Armageddon_ A Novel of Berlin - Leon Uris [118]
Hirsch struck back immediately. “In all candor Comrade Colonel, this continued rape can only diminish the stature of the Red Army regardless of the provocations. Both Marx and Lenin have pointed out that in order for us to successfully carry out world revolution we must first have the support of a socialist German working class.”
“The German working class will be rebuilt after every vestige of the Nazi is purged from him.”
“But, Comrade Colonel, I raise the question of whether our soldiers are discriminating between Nazis and non-Nazis in their ... er ... sport. Certainly the rape of a ten-year-old girl will do nothing to induce the Germans to accept the Soviet way of life.”
“There are bound to be a few mistakes,” Igor answered weakly.
“A few hundred thousand is more like it. Colonel Karlovy, I dare this conversation with you out of mutual love of the Soviet Union. I have begged Comrade Wöhlman to speak to Azov. The fact of the matter is that Wöhlman at times appears to be more intent on pleasing the commissars and keeping in their good graces than he is of representing the new Germany. If these abuses are allowed to continue it must end in earning the everlasting hatred of the German people and it must sow the seeds of a war of revenge. You are a hero of the Soviet Union in a position to exert pressure. Many Red Army officers are disgusted with the events in Berlin.”
Igor was now terribly uncomfortable. They had emerged from the forest and were moving toward the wreckage of central Berlin. Igor knew nothing could stop the rape and looting except orders from Azov. Acts of “individualism” was just the type of thing that killed half the officer corps off during the purges. “Comrade Hirsch, many things you have said to me could bring you grave consequences. For this time alone, I will forget you ever opened your mouth.”
Heinrich Hirsch stared at Igor. There was no more to be said. They reached the Brandenburg Gate, where the red flag hung limply atop the monument to former German victories, and crossed beneath to the Unter Den Linden. The avenue of former grandeur was perhaps the most horrible in all of Berlin with its massive gutted shells. Hirsch asked to be let out.
“I’m sorry I spoke to you, Colonel Karlovy,” he said. “I was gravely mistaken. I thought you were different.”
Igor, smarting from the last remark, watched Hirsch go off. He gripped the wheel of the car tightly ... damned bastard!
He was wearing thin with the whole mess in Berlin. And now, this business of stripping toilets. What the hell, political decisions were not handed down for discussion. As one who was trained in the days of the purges, Igor knew how to go into mental vacuums. The officers’ training created situations to compel the men to inform on each other. Spying was an accepted way of life. One had to be careful not to form lasting friendships for he could never tell when the most innocent complaint would be twisted against him. Spying kept minds alert and prevented cliques of military deviationists from forming.
Despite this conditioning Igor Karlovy was reachable. There were memories to haunt him. Always at a time like this the ghost and the voice of Peter Egorov was heard. He drove back to his house, forgetting his work, locking his door behind him, drinking quickly to drown out the memory of Peter.
He lay on his bed and the sweat began to form in cold beads. Damn you Peter Egorov! Damn you! Why did you do it? Will you leave me in peace! You know you were a fool ... you know that.
More vodka ... yes, more vodka to burn away the memory.
Lieutenant Peter Egorov and Feodor Guchkov were the favorites of Colonel Karlovy. All of the young engineers looked to Igor as their idol during the siege of Leningrad.
His ingenuity, bravery, and bravado had become legend. What was more, Colonel Karlovy was not a party member. Things in his command were relaxed. Members of his immediate staff were like family. What a hell of a time they had, the three of them. Loving, fighting, and drinking. Igor, Feodor, and Peter Egorov.
What a brilliant young