The jolt of pain slowly lurks up my spinal cord and yet it arrives with a sudden sharp cut right through my consciousness. Although still unresponsive...to my will, my mouth emanates a cry, not of pain but of need, need for more: more anguish, higher intensity.The next thwack comes with the spikes grazing over my skin, seemingly tearing it open, burning it, yet mending it again, leaving it unscathed for the next hit, the nerve endings fully receptive to the next blow. The burning of my skin. It was obvious that his name had been vilified in the popular press, and Lord Haw-Haw had made the most of his defection on his daily radio broadcasts. As he talked, the co-pilot had been attending to his wounds and had managed to stop the bleeding.On landing at an airfield in the south of England, he was met by two military policemen and escorted to the base hospital. An intelligence officer visited him, and he asked him to contact Mr. Broughton, at the Admiralty, and or Captain S/M at. More

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