Armageddon - Leon Uris

Chapter Twenty-six

THE BERLINERS’ REJECTION OF Russian rations forced Marshal Popov to advance the timetable for the take-over of the city. They clamped down on the blockade runners, sending a half dozen of them to the firing squad. Harassment of Berliners at the checkpoints against the B marks reached a new high. And then an assault on the city government just short of all-out war!

Action Squads trained with military precision assembled in Marx/Engels Platz under the control of Russian officers in civilian disguise. They poured in, over five thousand strong, many in American lend-lease trucks.

They converged on the City Hall and the Magistrat buildings armed with clubs, knives, stones, carrying banners and slogans.

This was the tactic that crumbled freedom in Czechoslovakia. This was the replay of the Prague riots. The Action Squads broke into the buildings, smashed up offices, and left the main chambers in a shambles. American, British, and French liaison officers were beaten up and the phone lines to the Western Sectors were cut.

The riot grew! Neither the Russian Sector police or the Red Army were anywhere to be seen, allowing the Action Squads free hand. At the end of the day Oberburgermeister Hanna Kirchner was able to see General Trepovitch to demand protection.

The Russian shrugged. “I cannot keep the workers from staging a democratic demonstration. They hate the imperialist Airlift aggression. It is the free right of the workers to protest.”

The angry little lady came to her feet. “I never believed,” she spat, “there could ever again be anything as loathsome as the Nazis. The Soviet Union has won that honor.”

Trepovitch sprung to his feet.

“Go on, hit me,” she dared.

He dared not She spat on his desk and walked out.

The next day the “riots” continued.

Hanna Kirchner defiantly drove to her office, but the doors were now blocked by Red Army guards and she was not allowed to enter.

People’s Radio announced more Red Army guards were coming, explaining that the anger of the workers compelled the Soviet Union to protect the citizens of Berlin from their corrupt officials.

Andrew Jackson Hansen returned to his old posture as Eric the Red. He spewed a stream of oaths in frustration against the outrage. When Neal Hazzard and Sean were able to calm him down they entered a conference with the British and French to reach a mutual decision.

The third day of riots at the City Hall and Magistrat was allowed to continue. The Western commanders then contacted Hanna Kirchner and told her that the Berlin Assembly and Magistrat could continue operation in the Western Sectors of the city.

On the fourth day of riots, Oberburgermeister Hanna Kirchner called for the Assembly to come into session in the British Sector at the Student’s Haus on Seeinplatz.

People’s Radio retorted that night, “The workers of Berlin have been abandoned by flunkies carrying out the dirty work of the imperialists.”

Armed now with the “fact” that the Democrats, Christians, and Conservatives had “abandoned” their offices, the Soviets swept all non-Communists from borough offices in their sector, including three mayors. The Russians padlocked vital files at the Magistrat.

A massive shift of population and offices followed as members of the free parties fled to the new sanctuary of the West. Each day a new department of the government splintered off and opened new offices there. The climax was an assembly of sixteen hundred Communists at the Admiral Palast.

“The people of Berlin have been left to the mercy of the revenge seekers,” Rudi Wöhlman cried to his audience. “Look at the Magistrat and Assembly. They have been abandoned! This is the time to elect representation for the workers!”

This rump meeting of Communists by hand proclamation declared Heinz Eck as Oberburgermeister of “Free” Berlin. A new Magistrat now to be known as the Berlin Soviet was proclaimed without debate, protest, or formal vote.

In the beginning of September 1949, the Soviet Union had evaded an open election and split the city into two parts.

“My God!” Nelson Goodfellow Bradbury said, “my God!”

From his vantage point high in the shell of the gutted Reichstag he looked down on the Platz der Republik. The people had gathered to protest Russian atrocity.

A mass of humanity jammed the square; they were packed solid in the destroyed Tiergarten. The great Charlottenburger Chaussee was a solid bulk of people backed all the way to the Victory Column restored by the British. Berliners spilled over the area against the Brandenburg Gate where it touched the Russian Sector. There had never been a gathering like this. A half-million Berliners rose in anger.

Usually an orderly people, they became enraged when the Russians saw fit to change the guard at a monument which sat just inside the British Sector. The Berliners called it “Tomb of the Unknown Raper.” A student climbed the flag pole on the Brandenburg Gate and ripped the hammer and sickle from its mast. Only courageous action of the British guards prevented a full-scale uprising.

It rained and they were drenched, but it did not seem to matter. One by one the leaders came to the rostrum and defied the Soviet Union.

The great figure of Ulrich Falkenstein, hatless and refusing the protection of an umbrella, faced this unprecedented sea of human wrath. He had kept his sacred word to General Hansen. The people had held.

“Berliners!” his voice echoed through them in the midst of their ruin. “I have said that you were never Nazis. And I say now: Berliners will never be Communists!”

Chapter Twenty-seven

SCOTT DAVIDSON HAD FALLEN upon hard times. First he ran into a new boss like Hiram Stonebraker. Now a rebuff by a German maid! ... No broad had ever called him dull!

Scott had accumulated four days’ leave. He and Nick went on an historic binge from Rüdesheim to Wiesbaden to Frankfurt to Mainz, which ended with Nick’s car sinking slowly in the Rhine River. And he had plenty of Schatzies ... six girls in four days.

But, as Hildegaard had suggested, they were rather easy. This annoyed Scott. He was going to show her! Actually, all he showed was a throbbing headache and a queasy stomach. It was a strange, unique, humiliating experience to be so bluntly rejected. Scott proved her contention that he was spoiled and immature. He was left with no choice but to strike his banners in defeat and forget her, but he couldn’t.

He was edgy for a week after his binge. Scott seemed disinterested even when Nick told him he had gotten a two-room flat in Frankfurt. Nick and Stan became worried. He had never acted like this before.

The Ring Church on Friedrichstrasse emptied of old aristocrats in threadbare finery who stopped for a word with the black robed minister. Hilde came from its confines with Tony and Lynn Loveless. They all thought it would be good for their German lessons to hear the sermon in the language.

She stepped into the sudden light, shading her eyes, a cameo in lace and white gloves. The Loveless children, scrubbed and polished, circled around her, running off their relief to be free from the confinement.

“Lovely sermon.”

Hilde turned and faced Scott Davidson.

“Hi kids,” Scott said, “how about a milk shake at the Eagle Club. I always like a milk shake after church.”

“I am afraid not. It will spoil their dinner.”

“Aw, Hilde,” Tony complained.

“I said, no.”

“Well, we got to listen to our Aunt Hilde,” Scott said. “Mind if I walk you home?”

“Otherwise you plan to make a scene here in front of the church,” she hissed in a low voice.

“Hey, you kids run on ahead. I’ll see if I can’t get Aunt Hilde to change her mind.”