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Clete opened it.
Rodolfo Nulder stood there.
“If you don’t mind,” Nulder said, more than a little arrogantly, “I’ve got some questions for Colonel Hammerstein. Several, as a matter of fact.”
Mattingly said: “And you are, señor?”
“Rodolfo Nulder. I am, so to speak, the person in charge.”
“No, Señor Nulder. I am the person in charge, and I just told you to debark. Please do so.”
“I protest!”
“Duly noted. Now either stop delaying the movement or sit down and make yourself comfortable. You can spend the night on this aircraft.”
“You haven’t heard the last of this, Colonel Hammerstein!”
“It’s Hammersmith, Felix Hammersmith. I suggest you submit any complaints you might have in writing to SHAEF, after we—if we—get you safely out of Berlin. Which is it to be, Señor Nulder—are you going or staying?”
Nulder looked around the cabin. “You all were witnesses to this!” he said, primarily to Delgano, then turned and walked quickly down the aisle to the line of passengers at the door.
Delgano pulled the door closed and said, “Well, at least they’ll have something to talk about at the embassy tonight.”
“What I really think will happen at the embassy tonight is that your people who were here are going to give a detailed report of the rape of Berlin. Believe me, that will take everybody’s mind off Colonel Hammerstein, or Hammersmith, whatever name I used.”
“What happens to us now?” Delgado said.
Mattingly looked at Siggie Stein.
“I realized about thirty seconds ago, Siggie, that I should have asked this question yesterday. It is alleged by Mr. Dulles that you are one of the rare people who know how to make a Collins 7.2 work. True?”
“I know the 7.2 pretty well, Colonel.”
“Good. We brought one on the C-54. It is now in Admiral Canaris’s house in Zehlendorf. Just as soon as the diplomats have driven away and everybody can change into their officer equivalent civilian employee uniforms, we’ll go there and you can set it up.
“I suspect everybody from Ike down at SHAEF is wondering how things went this morning, and I don’t want to make that report in the clear—the Russians might be listening—over General White’s somewhat limited radio network.”
“Everybody goes?” Delgano asked.
“Good question, Colonel,” Mattingly said. “As I was saying a moment ago, there is a hotel here in the terminal building. Not very damaged. Adequate. It has a mess, which we have also put into operation. They don’t serve Argentine beef, of course, but the mess is adequate, too. What I would like to do is put the crew in it overnight, except for one of your officers, your choice, who I suggest should come with us to keep everybody in the loop.”
“Mario,” Delgano said. “You go. I’ll stay here with the others. I’d like to keep an eye on the airplane.”
“Sí, mi coronel,” Peralta said.
“Colonel Delgano,” Mattingly said, “as you climb down that wobbling ladder, you may notice two half-tracks, each mounting four .50-caliber Browning machine guns. They will help you keep an eye on the Ciudad de Rosario.”
[TWO]
357 Roonstrasse, Zehlendorf Berlin, Germany 1335 20 May 1945
The convoy—a M-8 armored car, three jeeps, two three-quarter-ton trucks, and a trailing M-8—had been wending its way slowly through rubble when it suddenly came into a residential area that appeared just about unscathed.
Here and there, some of the large villas and apartment houses showed signs of damage, but most of the buildings were intact.
“Welcome to Zehlendorf,” Mattingly announced.
He was driving the first jeep, with Frade sitting beside him and Boltitz and von Wachtstein in the backseat.
