CHAPTER 11FROEHLICHE WEIHNACHTEN
My wounds had almost healed by the time of the Christmas party at the German Embassy. Ana looked radiant. She positively shimmered in her evening gown. I had managed, at the last minute, to rent a tuxedo, which was badly pressed and had a faded stain on the cummerbund. The swelling in my face had gone down somewhat but the scars, while fading also, were still visible. It occurred to me that I was beginning to look more like my World War II Luftwaffe colleagues than a college boy from Cornell.
“Aah, you must be Ana’s American friend,” said the director of Ana’s section. “How do you Americans say it?” He hesitated as though in thought. “What does the other fellow look like?” At this he burst into restrained laughter, sloshing his drink around as he did so.
