The rain fell endlessly. But somehow the word buzzed around Grenoble's streets : at 7 p.m. six Milice would be shot against a factory wall at the end of the Cours Berriat. By 6 o'clock the rain-drenched streets were jammed with people afoot, on bicycles, in trolleys and decrepit autos, hurrying toward the death scene.
They might have been people hurrying to a circus. They laughed, shouted greetings, raced each other. Good-naturedly they elbowed each other aside as they struggled for vantage points at the execution ground. In the same lot the...
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