Armageddon_ A Novel of Berlin - Leon Uris [116]
“Many of our recommendations have been rejected,” Heinrich Hirsch said sharply.
“Let us take the transfer of railroad cars as an example. You deleted it,” Azov said.
“I am certain,” Igor answered, “the Commissar is aware there is a different gauge in the German and Soviet rail systems that make their rolling stock useless to us. With our transport and distribution problems the rail cars have better use in Germany.”
Azov nodded that the point was well taken. “However,” he said drolly, “the German and Polish rail systems are compatible. Our Polish comrades have suffered untold brutality at the hands of the Nazi beasts. The Lublin People’s Committee for a Free and Democratic Poland have asked us to help them in rebuilding their shattered homeland. Delivery of the rail stock in the Brandenburg Province will be among the first Polish reparations.”
Igor pretended to study his folio in order to give himself time to decipher the true meaning of Azov’s rhetoric. Dozens of such conferences had taught him not to be taken by a surprise announcement of policy. What he unscrambled was that the Lublin Poles had been installed to run the country.
“It poses a technical problem,” Igor said carefully.
“Which is?”
“The Brandenburg Province, and Berlin in particular, has never been self-sustaining in food even in the best of days. Furthermore, food surplus must come from eastern German provinces. This means we need rail stock. Also, I have studied the draft of our agreement with the Americans and British. As I interpret it, the immediate areas around Berlin are responsible for feeding the city. This will all be impossible without freight cars.”
Azov tapped his fingers on the tabletop, digesting Igor Karlovy’s line of logic. Wöhlman looked from one to another, not daring to venture an opinion at this point.
“Your interpretation of the treaty with the Western Allies is incorrect,” Azov said. “The Americans and British must feed their own sectors of Berlin from their own sources. Therefore, we will be responsible for feeding less than a third of the city.”
Again, Igor tried to separate political implications from realities. Azov’s words, which were official policy, said that Russia would find a way to break the treaty. America and Britain would be compelled to bring in food from a distance of at least two hundred kilometers, if not from overseas. Furthermore, Berlin depended upon coal for industrial power from the Ruhr. The loss of freight cars was obviously intended to place such a burden on the Western Allies that it might be impossible for them to stay in Berlin. Igor nodded that he understood. “Certainly our Polish comrades should have the rolling stock,” he said. “I will reevaluate the situation at once.”
Next Azov listed several classifications of machinery which had been omitted from the report.
“The machinery you speak of,” he answered, “cannot be integrated into the Soviet system. It is useless to us. Furthermore, it will take tens of thousands of man hours to dismantle it and move it by rail and unload it for the sole purpose of letting it rust in depots. It is an expensive waste of both rail space and man power.”
“However, Comrade Colonel,” Azov came back with “policy,” “even if the machinery is valueless to us it has great value to the Germans, particularly if they entertain the notion of a war of revenge against the Soviet Union.”
Wöhlman now felt safe in handing Azov a list. He cleared his throat. “I call your attention to the recommendations of the German People’s Liberation Committee in paragraph twenty-two, which we presented to you as far back as Warsaw. You have not included them, Comrade Colonel.”
This coming from Rudi Wöhlman was too much. For an instant Igor almost lost his composure. He felt like shouting, “What the hell side are you on, Wöhlman? Are you a German or not?” Of course, he said nothing, stifling his anger with a slight smile.
Colonel Karlovy knew the notorious paragraph twenty-two from memory. It listed the removal of Berlin’s toilets, sinks, doorknobs, window sashes,