Anguish of woman who held secret evidence of Hitler's identity: "In the smouldering ruins of Berlin, Elena Rzhevskaya stooped by a radio to hear the announcement of the Nazis' final capitulation, a small box clutched to her side... Tucked in the satin-lined box she was clutching were the flesh-specked jawbones of Adolf Hitler, wrenched from his corpse just hours earlier by a Russian pathologist... On 8 May, as Soviet soldiers in Berlin's streets shouted with joy at the news of German surrender, Rzhevskaya poured wine for her colleagues with one hand - while clamping the little box to her side with the other."
I wish the article were longer--say, a novel of political intrigue--because I am drawn in already. But I guess I already know how the story ends. And it's not necessarily a romance.
