Chapter 7

“You write letters for them? Why?” Dubois sat down again, leaning forward on his knees, closer to Joe’s bunk.

“I don’t know. I can’t remember how it started.”

“To their wives?”

“Sometimes their mothers.”

“I see.” Again, Dubois looked panicked, the fear getting the best of him. Joe knew the young man was scared. Scared of the night. The first night was always the cruelest, but he couldn’t help him, so he went back to his letter. But he wasn’t himself tonight. Joe crumpled the letter again. This would have to be the last effort tonight.

Dubois’s hands were shaking now. His face was deathly pale. He stared wildly at the darkening hall.

Joe had to say something. Had to give this man some kind of peace. “He’ll come for you,” he said. “Your father.”

Dubois quickly turned away from him, lying down again. He hugged his knees and faced the wall

The night was coming.

“What is that?” Dubois turned to him. “Did you hear that?”