Armageddon_ A Novel of Berlin - Leon Uris [187]
In the Western Sectors the Grunewald and Tegel forest heard the ring of the ax as did the woods bordering the medieval section of the city at Spandau. In the Russian Sector the great State Forest on the Müggel toppled to the same fate.
When the Falkensteins were not at work they huddled around a single unit of warmth, a wood-kindled kitchen stove from turn of the century vintage, or they lay bundled beneath stacks of covering.
Ernestine was able to use her former legal training in obtaining a position in the Magistrat in the reorganization of the laws and courts. She worked for American jurists in the military government, which also kept her out of the physical cold a part of the day.
At home she tried in vain to bring her family back together. Hildegaard preyed on her mind always. She remained a regular at the Paris Cabaret, taking that sordid life as against the risks of the bitter weather and life outside. Hilde had a third case of gonorrhea and an abortion. Ernestine saw the arrogance fade from her sister. Hilde was the chattel of Stumpf, the mistress of Elke Handfest. Yet, despite it, the girl went into her twenty-first birthday with much of her early beauty.
Ernestine was unable to bear it any longer. Talks with Hilde had no effect. She went to her mother.
“I have suspected Hilde’s activities for a long time,” Herta said.
“Why in the name of God haven’t you done something?” Ernestine demanded.
“I tried to speak to her, but she will admit to nothing. She passes me off. Besides, in these times who is to say she is wrong? It will all pass in a few years.”
“Mother, we must do something for Hilde now. We can’t wait. She must be sent out of Berlin.”
“That is not possible without your father knowing why.”
“Of course, he will be told.”
Herta stood fast. “Your father must not know. He has enough troubles.”
Gerd Falkenstein proved to be energetic, industrious, and ingenious. These were the traits, he boasted, that had made the German people superior and God’s chosen.
With an old comrade and money from his father’s savings, Gerd was able to buy up several thousand surplus gas masks and convert the metal casings into pans and ladles. As his parents worked to support his enterprise, he received a license to reclaim rubble and with his partner rigged a device to resurface bricks and stone into standard sizes. Their operation was carried on in a patched-up shell of a small, bombed-out factory in Schöneberg Borough in the Ami Sector. He boasted openly that the family would stop working one day and return to the old standard of living.
While his ambition was commendable, Ernestine feared his other attitudes. One of his workers was found to be an ex-Nazi in the Waffen SS and she knew that Gerd had helped him escape to the British Zone of Germany, which was the most lax on de-Nazification.
There was more that worried Ernestine. Gerd tried to obtain a license to form a veterans’ organization, and when this was unsuccessful he continued to have weekly gatherings at his factory, where the old songs were sometimes sung and the exploits of the war recounted.
“There’s nothing wrong with getting together with a few old friends,” he told his sister. “Don’t take it so seriously.’’
Lieutenant Oakley Oakes of Frog Creek, Missouri, was one of the most anonymous and at the same time obnoxious officers in military government. He had not come out correctly. Oakley stood an insignificant five feet, five inches tall, had wiry hair, and a pocked face. His personality was equally homely. His singular achievement was matriculation at a university where he joined the ROTC and this eventually brought him a commission in the Army.
He worked in the ration-control section of the Steglitz Borough and, as such, gained a running knowledge of many German families.
As a social failure back home, he luxuriated in his new status in Berlin, bragging constantly about his “exploits,” to the boredom of fellow officers.
One day, in the winter of 1946, a new officer named