It was Execution Night in Nürnberg, and in the spacious second-floor pressroom at the courthouse, the air was heavy with tension and tobacco smoke. Eight newsmen, chosen by lot, had gone to see the war criminals die. To kill time, the 60-odd correspondents who were left behind paced the floor restlessly, watched each other with guarded eyes, plotted how they might scoop the pool. The minutes and hours ticked by. Around the world, they knew, deadlines were coming & going, while editors stood impatiently over teletypes.
Two German reporters came in, dripping wet, from...
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