First Paragraph

The wheel had begun to turn. On a Sunday in September, 1935, in a south German city, it was moving, slowly and subtly, as if some sinister hand had caressed it into motion. The platz was full of uniforms, ill-fitting earth-coloured Sturmabteilung ones, red and black Nazi banners, and pinch-faced civilians. The crowd was dispersing from the rally. The raucous speeches were over and forgotten, the bands had marched away, the public address system was being dismantled. Already the streetlights were on. Clouds were scudding in low from the west, promising rain and a premature nightfall.

- From The Eye of the Abyss by Marshall Browne