Armageddon_ A Novel of Berlin - Leon Uris [198]
Hazzard appointed an umpire to replace him, announced his regrets, and went off with Sean, speeding directly to Hansen’s office.
When they entered, General Hansen had just concluded unsuccessful attempts to reach Marshal Popov and General Trepovitch. The Russians were “not available.” Colonel Mark Parrott, commander of the American garrison, was present. He told them a company of Russian infantry crossed into the American Sector a half hour earlier, evicted all the German workers from the Railroad Administration Building, ran up a Red flag and stood guard.
The three officers looked to the general; there was no time to procrastinate. Either they had to respond immediately or accept it as an accomplished feat.
“Move in your troops, Mark, cut the area off. Don’t shoot first, but if they try to send in relief, open fire.”
Neal Hazzard beamed.
The staff car bearing him and Sean O’Sullivan barreled through the streets, sirens screaming. It slowed at Friedenau Platz, where a crowd had gathered. Sean ordered everyone off the streets, then walked toward the building with Hazzard. They were blocked by a submachine-gun-toting Red Army soldier at the door.
“I want to see the officer in charge,” Hazzard said.
The soldier shrugged and pointed the gun at them. They turned and recrossed the street. In a matter of moments Mark Parrott pulled up with several truckloads of soldiers and quickly dispersed them so that the building was cut off.
Inside, Colonel Igor Karlovy watched the American movement on the street. He picked up a telephone to call Russian Headquarters. The line seemed dead. In another instant an aide confirmed that the Americans had cut the telephone wires.
“Colonel Hazzard is approaching the building again. This time he has a dozen soldiers around him.”
“I will see him, myself,” Igor said. He went downstairs and stood at the entrance. Neal Hazzard told his escort to stand fast and walked with Sean to the Russian.
“I know him. Let me talk to him, Neal.”
“Go ahead.”
“Afternoon, Colonel Karlovy,” Sean said. “What are you people up to?”
“This is the property of the Soviet Union!”
“It’s two miles inside the American Sector. How do you figure?”
“The location is only a technicality.”
“Go on.”
“The Kommandatura agreement states that all railroad operations in Brandenburg Province are to be run by the Soviet Union.”
“That is correct.”
“This building is the administration headquarters of the railroad system and therefore legally within Soviet jurisdiction.”
“In a pig’s ass,” Neal Hazzard cut in. “Here’s your situation. No one is going to enter this area. You are, however, permitted to leave and return to the Russian Sector. If you want to stay here, you can starve to death. That’s your business. If there is any attempt to bring troops in, you’re going to get blasted. My people have orders to open fire at the sight of Russian troops.” Hazzard left.
Igor smiled at Sean. “So, we meet again. I see you have come up in the world. Well ... one day you seize American Headquarters, one day we seize the railroad building. It balances out.”
“There’s a difference,” Sean said.
“What is that, my friend?”
“We’re not bluffing.”
The reopening of the State Opera was a great event in Berlin. The partly reconstructed Opera House was located on the Unter Den Linden in the Russian Sector. The Soviet high command hosted the evening.
General and Agnes Hansen sat as guests of Marshal Popov in a box shared with British General Fitz-Roy and French General de Lys and their wives. In the opposite box Neal and Claire Hazzard and the other commandants were guests of General and Mrs. Trepovitch.
Representatives of the State Department and of the foreign ministries were there. The diplomatic corps of seventeen Allies were there. Leading German Communists were there.... It was a glittering affair.
The opera chosen for the event was Verdi’s Nabucco, appropriate for this night because it had been banned during the Hitler years because of its Jewish theme.
A splendid party followed the opera, during which not a single