The best of all, however, was that my childhood friend, Gustav, turned up close beside me. I had lost sight of him for dozens of years, the wildest, strongest, most eager and venturesome of the friends of my childhood. I laughed in my heart as I saw him blink at me with his bright blue eyes. He beckoned and at once I followed him joyfully.
“Good Lord, Gustav,” I cried happily, “I haven’t seen you in ages. Whatever has become of you?”
He gave a derisive snort, just as he used to do as a boy. “There you are again, you idiot, jabbering and asking questions. I’m a professor of theology if you want to know. But, Lord be praised, there’s no occaision for theology now, my boy. It’s war. Come on!”
He shot the driver of a small car that came snorting towards us and leaping into it as nimbly as monkey, brought it to a standstill for me to get in. Then we drove like the devil between bullets and crashed cars out of town and suburbs.