The Last Speech - Hewitt, L W
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He stepped into view along the Tea House trail below the Berghof. The uniform was right. The cap was right. He could not see his face. A German Shepard bounced along beside him, into and out of the woods, the early November air crisp and clean, a smattering of snow filtering through the trees. Secretary Bormann stood with him ... as the crosshairs zeroed in. One more step ... and the course of the war will disintegrate into chaos. The man turned and looked right at him - the mustache, the face. He squeezed the trigger ... was it the right face?

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Produktbeschreibung
He stepped into view along the Tea House trail below the Berghof. The uniform was right. The cap was right. He could not see his face. A German Shepard bounced along beside him, into and out of the woods, the early November air crisp and clean, a smattering of snow filtering through the trees. Secretary Bormann stood with him ... as the crosshairs zeroed in. One more step ... and the course of the war will disintegrate into chaos. The man turned and looked right at him - the mustache, the face. He squeezed the trigger ... was it the right face?
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Autorenporträt
I have coffee most every morning at my "office" - a small table in a 1920s style restaurant and hotel called the Olympic Club in Centralia, Washington. Visitors assume I work there, some think I am the manager. I direct people to the bathrooms - the urinals in this place are a tourist attraction all by themselves. This is where I write. The chaos and atmosphere prep me for the day, and everyone in town knows if you need to talk to me, just drop by the "Oly Club."Most don't know I have a master's degree in business, and ran my own technology company for over twenty-five of my last forty working years. I won a national championship on horseback, raced sailboats, wrestled octopus, baby-sat a killer whale, and once was a cook on a salmon purse seiner. I cherish my role as author-in-residence, or that crazy guy at the table by the urinals - it depends on your perspective.