“He had made his peace with God,” said Father Weichs. “It seemed kinder to destroy them. The secret lusts of the dead should end with the flesh that created them. Besides,” he added briskly, “there is always the risk of such erotica getting into the hands of children.”
George got to his feet. “Thanks, Father. There are just a couple more things I’d like to ask you. Did you ever know what unit of the paratroopers young Schirmer was serving in?”
“No. I regret that I did not.”
“Well, we can find that out later. What were his given names, Father, and his rank? Do you remember?”
“I only knew one name. Franz, it was, I think. Franz Schirmer. He was a Sergeant.”
6
They stayed that night in Stuttgart. Over dinner George summed up the results of their work.
“We can go straight to Cologne and try to find the Johann Schirmers by going through the city records,” he went on; “or we can go after the German army records, turn up Franz Schirmer’s papers, and get hold of his parents’ address that way.”
“Why should the army have his parents’ address?”
“Well, if it were our army he’d been in, his personal file would probably show the address of his parents, or wife if he’s married, as next of kin. Someone they can notify when you’ve been killed is a thing most armies like to have. What do you think?”