The honour guard were gripping stretcher firmly, but they were taking great care not to disturb the white silk that had been tenderly draped over the body.
Everyone knew there was only one source of silk like that in the camp. It was the only source of silk like that in all Germany; it was a parachute. One of the prisoners had offered up the canopy that they had been saving since their capture.
A cloud of material much like this one had carried the dead man into captivity. Now it would cover him as he made his final exit.
The two officers led the honour guard out of the kommandant's quarters. The honour guard was following behind the officers, carefully out of step so that the body was not jostled.
The men waiting in the compound had snapped back to attention. Most of the men wore looks of solemn disbelief on their faces; these men hadn't known the camp was anything but ordinary until just days ago.
A few sombre faces were peering from behind half-closed shutters. Although most of these men had been too resentful to attend with the others, they had removed their caps to watch.
The German drummer started to tap out the slow tempo of a funeral dirge. The steady footsteps of the honour guard faltered for a moment as they readjusted to match the beats from the snare drum. Then they resumed, seamlessly merging into the drumbeat.
But aside from the drum and the muffled footsteps of the honour guard, the camp was quiet. Sounds that were usually lost in the bustle of humanity were loud in the silence. The ropes clanked loudly against the flagpole as the flag fluttered in the wind. The snow crunched softly beneath boots as men shifted their weight.