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Along the truck body’s left side was an officer walking backward, occasionally looking over his shoulder while giving hand signals to the driver. Immediately behind him were eight Red Army soldiers, in a file, each carrying a PPSh-41 submachine gun across his chest. Another eight similarly armed soldiers marched on the other side of the truck body.
Mannberg put his fist to his mouth, coughed, and then softly observed, “Dog and pony show, Serov version.”
The truck continued to slowly back up until it was within ten feet of the white line marking the center of the bridge. It stopped with a squeal of brakes.
The officer who had been giving instructions to the driver signaled for a soldier to unlock the rear doors of the truck body. When the soldier had done so, the officer turned and looked toward the American end of the bridge. He folded his arms across his chest.
A moment later, the left rear door was pushed open by a soldier inside.
It was dark inside the body. Cronley couldn’t see anything beyond the soldier.
Then the right rear door swung open.
And interior lights came on.
They illuminated Colonel Robert Mattingly, who was sitting on a wooden chair. He was wearing his trench coat.
The officer then turned and ordered both doors quickly closed.
“What the hell?” Cronley exclaimed.
The truck didn’t move.
“Now what?” Cronley asked after ninety seconds, which seemed longer.
The truck doors then again were opened.
Colonel Mattingly now was standing, naked except for his white jockey shorts. A chain circled his waist, to the front of which his hands were handcuffed. His ankles were shackled. There was a clean white bandage on his upper right arm.
Well, at least they changed his bandage.
Somew
hat awkwardly, Colonel Mattingly began shuffling his feet to turn counterclockwise. He stopped when he was back to where he was looking at the American end of the bridge.
The officer signaled for the rear doors to be closed. As soon as they had, he signaled to the truck driver, who began to slowly drive off the bridge. The soldiers followed alongside.
Cronley watched until the truck reached the end of the bridge, where it turned and he could no longer see it.
“Those sonsofbitches!” he said.
“Comrade Serov said he would provide proof that they would treat Colonel Mattingly’s wounds and not physically abuse him,” Mannberg said. “It looks as if he’s done that.” He paused, then added: “You’re going to Frankfurt with von Wachtstein?”
“Yeah,” Cronley said. “I’ll try to get back for our nine o’clock dog and pony show tomorrow, but if I don’t get back, we do the same show. Okay?”
Mannberg nodded.
Cronley went to the MP staff car, got in the front seat, and told the CIC agent behind the wheel, “If that siren will get us to Tempelhof any quicker, turn it on.”
Cronley arrived at Tempelhof in time to see the SAA Constellation begin its takeoff roll.
[ FOUR ]
The South German Industrial Development Organization Compound
Pullach, Bavaria
American Zone of Occupation, Germany
