Officially to weed out Nazis, but Norbert had soon told him to give preference to members of the communist and social-democratic parties, because students vetted in line with Soviet interests would prevent possible trouble later on.
The growing dissatisfaction of the Berliners with their Soviet occupiers had been a frequent discussion among the Gentner group and Werner was one of the few who promoted a more lenient and amiable treatment of the Germans to build a resilient relationship based on trust rather than fear. But most everyone else, including Norbert, favored the solution to dole out favors to politically reliable people while basically excluding the rest from public life – just like the Nazis had done.
Even though Werner feared that the Soviet policies would lead down a slippery slope to something resembling the fascist regime they all hated, he never mentioned this to anyone.
After the warning issued by General Sokolov he meticulously guarded his tongue and never uttered a single word of criticism at whatever directive came his way. Even Norbert had praised him for his behavior and called him a model communist.
So why was Werner so annoyed with himself? He suspected he knew the reason, but was too cowardly to admit it, even to himself. Once upon a time he had been a hopeful and enthusiastic student, believing in the cause and the merits of communism. A people’s revolution that brought wealth, freedom and appreciation for everyone.
Right now, he wasn’t so sure anymore. The fruitful discourse about theories and policies he so enjoyed was all but nonexistent these days. Actually, in hindsight, a true discourse had never happened. The professors in Moscow had indulged the students to play devil’s advocate as long as the devil’s arguments were inherently flawed, and in the end, everyone came to the conclusion that Stalin was always right.
He scoffed. Phony discussions! Young and malleable people led by experienced men, until the students completely stopped thinking for themselves. Shamefully he had to admit he’d fallen prey to the same pretentious omniscience. Until he came to Berlin and experienced real life. Things were not the way Moscow wanted everyone to believe.
Werner winced at the memory of the beautiful brunette nurse glaring at him with her expressive eyes and yelling at him that he was a Soviet monster, forcing his filthy propaganda on her people.
And she wasn’t wrong. From the moment General Sokolov had inaugurated Rundfunk Berlin, the new radio station, with the words, “ Hier spricht Berlin ”, this is Berlin speaking, all the radio did was twist the truth, propagate blatant lies, report biased or outright false news, and vilify the Americans. All of this in an attempt to assuage the Berliners’ hate for their Soviet oppressors with sweet words.
A knock on the door ended his musings. A familiar looking man in his late twenties entered the office, but Werner couldn’t place a name or location to the face.
“ Guten Tag, Herr Böhm, I’m Georg Tauber,” the man said, handing him his student application. Werner was sure he’d never heard the name before, but the face was strangely familiar.
“Please sit down.” He motioned at the chair in front of his desk and leafed through the application form. “You want to study medicine?”
“Yes, Herr Böhm.”
“Do you have any previous experience?” He glanced at the young man with the curly brown hair who was about his own age.
“Actually, yes. I studied four semesters of medicine here in Berlin before the war.” Georg Tauber seemed unsure whether he should offer more information, so Werner prodded him, “Please continue and give me a short summary of what happened since.”
“In 1941 the Nazis drafted me and sent me to the Eastern Front. After my return I wasn’t allowed to continue my studies, because I refused to join the Nazi party. You must know, I was a member of the Christian Democratic Party.”
Werner’s ears perked up. “What happened then?”
“Well,” Georg smirked. “The Nazis assigned me to work in an armaments factory, but they weren’t at all pleased to find out that I told people about the atrocities committed at the Eastern Front. Before I knew, I was on my way to the Mauthausen concentration camp, where American troops liberated me earlier this year. Just recently I returned to Berlin and am now helping a doctor with his patients.”
Werner glanced at the two Russian guards in the corners of the office. It was a policy to never let anyone speak alone with people who weren’t proven politically reliable. Although he doubted the guards understood a lot of German.
“That is quite the impressive anti-fascist biography you have here. I would like to suggest you for the student board. We need valiant anti-fascists like you for the denazification process. And I can’t think of a better suited man for this position than you, a courageous man who opposed the Nazis from the very beginning regardless of the personal consequences.”
“Thank you, Herr Böhm. It would be an honor for me to serve on the student board.”
Werner was pleased. “I’ll let my superior know. Would you please wait outside?”
As soon as Georg Tauber had left, Werner glanced at his wristwatch. It was already early afternoon. While Werner preferred to work during German office hours, Norbert had adopted the Russian habit of not showing up before noon.
He picked up the phone and called Norbert’s office. “ Guten Tag, Comrade Norbert. I have just interviewed an applicant who turns out to be a camp survivor and I should like you to have a word with him. He would be a perfect candidate for the student board.”
“Is he a communist?”
“No, he’s a Christian Democrat.” Even through the phone Werner saw Norbert’s face scrunching up and he hurried to add, “He is a convinced anti-fascist and as you said yourself, we have to make our institutions look democratic for the sake of the other Allies. Therefore, I believed it to be a good idea to have a few non-communists on the student board for good measure.”
“Hmm… that is actually quite clever, Werner. You have learned your lesson well. I am glad your little chat with General Sokolov has put your head straight.”
Werner gave a sour smile. “Will you want to talk to him?”
“Yes, please have him come to my office in an hour.”
“Thank you.” Werner disconnected the call and asked the Russian guard to order Herr Tauber inside. Then he said, “Herr Tauber, my boss Norbert Gentner would like to meet you and discuss the further process directly with you.
Werner gave the other man directions to Norbert’s office in Prinzenallee 80 and said, “I hope to welcome you to the student board soon.” Then he waved the next waiting applicant into his office.
The afternoon progressed and Werner grew curious whether Georg Tauber had passed the test. If the young man turned out to be a toad, Norbert would rub it in until the end of his days. On the other hand, the moment Norbert approved the nomination, the responsibility was taken from Werner’s hands. Sometimes playing by the rules was comforting.
Late in the evening after processing several dozen prospective students, he finally took his hat and briefcase and locked the door behind him. Just as he stepped onto the street, a car was stopping at the curb and Norbert stepped out, which was quite unusual.
“You weren’t already leaving, were you?” Norbert asked.
Werner sighed. The Russians habitually turned night into day and rarely woke up before noon, but he adhered to the German nine-to-five schedule, although in his case it more often than not was nine-to-nine. “In fact, I was because I interviewed prospective students for the past twelve hours.
Norbert didn’t address the issue and instead said, “Get into my car.” Once both of them settled in the back of the car, Norbert ordered the driver to take them to the Café de Paris and then said, “About Georg Tauber, he’s a great find. One-hundred percent anti-fascist and hates the Nazis with a passion. He believes in a social democracy and has the potential to become a great leader.”