The daily monitor leader. [volume] (Mount Clemens, Mich.) 1942-19??, 1942-12-16

.expostulating with the soldiers.
They pushed him back with
laughter and jews. The crowd
started singing the national an
them. slow and stately. More
soldiers came down the road
from the hotel, carrying ugly
looking rifles slung across their
backs. They finished loading the
cart, tied the old man to its tail
board, and started toward the
center of town.
The people followed, led by
Gunnar and Knut Osterholm,
the limping farmer. Never
mind, old Sixtus," they cried.
Our day is coming" The wind
blew scattered papers off the
cart and onto the road. Here and
there, people stopped to pick
them up.
The troops started singing the
Horst Vessel song. They march
ed along beside the cart in high
good humor.
Though he was very tired, the
old man walked with his head
high behind the cart. Except for
the blood on his beard, his face
was drawn and pale.
A long, deep whistle blast
sounded down in the harbor. 1t
was the mailboat pulling into
the pier. Most of them did not
even hear it. The soldiers paid
no attention at all. But DR..
Stensgard, back in the press, felt
his heart beat faster. That would
be Johann coming home. He
started praying inwardly that all
this would be over before the
boy landed so that no one in the
crowd would see him. Two or
derlies carrying Major Ruck's
baggage came down the hotel
path and cut across the line of
march.
They dumped the cart near
the fountain in the middle of the
square. People were streaming
in from all the side streets. Two
soldiers appeared from the di-
rection of the wharf, carrying a
large metal container between
them. They were greeted with
cheers by the troopers standing
around the old man, and went
about splashing gasoline over
the pile of furniture and books.
Sixtus was still tied to the over
turned cart, shouting something,
but over the noise of the crowd,
no one could hear what it was.
Someone put a match to the
paper and spires of thick, black
smoke gathered and rose in the
air, sweeping in broad eddies
westward over toward the
docks. The crowd surged for
ward, shaking their fists and
shouting imprecations, but tie
troops unslung rifles and formed
square facing outward to hold
them back.
And suddenly the gray mass
of people grew very still. The
shouts and snatches of song
stopped as if broken off. The
soldiers became nervous, as if
afraid that at any moment those
hundreds would rush in one SOL
id packed mass and crush them
with kicks and blows before
they could fire a shot.
Keep back" they shouted.
Keep back"
Stensgard could stand it no
longer. He looked around, and
all he could see was the great
throng of men and women with
dark hatred in their faces, star
ing inward at the fire near the
fountain. He kept craning his
neck to see who was coming up
from the pier.
All at once the old man cried
out in loud voice, For Gods
sake, let me CO." The people
stirred, and young Pastor Aale-
sen ran out from among them
and straight across the square.
Stensgard pushed his way
back. He was painting heavily.
His face was wet. His collar was
toe tight. He went quickly back
up the road, feeling the cool
wind, hearing the mute and hea-
Wy crowd behind him. He kept
on biting his lips and pressing
his large white handkerchief to
his mouth.
When he got to his own door
his face was white as chalk. He
could not catch his breath.
Anna. Anna" he cried, and
wondered confusedly where his
wife could be. A tall, fair-haired
man with a carpet bag slung
over his shoulder stood waiting
for him in the doorway.
The days grew raw and bitter
cold. The sea Numbered up its