hitler

132in review. Michael‟s heart leapt with exultation. The chatterand the smoke, the rasping voice of his neighbour andthe glaring lights made him feel a different man – they madehim feel that he was alive and that one day he might be lesswretched. The very thought of that day brought a wave ofwarm blood to his temples. Settling down comfortably onhis hard bench he reflected that he would have at least threemore hours to enjoy this congenial setting.“Trommelfeuer,” read the inscription on one of the posters.“Offensive on all fronts,” read the inscription on theother.A trumpet signal was a sign for hushed attention. Froma door emerged Adolf Hitler, in brown breeches and brownshirt, whip in the hand, a lock of hair falling into his lefteye, tense, magnetic, austere.“Stillgestanden,” commanded a deputy chief of the Fascistarmy and the shock detachment stiffened to attention.With one bounding step the deputy stood in front of the dictatorand in a clear voice made his report.“Hail,” shouted the crowd and arms were raised to theFascist salute.When Hitler lowered his arm, the sea of arms subsided.Michael Spiessbuerger liked the harsh voice of the manon the stage, and he liked his electrifying intensity. As Hitlerspoke Michael felt he, Michael Spiessbuerger, unemployediron-worker, was assuming gigantic proportions. His headtouched the ceiling and then it reached the sky. Stars werecircling around him and Michael knew he was the centre of