Armageddon_ A Novel of Berlin - Leon Uris [53]
One home, formerly belonging to the owner of the riverboat and barge yard, was named the “old people’s home,” a dubious honor to its occupants, the senior members of the team: Tidings, the banker, Trueblood, the curator, Hickman, the agricultural economist, Sam Alterman, the communications expert, Maurice Duquesne, and Dr. Geoffrey Grimwood.
No one worked, or was expected to, the hours of the commander, except for Geoffrey Grimwood, who never saw his suite or, for that matter, bothered to move into it.
Grimwood took a room in the hospital so that he might have constant command of the hourless struggle to save the lives of the Schwabenwald inmates. Most of the 3000 patients in the hospital and cathedral were on the brink of death, with few resources to combat the effects of starvation and a half-dozen other death-bearing diseases.
Grimwood waged tireless battle for every life. With but marginal knowledge of starvation and its side effects he had kept the death rate under 10 per cent There was a direct line open to a camp called Bergen-Belsen, where the British Army had run into another and larger situation much like Schwabenwald.
It was long past midnight when Sean called it quits in his office. He drove down the square to the hospital and found Grimwood bleary-eyed at his desk. They revived themselves with a transfusion of coffee.
The Englishman wiped his eyes and focused them on a pocket watch. “Oh, good Lord. I’ve missed the staff meeting.”
“The board of directors of Rombaden Ltd. reports that the situation is still crapped up.”
“How is the plumbing?”
Sean searched his weary mind. “Hank Greenberg gave me a figure in cubic meters. I can’t remember it. He says he can get the distillation plant in partial operation in about a week and triple the water ration.”
“Sewage?”
Sean shook his head. “The main generator was hit. We have no replacement parts. How goes the war here?”
Grimwood held up two crossed fingers. “We’re giving it a go.”
Sean walked to the glass separation, which looked out to a ward. “I can’t believe it yet. Death factories. Murder on an assembly-line basis.”
“It’s the children out there who break one’s heart. Poor little tykes. Most remember no life other than Schwabenwald. Just about their only contact with humanity is the fierce loyalty they have for one another ... but love is a new experience to them. Can you imagine a child of ten who doesn’t know how to smile? We may be able to mend their bodies ... but their minds? Lord knows I’ve seen enough famine in India. But this! The hand of fellow man.”
“Haven’t you heard, Doc. There was no Schwabenwald. It never really happened.”
Grimwood grunted with irony. “I should be able to deliver a memorable paper to the Royal Academy on starvation.”
Sean looked slyly at the Englishman. “How about delivering a paper on hijacking medical supplies while you’re at it?”
Grimwood nearly choked on his coffee. “What the devil ...”
“If prohibition ever comes back to the States I’m nominating you to lead a gang of bootleggers.”
“Damn it all, Major. We have three thousand desperately ill people. I can’t wait for forms in triplicate to be acted upon.”
Sean held up his hand. “Hold it. We’re on the same team. I’ve got nothing against using Kentucky windage. Only let me know what you’re doing. The surgeon general nailed me on the phone this morning.”
Grimwood huffed a laugh through his moustache. “Here I thought I was being devilishly clever.” He reached across his desk and touched Sean’s sleeve. “Major ... I’ve got grandchildren the age of some of those little tykes out there. We can’t stand on formalities.”
Sean nodded that he understood.
“And what the devil do I do about personnel? I can’t use the Germans ... even those you didn’t imprison. Doctors, indeed! So we have six doctors for three thousand dying.”
“I’m trying like hell to get you more.”
“I’ve been thinking it over,” Grimwood said coyly. “Castle Romstein is sitting empty except for that old spook Trueblood rambling about evaluating the art pieces. A hundred and twenty-two rooms. It would make a lovely