Armageddon_ A Novel of Berlin - Leon Uris [139]
“The minute I leave this office you will have condemned your soldiers to oblivion!”
Crusty Stonebraker looked up slowly. “Marshal,” he said, “we are going to have to live with each other for a long time. You’ve got to start learning to say please.”
Popov’s anger grew, but he knew how to conceal it. “For the sake of the lives of your innocent soldiers, I request an interview with General Hansen.”
“In that case, sir, come right in.”
“Morning, Marshal Popov,” Hansen said. “What brings you out so early?”
He looked from Stonebraker to Hansen, regained his threadbare temper, and tried to understand the situation. His confidence had wavered. The Americans were bluffing, he knew ... yet, they were not the kind to risk lives on such a gambit. What was behind it?
“Why do you push me to force my hand,” he said.
“We are only asserting our rights in Berlin,” Hansen answered.
“There is no formal agreement!”
“How about the Brandenburg Agreement?”
“The what?”
“The same crap you have been using to harass our convoys and to keep us locked up here,” Hansen said. “The game works two ways, Marshal Popov.”
“I assure you I am not bluffing.”
Hansen looked at his watch deliberately. “In a half hour, American troops are scheduled to begin evacuation of Saxony and Thuringia. If you are advising me we are not entitled to take physical control of our six boroughs of Berlin, I am advising you that American forces will remain in those provinces.”
Popov’s physical and strategic advantage was leveled. His decision held implications too vast. He was faced with a fait accompli. He smiled warmly, and became amazingly friendly as he picked up the phone and ordered his troops out of western Berlin.
When Popov had left and confirmation of the Russian withdrawal phoned in and the guards in the Kaserne lifted, Hansen allowed the luxury of a sigh of relief.
“O’Sullivan is a smart young man,” Stonebraker said.
“I guess we all learned something today, Crusty.”
The phone rang and Hansen answered. It was Lieutenant General Hartly Fitz-Roy, the British Military Governor of Germany who called from the other wing of the Kaserne.
“I say, Hansen. What the devil are you chaps up to. You can’t take unilateral action like that, you know. Here, we have already set up negotiation meetings with the Russians.”
“Negotiations are finished. You can occupy your boroughs at once.”
“Can’t do that. We need all our troops to welcome the Prime Minister for the conference.” He continued to protest American rashness.
Hansen shook his head when the conversation ended. “Sometimes I think I understand the Russians, but I’ll be goddamned if I’ll ever understand the British.”
Chapter Three
ERNESTINE ANSWERED THE KNOCK. She pushed against the makeshift board that served as a door until it gave enough to see an older-appearing man. He was large, a bit stooped, and seemed tired. She studied him curiously. “Yes? What is it you wish?”
“Falkenstein?”
“Yes.”
“May I come in?”
The voice drew on her memory. She pushed the board open wider. “Are you ... my uncle? Are you Ulrich?”
“I am.”
“I am Ernestine.”
“You? Little Ernestine?”
“I am very happy to know you are alive. Please come in.” Bruno’s eyes widened at the sight of his brother, he arose slowly, backed up. “You! he whispered harshly. “You!” Ulrich! Alive!”
“Quite.”
“But ... but ... but .. .”
“You need not fear, brother. I am thoroughly decontaminated.”
Bruno was distraught with confusion. “You! In Berlin!”
Herta Falkenstein kept her wits. She knew that he must be among the clean Germans and must have come in with the Amis. “You have never been out of our thoughts,” she said quickly. “Please forgive us, but you come as quite a shock.”
“Humpf.” He looked past the candlelight to where Hildegaard sat near her cot, puzzled. “You must be Hilde.”
Hilde did not know how to greet the man whose name had been spoken in curses from childhood memory. After long spells of silence her father raged that both of his brothers were traitors and their record limited his advancement in his bureau.