In the clammy dawn, a railway inspector in Hamburg last week was making his rounds of freight cars on a siding. A car packed with crated machinery from Hungary caught his eye. From a knothole in one big crate, a finger beckoned. The inspector hurried over to the crate. Inside it a hoarse voice whispered: "Thirst, thirst." When police broke open the crate a young, dirty-bearded man, too weak even to stand, fell out into their arms.
At police headquarters the stranger told his story: He was a 28-year-old Hungarian named Imre...
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