking, so we got off.
"Hmm, nice and clean, and quiet," Tomasz stated.
"Everyone is looking down, and from side to side. It's like they're all suspicious of something,"
"Act the same. There's a caf over there," Tomasz said.
We entered the caf , and seen six regular soldiers sitting at the tables in the back. They gave us a close look, then turned back to their meals.
"I guess we pass as uninteresting," I said, as if I felt badly about being rebuffed.
"You'll get over it. Kinda quiet in here," Tomasz said, in a quiet voice.
It was hard not to notice the other patrons kept giving us, and each other side glances.
After a less then a five star meal, we went looking for a room, there were none available. We wounded up sleeping on the floor of a small church, along with a hundred or so others.
It was moderately unsettling to notice that, even with all of those people in that small space, that there was little to no talking, just an occasional cough.
We decided to catch the next bus. Another ten miles down the road, there was a larger village.
"Looks like they are looking straight ahead, lets get off," Tomasz said, with optimistic overtones.
We walked around a while, and this place seamed much more friendly.
We found a Hofbrauhaus, and went in for beer. The waitress was polite and friendly, but would not sell me a beer, stating something about my age. I told her of our experience at the other settlement, and she told us of the executions for someone speaking her mind about Hitler.
"This place is either pro Hitler, or they don't want to get shot," I said.
We got the last room available at a small inn.
Tomasz was looking out of the window, when he seen three people turn off the main street to a side street. They kept looking behind them. One of the three was wearing a red shirt and a brown vest. He stopped to tie his shoe. The other kept walking to a doorway and went in. Moments later two men, obviously Gestakpo, turned down the street, walked passed the man tying his shoe a few feet, then stopped and turned around. They talked for a minute, then the Gestapo went back to the main street, and he man in the red shirt continued to his companions.