“You know as well as I do that it’s not the combat troops showing the worst behavior, but fresh troops coming in from Mongolia who have done nothing for the liberation of Berlin.” The words stumbled out of Werner’s mouth before he could prevent it.
Gentner glowered at him. “You are wrong. And I advise you not to question the supreme wisdom of our party. Instead of feeling pity for the civilians, invest your energy in getting that radio station up and running. Leave the rest to the bureaucrats in Moscow.”
Werner swallowed down a sharp remark and said instead, “Yes, Comrade, first thing in the morning I’ll evict the hospital patients to make room for the new eeditorial offices.”
A stale taste remained. He loved Russia and communism, but Stalin’s interpretation of Leninism-Marxism was one of terror, torture and murder. Lenin would turn in his grave if he knew of the crimes committed in his name. No, that’s not fair. We’re still in the transition phase where some sacrifices must be made. Finding excuses for behavior the party wouldn’t tolerate in any other country or person, had become so deeply ingrained in Werner’s personality that he didn’t even notice it anymore.
About an hour later, Werner made to leave the party. He knew the Russians would soon get completely sloshed and if he stayed one minute longer he’d have no choice but do the same. Then he’d sleep in with the rest of them, unable to get up before noon. And he wouldn’t be able to evict the hospital patients in time…
But just as he reached the exit door, the sentry asked him to follow him. Cold fear gripped his heart. Often people disappeared, never to be heard from again. Both his parents had suffered this fate after a social midnight call from the NKVD.
It was Werner’s luck that he’d been away on a field trip with his Komsomol unit or he might have joined his parents on their trip to an unknown future. Rumor had it, they’d been relocated to a beautiful rural village in Siberia. He’d clung to this story for as long as he could, but when he didn’t receive as much as a single letter in years, he’d finally accepted that their true fate must have been a very different one.
The guard led him to Sokolov’s private office and told him to sit down, before leaving the room. Werner was covered in cold sweat, his heart racing. He calculated his chances to make it out of the compound alive should he try for a run, and decided it was better to stay. The dreadful time of the purges was long over. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Had nothing to fear.
He sat motionless in his chair, trying to exude an air of confidence. Still, the minutes ticked by excruciatingly slow and he started to squirm in his seat. Would they punish him for his criticism? Send him back to Moscow? To Siberia? To a Gulag?
Drops of sweat formed on his forehead and he longed to swipe them away with his kerchief, but that would acknowledge his nerves and be seen as a sign of guilt. An innocent person didn’t have a reason to be nervous. Glancing at his wristwatch he noticed that one hour had passed, when finally, the door opened and Sokolov himself stepped inside.
Werner swallowed hard. The situation was graver than he thought.
“Werner Böhm?” Sokolov asked as if he didn’t know him.
“Yes, Comrade General, that’s me.”
“You have been a stellar member of your Komsomol and you have graduated with honors from Moscow University in philosophy, politics and foreign languages.”
“Yes, General. It was an exceptional honor to study at such a great institution and I’m beyond grateful for the opportunity.” Werner did what was expected of him, hoping for some lenience for his earlier out-of-line behavior.
“Well, it is a strange way to show your gratitude criticizing the very people who allowed you to study.” The general squinted his eyes, but couldn’t suppress the nervous tick.
Panic froze Werner’s blood and he almost wished for a lightning to strike him right there in the general’s office. Somehow he managed to keep his voice bland. “I am very sorry General, it was not my place to speak up. I got carried away by sympathy for the patients.”
Sokolov didn’t show any sign of emotion. “I am tired of your constant nagging. You seem to believe that you are smarter than the rest of us, but let me tell you: that’s wrong. You are nothing. Worse than nothing, because your parents were traitors. They came to the Soviet Union pretending to be communists while in fact they acted as spies for the fascist imperialists.”
Fear and anger snaked up Werner’s spine. His parents weren’t fascists and certainly not spies or traitors.
“It’s only thanks to Stalin’s kind indulgence that you were allowed to stay in Moscow, because he believed you to be a good student. Was Stalin wrong to put his trust in you?”
Werner blanched. There was only one way to answer this question. “Of course not, General, Stalin is never wrong. It is completely due to my own lack of farsightedness that led me to occupy my mind with questions that are far beyond the scope of my average brain.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say your brain is average. You are quite intelligent and it seems Comrade Gentner holds you in high esteem. And he is the only reason, why I will let you go with a warning this time. But rest assured, this is the only warning you will ever receive. From now on you will not question your orders, the party line, or any single word coming down the chain of command. You will completely and fully embrace our activities in Berlin, whether they are directed at the German population or our so-called allies. If I ever hear another complaint or suggestion coming from you, this will be the last thing the world has heard from you. Are we clear?”
“Perfectly clear, General. And thank you for the opportunity to show my dedication to the communist cause.” The self-humiliation and brown nosing came easily after decades of practice. Although a slight queasiness in his stomach remained. The liberation of Berlin had proved a stark disappointment and sowed a seed of discontent with the reigning doctrine.
For now, he’d cling to the hope that in due time, things would change and the Germans would embrace the advantages of the communist system. They would forget about the initial cruel treatment endured at the hands of the Red Army and would embrace their new friendship with Russia. After all, the Russians had come to Berlin with the best intentions. They were here to bring to Germany freedom, wealth, and democracy.
“Dismissed.” General Sokolov turned around and left the room, Werner followed several seconds later. While walking the short distance to the car waiting for him in the parking lot, he vowed to suppress from now on any and all individual thoughts and work strictly according to his orders.
He’d start with ruthlessly evicting the hospital patients in the morning.
Chapter 8
Finally, Marlene had found a useful task. Her parents were constantly complaining about the hardships that had befallen them and, frankly, she’d scream if she must hear it one more time. How much more satisfying was it to spend her time tending to badly injured people and experiencing their gratitude.
Every morning she rushed to the hospital as soon as she woke. But that day she was in for a horrible surprise. A group of Russian soldiers infiltrated the building, forcefully evicting the patients and confiscating every piece of furniture. She pressed her back against the wall, waiting for two soldiers to pass her, before she slipped inside looking for Dr. Ebert.
Her glance fell on a rather smart young man who barked orders in Russian at the soldiers. But he wasn’t in uniform, which was a peculiar. Instead he wore a dark blue business suit consisting of pants with a sharp crease and a well-fitting jacket.