Armageddon_ A Novel of Berlin - Leon Uris [137]
These were, indeed, the ugly facts of life.
“Fine,” Stonebraker said, “we’re in Berlin. Maybe someday we’ll know why. We’ve seen what happens to our convoys. You’d better prepare for an alternate route.”
“Where?”
“In the air. Define air corridors from our zone to Berlin, put it on paper, make it part of the Potsdam Agreement.”
“How can we justify it without getting them heated up?”
Crusty Stonebraker gave a craggy smile. “Tell the Russians it’s for their own good. We all need an air-safety setup because of the volume of traffic. They’ll buy it now. They won’t in a year.”
Hansen didn’t like it Air lanes were foolish. It was a part of Crusty Stonebraker’s vanity.
A knock on the door brought Hansen’s orderly. A sealed envelope was delivered from Russian Marshal Alexei Popov. As Hansen read, the others detected the urgency. He looked from Hazzard to Stonebraker, read aloud. “This is to advise you that the Americans will not be permitted to take possession of the six boroughs of Berlin tomorrow, as previously discussed. It is felt by the Soviet High Command that there must be a formal written agreement and the establishment of a four-power council first. Signed, Marshal Alexei Popov.”
“All right Crusty. Draw up a plan for air lanes. Neal, bring O’Sullivan up here. He’s going to get an opportunity to find out if the comrades are bluffing or not.”
Chapter Two
ANDREW JACKSON HANSEN, HIRAM Stonebraker, and Neal Hazzard all looked down to the Kaserne courtyard. They saw Sean O’Sullivan and Blessing get into the touring car with two enlisted men.
Hansen looked at his watch. It was seven in the morning. This hour was picked because he knew the Russian command didn’t come to life and function until around noon.
The motor chugged, fought the brisk cold, roared into life. The car was stopped at the gate by a drowsy Russian guard. Sean showed him an order signed by Hansen directing Sean to Tempelhof Airdrome to pick up an incoming VIP. The Russian was impressed by the big car and passed it through.
In a few moments three jeeploads of men passed through the gate, ostensibly on routine missions to Berlin.
During the two weeks of his semiconfinement in the Babelsberg Kaserne, Colonel Hazzard kept as many vehicles as possible moving in and out of Berlin for as many reasons as he could invent without rousing Russian suspicion. The vehicles were dispatched along a variety of routes and, whenever possible, photographed the streets until Hazzard’s master map became studded with information. Ordinary Russian troops seldom challenged them for they seemed to hold an equal fear of cameras and maps.
Sean sped along the southern rim of the Wannsee Lake into the Grunewald, whose enormous acreage comprised a great part of the land in the western districts of Berlin.
The forest had not suffered too much war damage and in the morning mist the greenery shielded the sight of the horror of Berlin. He ran parallel to the smaller chain of lakes that bordered the forest and at the crossing waited. In a few moments the other three jeeps arrived from different directions at the rendezvous.
They bisected the forest on Onkel Tom Strasse, turned into Argentine Allee, coming out directly before a magnificent complex of administrative buildings. It had been part of the Hitler Barracks and served as Luftwaffe Headquarters for the Central Germany Command. The Luft Gau buildings and barracks fringed the woods, showed little damage for it had been selected as the future American Headquarters.
Blessing pointed to a central building in the complex with a convenient flag pole on the lawn before it. The area was void of life. Sean waved the convoy in, raised the American flag to the top of the mast, and posted a large hand-painted sign on the front door in English, German, and Russian.
ATTENTION: THIS IS THE PROPERTY OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA AND HEREBY DESIGNATED AS HEADQUARTERS