Armageddon - Leon Uris

To add to the misery, tens of millions of displaced persons swelled the roads of Europe, and Germany was being forced to take in millions of her ethnics from Poland, Czechoslovakia, Hungary; expelled from these lands for betrayal to Hitler.

All of those things which make man civilized did not function within Germany. Now came revelations from Poland about places named Auschwitz, Majdanek, Treblinka, Chelmno that made the death factories of Dachau and Schwabenwald mild by comparison.

Hansen saw the problem in three phases: short range, intermediate, and final. The short-range problem revolved around a single word, food.

“We can get by on all our other problems. If the Germans get cold enough this winter they can cut down their precious forests ... but food ...”

In the transition period the rebuilding would begin. The Ruhr coal mines had to work again; people had to be put on jobs; and the economy had to switch from things of war to things of peace. Parts of Europe ruined by German arms deserved the first help, and to further complicate German recovery Russia had put in a multibillion-dollar-reparations claim in the form of taking out any workable machinery.

The culmination, to allow Germany to govern itself again, seemed so far away as to be impossible. “We haven’t got enough trustworthy or trained Germans to run a good garbage dump.”

Slowly General Hansen worked up a direct comment to his young officer. “We have a fourth problem, Sean. That’s really what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Yes, sir?”

The general hedged. “How do you figure things stand in Rombaden?”

“It’s going to be painful and slow just like the rest of Germany. My outlook is parallel to yours. Of course, I do have Ulrich Falkenstein. He’s invaluable.”

“And Falkenstein has O’Sullivan. Don’t be modest. What about you, yourself?”

Hansen had been working a long way around to the question; Sean countered with a question. “What about me, sir?”

The general’s poker face was gone. “Well ... what is your own estimation of how long you figure on staying in the

Army.”

“I realized when I joined military government that I would be expected to stay on for some time after the end of the war. I haven’t refined those thoughts down in terms of weeks or months.”

“What’s your personal attitude about it?”

“Shall I level?”

“Shoot.”

“I’m sick of Germans. I’m sick of Germany. I promised you I’d remain fair. I’ve tried like hell to keep that promise.”

“Emma Stoll would testify to your fairness. How badly is it getting you down, Sean?”

“It’s bad at night. At least during the day I’m busy. I’m learning that the lonesomeness of being commander is quite a penalty. Sure, I could impose my comradery on my officers, but there always has to be an aloofness ... what the hell am I telling you about it for ... like it’s something you don’t know. So, I button up in my study and around midnight I get to thinking about my brothers and I have to get a little smashed to drown my hatred ...”

“What are you going to do when all this is over?”

“Hell, that’s easy. If you were a genii and could grant me three wishes I’ll tell you what they would be.”

“Wish number one?”

“I want to be near my mother and father for the rest of their lives. They deserve that much. Wish number two ... I need a woman, General ... I want a wife. I’m not a kid any more and I’m tired as hell. I’ll probably marry the first woman who treats me with tenderness. Maybe wish number one is all mixed up with wish number two. I want my mother and father to live and see their grandchildren. I want them to know that another generation of O’Sullivans will follow.” And then Sean became silent.

“You still have another wish coming.”

There was an expression of nostalgia in Sean’s eyes. He dared allow himself to remember now that which he had shoved into a dark corner of his mind, and he said, “A campus. A green, green campus. Big lawns, old buildings like castles, and trees. Watching the campus from my class, and those cute little things walking by swishing their cute little asses. I want that beautiful quiet before the carillons play in the tower. I want to look into the faces of students filled with hope and energy and inquisitiveness.”

“And how will you get wish number three?”

“Well, I was a political science instructor, you know. I continued my own studies at night I’ve got a semester for my masters and in two or three years I think I’ll be ready for a doctorate.”

“And in between classes you’ll fight four-round preliminaries again?”

“No ... not this time. My brothers have paid me back with their lives. Two lives ... ten thousand dollars a life. Ironic, isn’t it? Anyhow, the GI insurance will keep my parents comfortable until I finish. And then, with this new GI Bill ...”

“Well, when you are ready for your doctorate you should be able to do a hell of a paper on military government.”

Sean laughed. “Probably not enough theory ... scholars are practical only when it doesn’t disturb theory.”

“Your three wishes are very simple. Have you ever thought about staying on in the Army? You’ve got a big rank for a young man.”

“I’ll stay on long enough to get my job done.”

“Done? But that may take twenty years.”

“I mean ...”

“You mean, complete the first phase in Rombaden.”

“Yes, sir, that’s what I mean.”

Hansen went through the business of finding and lighting a pipe. He longed for a chaw, but never chawed in the presence of a second party ... except his wife. “General,” Sean said, “you’re a lousy poker player. What is it that you really want to ask me?”

He put out a fourth match, waved away the billow of smoke. “I’m going to Berlin. I want you to come with me.”

“Berlin?”

“That’s right, Berlin.”

Sean collected his wits and asked shakily, “Is the General implying he wishes me to remain in the Army?”

“I am implying that his country needs him more than his mother and father or his own personal desires to find peace of mind.”

The blood drained from Sean’s lips. He tried to envision it. Berlin! A monstrous prison. The piles of rubble and the pall of gray devoured his beautiful green campus and the haunting lonely eyes of his father.

Sean shook his head slowly. “No, sir. I don’t want to go to Berlin.”

“Neither do I, Sean,” Hansen said with deliberate slowness. “I’ve been looking for peace of mind for thirty years. I don’t want to go to Berlin, either.”

“But my father!”

“Ask your father!” The general got to his feet and began to pace. “Oh Christ, yes. The campus is cozy and warm. A handsome Irish buck like you will go right to the top. Pat the ass of the president’s wife and smile with those big brown eyes and the world is yours by the nuts on a downhill pull. And think of the nice young stuff you can sort, stud, and train to your exact liking. Hell yes, Sean, anybody give up that green campus for a friggin’ rock pile like Berlin would have to be nuts. None of the ugly things like Schwabenwald and sick Germans and rubble to contend with. Just discuss them in a scholarly manner. No decisions to make there, lad.”

“Lay off, General. I don’t know why the hell I’ve suddenly become the indispensable man in the Army.”

“I’ll tell you why! America is committed to the world, only America doesn’t know it or believe it yet. We would all like to make a retreat to the campus, but the comforts of home and hearth are henceforth to be denied unborn generations if our country is to survive.”

“You are obviously speaking about the Russians.”