Chapter 11
“He didn't suffer. He never saw it coming.”
On the quay at Cherbourg, a twenty-four-year-old interpreter wrote down in pencil the name of a seaman nobody would ever look for. And among the bodies laid out in rows, a hand moved.
You know why Tommy went down into the hold, what Jef saw when he turned around on the overturned hull, and why Captain Harlan's third column won't close.
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