Still, I'll give him something, that Fuhrer.

Max Vandenburg was one such Jew.

JULY 27, 1943

There was the smell of a freshly cut coffin. Black dresses. Enormous suitcases under the eyes. Liesel stood like the rest, on the grass. She read to Frau Holtzapfel that same afternoon. The Dream Carrier, her neighbor's favorite.

The Allies bombed Hamburg -- and on that subject, it's lucky I'm somewhat miraculous.

No one else could carry close to forty-five thousand people in such a short amount of time. Not in a million human years.

It was a busy day all around, really.

Michael Holtzapfel was buried and the book thief read to the bereaved.

He certainly had an iron will.

There was no slackening off in terms of war-making, nor was there any scaling back on the extermination and punishment of a Jewish plague. While most of the camps were spread throughout Europe, there were some still in existence in Germany itself.

The Germans were starting to pay in earnest by then. The Fuhrer's pimply little knees were starting to shake.

In those camps, many people were still made to work, and walk.