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[ THREE ]
Commanding Officer’s Quarters
Kloster Grünau
Schollbrunn, Bavaria
American Zone of Occupation, Germany
1410 31 October 1945
Technical Sergeant Abraham L. Tedworth and Staff Sergeant Harold Lewis Jr. led Major Konstantin Orlovsky of the NKGB into the sitting room of Captain James D. Cronley Jr.’s quarters. Cronley and CIC Special Agent Chauncey Dunwiddie were seated at a table at which three places had been set.
Orlovsky was shuffling in his bare feet. His ankles were tied together with handcuffs and a short length of rope. A GI blanket had been tied around his shoulders. His hands were handcuffed behind his back. His head was inside a GI duffel bag, closed at his neck with a GI web belt.
“Take the bag off his head,” Cronley ordered.
Tedworth did so.
“Good morning, Konstantin,” Cronley said cordially, as the Russian blinked his eyes against the sudden exposure to light.
Orlovsky looked nervously around the room but did not reply.
“I’m sorry I had to have you trussed up like that,” Cronley went on conversationally, “but I knew General Gehlen’s people were going to see you walking over here, and we wouldn’t want them to think we’ve become friends, would we? And then I had to consider the possibility that you would try to do something foolish, like trying to get away from the sergeants.”
Again Orlovsky didn’t reply.
“Chauncey and I”—Cronley nodded toward Dunwiddie—“you’ve met Chauncey, I think, if only briefly—we were talking and decided that after your stay in—how shall I say this?—das Gasthaus—you’d probably like a shower and a shave and a change of linen. And afterward, that we could have a little chat over breakfast. So let’s get to that.”
He gestured to Tedworth and Lewis. Lewis dropped to his knees and started to free Orlovsky from the handcuffs around his ankles.
Cronley went on: “That long wooden pole, Konstantin, that Sergeant Tedworth is holding is a Louisville Slugger baseball bat. Normally used in our national sport. But in this case, I’ve told the sergeant that if you even look as if you have notions of declining our hospitality and leaving, he is to first smash your feet with it, and, if that doesn’t have the desired effect, to start in on your knees.”
Sergeant Lewis finished unshackling Orlovsky and then unlocked and removed his handcuffs.
“The sergeants will now assist you in your shower,” Cronley said.
Lewis and Tedworth took Orlovsky’s arms and marched him into Cronley’s bedroom.
When the door was closed, Cronley said, “I hope that doesn’t take long. I haven’t had anything to eat since lunch yesterday.”
“Feeding him breakfast was your idea,” Dunwiddie replied, and then said, “You did a pretty good job on him. From the look on his face, he wouldn’t have been surprised to find that he was being led into a Dachau gas chamber shower.”
“Yeah. I saw that, too. And what worries me was that he didn’t seem to give a damn. I think he’s decided that he’s as good as dead, so what the hell, get it over with.”
—
Sergeants Tedworth and Lewis led Orlovsky back into the sitting room ten minutes later. He was still barefoot, but he was now dressed in an olive drab woolen shirt and OD trousers.
“Well, my stuff seems to fit, Konstantin,” Cronley said. “I thought we were about the same size.”
Orlovsky didn’t reply.
“Sergeant Tedworth, why don’t you give the Louisville Slugger to Dunwiddie? And then you and Sergeant Lewis can leave us alone while we have our breakfast. Tell Sergeant Whatsisname we want it now.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I didn’t know what you like for breakfast, Konstantin,” Cronley said, “so I told Sergeant Whatsisname . . .”
