The Cloverleaf Nails

The instrument room of a surgical clinic in Kiel on an autumn night, dark blue paper fixed over the windows, a single shaded lamp above a white tiled bench, on it a cream cotton roll bag laid open, stained and worn, with long rows of narrow pockets, plain from edge to edge, in them high-polished steel nails with a cloverleaf cross-section and a slot along their length, the longest forty-four centimetres, one slightly bent, the thinnest eight centimetres, small eyelets at their ends, a hand drawing one long gleaming nail from its pocket, beside the bag a nickel sterilising drum, a steel hammer and a slender steel driving rod.