Armageddon_ A Novel of Berlin - Leon Uris [166]
“We have followed your work with great interest. You’ve done a hell of a job of putting the Democratic Party together.”
“Which may all prove in vain,” Ulrich answered. “We always spoke to each other straight-out in Rombaden, Major O’Sullivan.”
“Shoot.”
“The Communists are trying to force us into a political union. It is an old trick.”
“We know all about it,” Sean said.
“Good. Now, what do you intend to do?”
“Nothing.”
“I have always known the Americans are naive.” He held up his hand to stop a retort. “How long do you expect the free parties to survive?”
“Officially, we have to consider this a German family affair.”
“Nonsense. The Communists are no more German than you are. They are men with German names being backed up by Russians guns. How do you conclude it is a German affair?”
“Herr Falkenstein, freedom is not something that can be presented to you, compliments of America, in a neatly wrapped package.”
“Your country has never been exposed to the ugly facts of life we face.”
“I challenge that, Herr Falkenstein. We won our spurs in a bloody Civil War and we have fought the German people twice in a lifetime because of ideas.”
“Do you really think then that you can stay here and keep from getting your hands dirty? I am telling you how this works. I have seen the terror before and it is all coming back. The Action Squads used to be called Brownshirts and there is no difference, sir, between the NKVD and the Gestapo. They will single out weak men, break their spirit, convert them. The slogans and speeches are all the same. You Americans have to know there are Germans here who speak for the West and you cannot conveniently turn your backs on us.”
Sean knew what was taking place. But how many were there like Falkenstein, ready to stand up and be counted?
“The fact of life is this, Herr Falkenstein. I could not convince a single man in authority to trust a German politician no matter what label. We do not believe in your people.”
A dull throb pained Falkenstein’s chest. His voice grew harsh. “You are making a grave, grave mistake.”
“Are we? If you truly believed in the courage of your people, you would not come running for help at the first threat. You know they are weak, but your freedom is not something to be handed you at the end of an American bayonet. If we are ever to be convinced, it will be because you earn it with the blood of men willing to die.”
Falkenstein was sallow. “Seeing all this happen again is like being an observer at your own funeral. I plead with you, make a gesture so I can rally my party.”
“You told me the first day we met in Rombaden that Berliners are different.”
“They are! This is the birthplace of free thought!”
“It is also the birthplace of Prussian militarism. Sure, Berliners are different They just happen to like a parade.”
Ulrich Falkenstein pulled himself to his feet heavily. Tears welled in his eyes. “You will see!”
Chapter Thirteen
A MEETING OF THE Democratic Party was licensed by the Soviet Union to be held deep inside the Russian Sector for the purpose of voting on the anti-Fascist front referendum.
The site selected was the Lichtenberg Workman’s Hall, suitable because of only minor bomb damage.
Sean O’Sullivan arrived as a curious observer along with Nelson Goodfellow Bradbury, the sole Americans. They drove with a German named Lenz who worked in American Headquarters. As they neared the Workman’s Hall they were all quick to spot police from the SND, designation for Special Nazi Detachment. The SND was, in fact, Adolph Schatz’s hand-picked political police, the new Gestapo. The SND was augmented by Russian NKVD observing every route to the Workman’s Hall.
Sean was there early as the first of over a thousand delegates filtered in from all parts of Berlin. Ulrich Falkenstein was engulfed by old friends, most of whom he had not seen in a decade. His drowsy eyes found Sean and he nodded coolly; Sean returned the nod.
Lenz pointed out that among the early arrivals were members of Communist Action Squads who scattered through the hall in prearranged