[THREE]
Cronley watched as the three GMC 6×6 trucks that had carried the First Platoon of Company C, 203rd Tank Destroyer Battalion to the Pullach compound approached Kloster Grünau. The jeeps that had been with them had apparently stayed at the compound. That meant the jeeps — more specifically their pedestal-mounted.50 caliber Browning machine guns — were already guarding the compound, and that in turn meant the compound was up and running. And, finally, that in turn meant that the sooner everybody going to the compound got there, the better.
As the first truck rolled slowly past Cronley, Technical Sergeant James L. Martin jumped nimbly to the ground with what Cronley considered amazing agility for someone of his bulk.
Martin saluted.
“How’d it go, Sergeant?” Cronley asked as he returned the salute.
“Dunwiddie said he’d give you a full report when he gets here, sir, but it went well. Clark and Abraham should be halfway to Frankfurt with the ambulances about now. That ASA lieutenant…?”
“Stratford?”
“Yes, sir. Lieutenant Stratford sent one of his non-coms with them to make sure there’s no problems stashing the vehicles. He, the sergeant, is going to get on his radio net and tell the lieutenant when they’re there, and that info will be relayed here to you on the SIGABA.”
“Good thinking.”
“Tiny said he’s going to stay as long as he can before he gets that Kraut to fly him home, so he should be here just before it gets dark.”
“Good,” Cronley said, and decided this was not the time to suggest, politely or otherwise, that Germans normally do not like to be called Krauts.
He had an off-the-wall thought: I guess if you’re as large as Martin, you get used to saying just about anything you please, because only someone larger than you can call you on it, and there aren’t very many people larger than Martin.
General Gehlen walked up to them.
Martin saluted.
He’s not supposed to do that, either. But this isn’t the time or place to get into that, either.
“How are you, Sergeant Martin?” Gehlen asked. He did not return the salute.
Martin picked up on it.
“Sorry, sir. Captain. It’s just that I’m an old soldier and I know the general was a general…”
“Try a little harder, and all will be forgiven,” Cronley said.
“Yes, sir.”
“I was wondering when you planned to start moving my people,” Gehlen said.
Martin looked at Cronley. “Tiny… First Sergeant Dunwiddie said to tell you, sir, Captain, that you can start sending them anytime.”
“I was going to suggest, Captain Cronley, that we send Herr Mannberg to the Pullach compound early on,” Gehlen said.
“You’re going to go back as soon as you load up, right?” Cronley asked Martin.
“Yes, sir. Taking three more jeeps.”
“General Gehlen, please tell Herr Mannberg to pack his bags and that he has a choice between riding in the cab of a truck or in a jeep.”
“Which will leave how soon, would you say?”
“Forty-five minutes,” Martin furnished.
“And what are your plans to move the families?” Gehlen asked.
“We’re down to two ambulances — personnel transport vehicles — now that we sent two to Frankfurt, right?” Cronley asked.
“Six,” Martin corrected him. “Tiny had them paint over the red crosses and the bumpers on four more ambulances a couple of days ago.”
Proving once again that First Sergeant Dunwiddie, who knows how to plan ahead, should be in command here, not me.
“I didn’t know that,” Cronley confessed. “Now that I do, what about setting up a convoy to leave in, say, an hour and a half, all the trucks, and all the ambulances and three jeeps? Can your people handle that, General?”
“They’ll be ready,” Gehlen said. “And I have one more suggestion to make, if I may?”
Cronley nodded.
“I don’t think any of my people should leave the Pullach compound until further notice. Mannberg could ensure that they don’t.”
Gehlen saw the confusion on Cronley’s face.
“Leaving the compound,” Gehlen clarified, “would afford those of my people who have turned the opportunity to communicate with the NKGB.”
“I should have thought about that,” Cronley said.
“You’ve had a lot on your mind,” Gehlen said.
That was kind of him.
He knows almost as well as I do, though, that Little Jimmy Cronley is way over his head in running this operation.
As darkness fell, Cronley thought he saw another proof of his incompetence — or at least his inability to think problems through — within minutes of Dunwiddie’s return to Kloster Grünau in the other Storch.
Dunwiddie reported that they had heard from Lieutenant Stratford’s sergeant that the two ambulances had arrived at the ASA’s relay station outside Frankfurt.
“I told them to leave wherever they are at 0900 for Eschborn. One at 0900 and the other at 0930.”
“Why are they going to do that?” Cronley asked.
“So (a) they know how to get to Eschborn, and (b) we know how long it’s going to take them. We’ll use the longest time as the standard.”
“I should have thought of that, too,” Cronley confessed.
Dunwiddie looked at him curiously. Cronley explained that he had also not thought about confining the Germans to the Pullach compound so that the turned Germans known to be among them could not communicate with the NKGB.
Dunwiddie’s response was much like General Gehlen’s.
“You’ve got a lot on your plate, Jim. Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Okay, I figure if you leave at first light for Eschborn, you should be back here at, say, half past two.”
“Right.”
Tiny has a good reason that I should fly to Eschborn. I will pretend I have thought of that good reason, because I don’t want to look as incompetent as I am.
Oh. General principles. To be as sure as possible that a plan will work, perform a dry run.
Jesus, I didn’t think of even that!
“How’s Konstantin?” Dunwiddie asked.
“We — Gehlen, Mannberg, and I — matched wits again with him at lunch. General Gehlen and I are in agreement that we don’t know who won. But he did eat his lunch and drink a beer.”
“Well, I will examine the subject carefully at supper and then render my expert opinion. But Gehlen said he can’t tell who’s winning?”
“That’s what he said.”
Cronley had a sudden epiphany, and blurted it out.
“I can. I do. Orlovsky’s winning. Or he thinks he’s winning, which is just about the same thing. He thinks that he’s got us figured out and that he’s smarter than we are. Which is probably true.”
“I have the feeling you decided that just now.”
“I did. I don’t know why I didn’t — or Gehlen didn’t — figure that out earlier, but that’s it. I’m sure of it.”
“What didn’t you figure out?”
“He was too relaxed. There was no battle of wits, because he wasn’t playing that game. Instead of us playing with him, he was playing with us. Now we’re back to my examining the subject at dinner.”
“Let’s go talk to Gehlen.”