It all began with the shrill ringing of the telephone. Wilhelm Prenzler picked up the phone, cursing and wishing he hadn’t heard it.
“I wish to speak with Wilhelm Prenzler,” said a raspy, heavily accented voice. “Wilhelm Prenzler, born in Berlin seventy-five years ago,” the voice added,
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hesitantly, as seeking reassurance.
“Yes,
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Pepe picked up a stick from the beach and drew a sketch in the sand. He drew the shape of a peninsula that projected into Manila Bay, most of which was occupied by the Sangley Navy Air Station. Pepe added detail at the very tip of the peninsula including the location of the Quonset hut being used as an
Continue reading For the Cause
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Pete could see that the beautiful Studebaker had rolled over on top of a rock pile. The front and back windows were broken out. Pete didn’t investigate further; he knew it was the end, as bad as it could get.
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