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“I’m going to need rooms for myself and ten of my officers.”
“No problem, sir. The palace is half empty. May I have a copy of your orders, please?”
“I think I better speak to the officer in charge, Sergeant. Would you fetch him, please?”
“He’s not available at the moment, sir.”
“Be a good boy and go in the bar and get him,” Janice ordered.
“Yes, ma’am.”
A plump Quartermaster Corps major appeared three minutes later.
“Hello, Charley,” Janice said. “Sweetie, this is Major Levin, the innkeeper. Charley, this is my pal Jim Cronley.”
“Welcome back, Janice. What can I do for you?”
“My pal here needs rooms for himself and ten of his officers.”
“Is there a problem?”
“He doesn’t have any orders.”
“We’re CIC,” Cronley said.
“That is a problem. The palace is for press only. The CIC has a Kaserne downtown. I’m afraid you’re going to have to go there.”
“Actually, we’re not CIC,” Cronley said, and produced his DCI credentials.
The major was dazzled.
“I’ve never seen one of these before,” he said.
“Few people have,” Cronley said. “And please don’t tell anyone you’ve seen that one.”
“Or else Sweetie will have to kill you, Charley,” Janice said.
“Is that going to get us in here, Major, or am I going to have to work my way up your chain of command?” Cronley asked.
The major considered the situation for a full thirty seconds. Finally, he asked, “How long will you be staying with us, Mr. Cronley?”
“Three or four days, anyway.”
“Sergeant, take care of these gentlemen,” the major ordered. “Put Mr. Cronley in the Duchess Suite.”
“That has a bed big enough for six people,” Janice said. “I know, because it’s right down the corridor from my room.”
“Casey, go get everybody,” Cronley ordered. “Tell them when they get settled to come to the bar.”
“Yes, sir.”
[TWO]
The Palace of Justice
Nuremberg, American Zone of Occupation, Germany
0855 21 February 1946
