Armageddon_ A Novel of Berlin - Leon Uris [158]
“In the last sixty days,” Bolinski said, “we have arrested or apprehended six hundred Soviet soldiers in the American Sector. Over five hundred of these arrests resulted with us taking back your soldiers to your sector for drunk or disorderly conduct. However, we have made a hundred arrests in the major crime category and have, in addition, another hundred German complaints of unsolved cases. To date no American soldier has been arrested in the Russian Sector for rape, armed robbery, or murder.”
Trepovitch turned hot under the collar. “We’ve been damned patient,” Neal Hazzard said. “It is a miracle that more of your people haven’t been killed. This homicide was in self-defense and entirely justified. Your people are going to have to learn that six boroughs of Berlin are under protection of the American flag.”
The Frenchman sensed that Trepovitch had been paid back double. “I suggest that a neutral committee of ourselves and the British investigate the charges.”
“Neutral! You are both hirelings of the Americans!”
This brought the expected outburst from both Blatty and the Frenchman.
Hazzard knew the Russian was being pressed too far. The points had been won and a face-saving settlement was all that was needed. “Gentlemen,” he shouted over the oratory, “inasmuch as this matter concerns ourselves and the Soviet Union, I suggest that we be allowed to work it out ourselves.”
These were the right words at the right moment.
The Kommandatura returned to the business of Berlin’s missing dairy herd, and, after four hours of argument, ended in a deadlock.
Later that evening they all met with their staffs at the French Headquarters, the Napoleon Quarters, for the banquet traditionally given by the outgoing chairman. This month, however, the French were to take their first turn as chairman and Colonel Belfort was allowed the honors.
The Americans gave the most austere of the receptions, the Russians the most lavish. British liquor was excellent although the food poorly prepared.
Now, Jacques Belfort was determined to give Trepovitch a run for his money. The spread was lavish and flanked with the finest French wines and champagnes. All was harmony again. There were toasts to Allied unity and brotherhood.
Colonel Trepovitch, whose English had deserted him earlier, found it again. He cornered Neal Hazzard as the entertainment got under way.
“Confidentially,” the Russian said, “we are not so concerned with the shootings. There are some ruffled feathers in our command.”
Hazzard nodded. It was an opening gambit for some down to earth horse trading. A platter of paté de fois gras, France’s answer to Trepovitch’s pounds of caviar, passed between them.
The Russian continued. “A note from the Americans would smooth a lot of things out, particularly to the Germans.”
“A note might be possible.”
“In exchange for approval of the nomination of Hans Kronbach?” Trepovitch said.
“Quite likely.”
What Hazzard did not know was that a quick line was drawn on Kronbach by the Russians. Hirsch, Wöhlman, Eck, and Schatz all struck an attitude that anyone who was as anti-Nazi as Kronbach was automatically sympathetic to the Soviet Union. In their basic philosophy, the West and the Nazis were similar inasmuch as both were enemies of the Soviet Union. Kronbach was anti-Nazi and, therefore, pro-Soviet
Trepovitch passed on Hans Kronbach’s appointment to deputy police president. Neal Hazzard read a note regretting the death of the Russian soldiers.
A new attitude of respect was visible by the behavior of Russian soldiers visiting the American Sector. Russian crime halted.
The surprise at the next meeting of the Kommandatura was not the quick agreement, but that Nikolai Trepovitch returned promoted to the rank of brigadier general, a notch higher than his Western counterparts. The meaning was obvious.
Chapter Eleven
ON THE HIGHWAYS, THE RAIL lines, the canal ways into Berlin the warning was posted: keep OUT OF BERLIN! BERLIN IS FORBIDDEN!
The hundreds of thousands of refugees pouring east to west