Together they hurried to Marlene’s apartment building and by sheer miracle they weren’t stopped or harassed on the way. Fifteen minutes later they stood in front of the basement door and she knocked three times. “Mother, Father, it’s me Marlene. I am with Dr. Ebert.”
She heard a shuffling from the other side of the door and moments later her mother opened to let them inside. When she saw the doctor, she smiled. “Dr. Ebert, how nice of you to visit with us.”
The doctor glanced slightly confused between her mother and Marlene. “I thought this wasn’t a social call?”
“It’s not. My friend Zara Ulbert needs your attention,” Marlene hurried to say. Then she motioned for the doctor to follow her across the room to where Zara was lying motionless on the cot, with a pained grimace on her face.
“Zara Ulbert… Wasn’t her father the commandant of Mauthausen?” Dr. Ebert asked.
“Yes, that’s him,” Marlene said, fear chilling her bones. Would the doctor refuse to treat Zara because of her father’s crimes?
“I’ve heard half the Red Army is after him,” he said, while kneeling down beside Zara.
“We didn’t invite her in, she literally fell through our door,” Mother said, following the doctor into the corner of the room. “And she cannot stay here. We were hoping you could take her with you.”
Dr. Ebert ignored her and took a closer look at Zara. “Pretty badly roughed up,” he murmured and opened his bag to examine the young woman. He demanded water and cleaned and stitched her wounds, the expression on his face growing more sorrowful with every passing minute.
When he was finished, he turned around and said, “Zara has a high fever and I’m afraid some of the wounds have been infected. This girl has been through a lot and needs constant care.” He looked pointedly at Marlene’s mother. “Frau Kupfer, while I agree with you that she would be better off in a hospital, there’s no way to transport her, even if we found a hospital willing to take her in. As far as I know the only one currently operating is the Charité and the Russian soldiers going in and out would have a feast with this young lady.”
“But we can’t keep her here,” her mother protested. “We barely have enough space for ourselves, let alone food.”
Chapter 5
Colonel Dean Harris was getting annoyed. His orders were to take an American reconnaissance unit into Berlin to take hold of their assigned boroughs. The convoy with over one hundred vehicles had reached the demarcation line at the Elbe bridge in Dessau hours earlier.
His superiors had warned him, the Russians might be difficult and had urged him to stay composed, no matter what. But so far, the exact opposite had happened. The Russian Colonel Gorelik had behaved as if long lost friends had finally reunited and put up a welcome party that would put a royal wedding to shame.
Just a few minutes earlier, a Soviet sergeant had settled in front of a piano to play horrible tune after horrible tune. Dean was anxious to continue his journey, because from the demarcation line it was still over one hundred miles drive to Berlin.
For whatever strange reasons the Russians were playing for time, not wanting him to continue on his journey. But he didn’t have the slightest inclination to stay in Dessau for one minute longer. His orders were to lead a reconnaissance unit to Berlin and he would do so, come hell or high water.
Dean got up and walked over to his Russian counterpart Colonel Gorelik. “Colonel, I must insist, that we leave now.”
Gorelik smiled at him. “Music nice, yes?”
Dean suspected that Gorelik spoke English well enough, and only pretended not to understand. He groaned inwardly and wished for his translator to be here, but the Russians wisely had invited only a few officers to the welcome party, leaving the rest of his roughly five hundred men to wait in the vehicles. His anger was bottling up inside and would soon explode, if nothing moved forward.
“Translator!” he demanded harsher than he’d meant to.
Gorelik motioned for a sergeant to get the Russian translator, who’d conveniently disappeared half an hour ago. It took three more awful songs from the piano player, until the man finally showed up.
Dean explained to him with the little patience he had left that he wanted to leave for Berlin this very instant.
“Certainly, Colonel Harris. We understand your eagerness to arrive at the capital and you’re free to leave any time you wish.”
“Great, thanks,” Dean said, sighing with relief.
“But, one last question I must ask: How many officers, men and vehicles do you have with you?”
It was a strange question to ask, but by now Dean had seen too many Russian follies to think anything of it. They probably had counted the members of his convoy several times by now, so he saw no reason to be evasive. “Roughly five hundred men and one hundred twenty vehicles.”
As soon as Dean’s words had been translated, Colonel Gorelik shook his head with a sad face and said something in Russian. The translator repeated his words in English, “The colonel is disconsolate, but the agreement allows only 37 officers, 50 vehicles and 175 ordinary men.”
What the hell? Dean wanted to shake some sense into the blockheaded bureaucrats in front of him and asked with barely concealed aggression, “What agreement?”
The Russians seemed to enjoy the altercation and the translator coldly answered, “The Berlin agreement.”
Dean didn’t blink an eye, even though he had never heard of such an agreement before and was pretty sure it didn’t exist. Although one could never be too confident that some off-handed diplomatic remarks hadn’t been taken literally, and this was an honest misunderstanding. The urge to strangle both his superiors and the Russians for getting him into such a delicate position made the vein in his temple pulsate.
“I’m afraid I don’t know of any such agreement,” he hedged.
“Well, I do,” Gorelik answered.
Dean thought for a moment about how best to tackle this issue. He couldn’t well send home two-thirds of his convoy on the grounds of a mysterious treaty he’d never heard about. Seeing the lazy smile on Gorelik’s face, he addressed the translator, “May I please see a copy of this Berlin agreement?”
The colonel hesitated for a moment and then said, “We only have a copy in Russian.”
“That will do, I have people who can speak and read your language,” Dean answered, wishing for his trusted translator Bob to be at his side right now. How much easier the entire conversation would be.
The Russian’s face fell for a short moment, before he had his expression under control again. “Under these circumstances, I will have to check with headquarters.”
“Well, then check with your headquarters,” Dean hissed. Of course, the Muppet had to check with headquarters. Did those damn Russians ever do something without checking with someone else first?
He balled his hand into a fist, wishing he’d never agreed to take on this mission. As far as he was concerned this was rapidly turning into a nightmare.
“As you wish, Colonel. I will immediately send a car to the village.”
“The village?”
The Russian shrugged. “There’s the next telephone line to Berlin.”
What the fuck? Dean managed to swallow down the expletive, because it wouldn’t help to contain the growing tension. He was sure that this was nothing but another ploy. The Russians had been in Dessau for almost two months and hadn’t been able to establish telephone lines with their headquarters in Berlin? Impossible.
But General Clay personally had impressed on Dean not to cause any problems with the Russians and keep the mission peaceful – under any circumstances. So, he ground his teeth and waited. For two hours. Precious hours he could have been tackling the Autobahn to Berlin.