Armageddon_ A Novel of Berlin - Leon Uris [74]
“On the contrary, Major O’Sullivan. You have earned the position as their father and their leader. Those are two things a German understands. You see for yourself how well they obey you. Once the German is defeated he is quite manageable.”
“But they don’t even know what the hell I was talking about.”
“I think you are far too impatient, Major. We may be ancient in our traditions but we are infants in the democratic experience. Our first venture with a republic, the Weimar, ended in disaster. The subtleties of democratic process are beyond their comprehension.”
“But they do understand father and obedience. So we’re in for another cycle of it when another father leads them to destruction.”
Falkenstein straightened up a bit. “You conveniently forget the great things the German people have given the world. These are the Germans I love and believe in. This is the Germany I fight for.”
Sean was tempted to argue the point. Yes, there were great contributions in literature and music and science. However, there had never been a lasting German ideal of freedom and damned few of the dignity of man. Even their greatest reformer, Martin Luther, was a dogmatic tyrant. And here, Ulrich Falkenstein, who had suffered untold brutality at the hands of this society, stubbornly refused to give up his identity or his faith. It was admirable nonsense to Sean. To believe so strongly was good; but it was beyond any man’s vision to feel the German people would change. They both sensed the conversation had hit an impasse.
“We all fear,” Falkenstein broke the ice, “that you have committed your last official act in Rombaden?”
“That may be so,” Sean said.
“That would be a shame. You have been hard but you have never been unfair. You see, Major O’Sullivan, there are subtleties of democracy that even I cannot comprehend. For example, why does a man of your stature throw away a brilliant career in the protection of an Emma Stoll?”
“It seems to me, Heir Falkenstein, that is a strangely put question from one who was convicted by a Hitler court.”
“Surely you do not intend to compare me to Emma Stoll.”
“Of course not. But I do challenge a Hitler court to exist in the name of my country.”
“It is a pity you won’t be going to Berlin with me when I am able to. Frankly, we both have a lot to learn. On the other hand, I have a feeling that you don’t really want to know that there are good Germans.”
Sean shot him an angry glance, then stifled his anger. “You said yourself, I have been fair.”
“Fair, yes. Like a dog trainer. But even an animal can smell when he is hated.”
“Herr Falkenstein,” he said, “I have written a full report for the incoming commander in case someone other than Captain Duquesne is selected. I have strongly recommended that he place full trust in you in all matters.”
They shook hands with great reservation and completely without affection. Yet, an undeniable mutual admiration existed between the two men.
“Good luck, Major,” Falkenstein said, and left the great hall.
And then, Sean was alone.
Sean found himself wandering through a maze of narrow streets. He had arranged that there would be no farewells, no sentimentality. In the morning he would leave, supposedly on a routine trip to Supreme Headquarters ... no more, no less.
A battalion of laborers, prisoners of war, with Polish guards hacked into the endless rubble piles at one of the intersections. As they saw the commander the Germans stopped their work for an instant, stared, doffed their caps, and bowed as he passed. The Poles greeted him with formal salutes and smiles, but Sean was oblivious to them.
Now was the time to make one’s balance sheet. There could be a balance sheet for Liam and Timothy O’Sullivan. There was one for Nan Milford ... losses, gains, happiness, sadness. But there would be no balance for either