Armageddon_ A Novel of Berlin - Leon Uris [47]
“Haven’t we all? It is a pity, none the less. Berliners are different. They were never truly Nazis.”
Sean could not cover his shock at what seemed to be a strange pronouncement.
“You look amazed, Major.”
“I am, in the light of what has happened to you, Herr Falkenstein. Not a German in Rombaden thinks of himself as anything but an innocent bystander. You left Berlin in 1935. Perhaps it was too early to realize that the Nazis truly carried out the will of the German people.”
“But, Major ... I also am a German.”
“A unique German.”
Falkenstein shrugged. “But, no matter how you dissect me, I am a German. Perhaps I am one of those ‘good’ Germans, but that does not make me English or French. Furthermore, my dear Major, I believe I know more from firsthand experience about German weakness and German sickness than you do. It still does not make me less of a German.”
“It sounds incongruous coming from Ulrich Falkenstein after nine years in Schwabenwald.”
“Let us say I have had ample opportunities and forceful persuasion to give up hope on the German people. What you say is true, in part. Most of the so-called ‘good’ Germans died in places like Schwabenwald. But now, what happens if those of us who are left turn our backs on the German people?”
The revelation of Ulrich Falkenstein’s stubborn beliefs was annoying and frightening. Yet, Sean could not help but admire this man who had suffered so brutally, yet retained his identity.
“So you see, I must get back to Berlin.”
Was this better or worse than those Germans who had fled the Nazis and now worked with military government? Those Germans who hated their country and their own people, who turned on all things German with savagery ... sought revenge ... detested their Germanness? How easy it would be now for Falkenstein to join that now fashionable anti-German clique. He was instead choosing the way of a missionary among the lepers. Sean knew the Nazis could not beat Falkenstein’s love of the people from him. Yet, in Falkenstein he had an adversary, not a puppet. Still, he made their choice.
“It will be a long time before you are able to return to Berlin. Meanwhile, your services here with us are sorely needed.”
“I will work with you, Major, if you will remember that I am German and my first duty is not to Allied victory but to the redemption of the people.”
Chapter Twenty-one
SEAN WAS DISTURBED BY the worsening scene that played below his office in the square. A dozen or more wildly drunken Poles were howling, hurling bottles against buildings, urinating in the streets, scuffling.
“We’ve got to put a stop to this before it gets out of hand,” Sean said, turning into his office and facing Blessing, Maurice Duquesne, and Bolinski.
“Shucks now, Major,” Blessing soothed, “we’ve got to use us a little Kentucky windage in our thinking. Some of them poor fellers have been locked up for four or five years.”
“We have more complaints than we can keep track of.”
“Why hell, they’re just celebrating a little. Don’t take very much to liquor them up. We’ll sweep them off the streets at curfew.”
“And what do you intend to do about the looting and the beatings?”
“Well, so they broke into some German shops and homes. They’ve got a lot to get out of their systems,” Blessing pleaded.
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
The celebration had been particularly rowdy today. A large, untapped wine cellar had been stumbled upon. A monumental binge followed. The streets were empty of terrified Germans.
“It’s not that I have any desire to protect Germans,” Sean said, “but our own authority will break down if we let the Poles go unchallenged.”
“They’re good people,” Bolinski said. “They are what is left out of maybe a hundred thousand who passed through Schwabenwald. Less than a thousand of them left, Major. Every morning they were awakened at five o’clock, given a bowl of watery broth, and marched from the camp to the Machine Works. Six miles, two hundred and thirty yards, sixteen feet and nine inches. Anyone who fell down was jumped on by the dogs. The last men pulled carts