The next morning started with Captain Pajari announcing to the Kommissar that he had knowledge of a transport train that contained original machinery from Junkers (a German airplane manufacturer).
For one reason or another, the fully loaded train stood abandoned on a deserted factory spur close to the city of Dessau in the Russian occupied territory of Germany.
“What do you wish to do about it?” Pajari wanted to know if the Kommissar had any desire to reroute this train for his own benefit.
“I prefer to use this opportunity to ingratiate myself with the military commander.” Godunov was keenly interested in Pajari’s report. The whole ‘Junker’ plant had been the object of extreme scrutiny since the Russians discovered the advanced research facility in the factory and it resulted in the decision to relocate a major portion of the plant. Presently, it was in the initial stages of being shipped to Russia. The train in question was only a small part of the factory.
The Kommissar was sorely tempted to secure the train for himself but he had enough on his plate the way it was. His trip to Switzerland had been successful and the single rail wagon with the penicillin was still on its way to Turkey.
Godunov reached for the field telephone on his desk and asked to be connected with Marshal Zhukov. Within a few minutes he had arranged a meeting with the Marshal who was greatly impressed by the quality of the information. The transport had been reported as missing and was already on his top priority list. To his surprise and satisfaction he heard that the new political member of his investigative team was already on top of it.
Marshal Zhukov was by nature a careful man and didn’t trust too many of the political officers but Godunov’s loyalty to Moscow was very well known and beyond any question. The meeting with the Russian Marshal proved to be very successful for Godunov. Zhukov assigned a team of sixty soldiers under the command of a captain to assist the Kommissar in securing the valuable freight.
“Where do we get a locomotive?” Pajari asked in bewilderment when Godunov ordered him to immediately get the transport rolling. There was no easy answer because most of the available engines were involved in taking POW transports to the east.
Nobody knew where the original locomotive was and Godunov implored Zhukov to give him an additional military convoy to enforce a requisition for an engine from any place he could find one.
The Marshal was only too happy to comply. He had the manpower available and the Kommissar had the political clout. Together, they should be able to get the train to its destination which was a rather small, but so far unknown town called Podberez’ye. It was located next to the Volga River, about 70 miles north of Moscow.
*****
Harold had been studying all morning when the door opened and Major Tesslov entered.
“Stop whatever you are doing and follow me.” He glanced around the room and when he saw the open dictionary he took a crushed sheet of paper from his pocket and placed it between the pages before he closed it shut.
“Where are we going?” Harold was happy for the interruption and hoped to be involved in another exploit with the Major.
“You will be surprised. Go and get Alex. We need to hurry before one of our friends changes his mind.”
There was no need to call Alex who was already waiting on the stairway.
Tesslov was driving the jeep and stepped on it as soon as they reached the open road to Spandau.
“The Kommissar succeeded in getting your father released.” Tesslov came directly to the point of their trip. Harold was too surprised to say anything. He just stared in disbelief at Tesslov who continued. “Released into our custody, that is. Not released as a prisoner of war.” He pointed at his breast pocket. “I have the transfer orders right here and I thought that you might want to come along. You can chat with your father on the way to the holding facility.”
“What holding facility? How long does he have to stay there? You are not planning on sending him to Russia, I hope.” Harold had found his tongue again. He was self-conscious when he realized that in his excitement he spoke German.
“Yeah, this is the part that puzzles me too. We don’t have such an exclusive facility. We only have waiting sites for prisoners destined to go east.”
They approached an American checkpoint and after the Major showed their identification they were allowed to proceed.
“These orders are confusing anyway. I just hope that your father does not escape before we are back in Russian territory.”
If anyone was confused it was Harold. They could have stayed in Russian territory all the way to Spandau. There was no need to use the American access road to the political prison except that it presented a short cut.
Tesslov was in his natural element when he drove up to the entrance. He presented the transfer order and pointed proudly at Alex. “Take this fellow along and handcuff the prisoner to him. I don’t wish to lose him.”
The British captain in charge that day listened carefully to the Major. He seemed to be slightly annoyed that a Tatar was supposed to be a better guard than his own men.
“Keep this bear in the car. I don’t want him in my facility. My men will bring the prisoner to the gate. Then he becomes your responsibility and you can chain him to whomever you wish.”
He didn’t even look at Harold who had a hard time sitting still.
The paperwork seemed to be in perfect order because the transfer happened without delay. Tesslov directed the prisoner to sit next to Alex on the back seat and Harold kept his head down until they were out of sight from the prison.
Herr Kellner didn’t know what to expect. He had walked deeply bent over, afraid to look around. He was convinced that he was being transported to an interrogation pen. During the last week he had been sharing his cell with three other prisoners and all of them were scared beyond belief. There had been a rumor going around that they would be put to death by hanging. That is, if they were convicted of a major war crime. The mildest sentence was supposed to be ten years in solitary confinement.
The rumors changed from time to time but they never got any better.
“Pappa, look up, it’s me, Harold.”
It seemed that Herr Kellner was in a trance. His chin was still resting on his chest and his eyes were shut.
Harold turned in his seat and shook his father by the shoulders. “Open your eyes, Pappa, please.”
Harold was afraid that his father was sick or had been drugged. But this was not the case. Herr Kellner was just plain tired. Tired of life and disillusioned with the outcome of the war. He had seen the inevitable coming, hoping all the time that he was wrong, until it was too late to run away. Besides, there was no place for him to run.
“Pappa.” He heard the voice from his son again and slowly allowed himself to look around. If this was a dream it was awful real. He had a hard time adjusting his eyes when he recognized his son. He didn’t know what to say and neither did Harold. They only looked into each other eyes, trying to give each other silent comfort without knowing how much time they had together.
“Harold, look up and show me the way to your friend’s apartment.” Tesslov was lost and needed directions.
“What friends? You mean the Beckers?” Harold hoped that he had heard the Major correctly.
“Yeah, I think that’s their name. Since we don’t have anything like a holding facility I figured we might as well make the most of the orders.”
Harold watched dumbfounded as the Major ripped his father’s transfer order to pieces and moments later the bits were lost among the dirt on the street.
“Darn it. Now I am without any identification for my prisoner, err… passenger, I meant to say.” Tesslov turned his head to look at Harold’s father. “Please, help me and disappear as fast as you can because I would not know how to explain your existence.” He stopped the Jeep in front of Becker’s apartment.
“Make it short, Harold. I need to maintain a certain time-frame and you can come back tonight.”
Herr Kellner was finally coming out of his stupor and made motions to hug the Major who backed off and pointed at Harold. “Thank him. I am only a fumbling jailer who lost an inmate. In another minute I might have to look for him. So make it snappy.”
“This is my father. I’ll be back tonight.” Frau Becker heard Harold’s words as she opened the door. She didn’t need any further explanation.
After a last hug, Harold was back in his seat.
“I will not forget what you did.” He said to the Major who found his way back to the checkpoint.
“Let’s not keep score. The ugly ones always know who they are.” Tesslov had heard this phrase from Godunov and it was the first time that he had an opportunity to use it.
*****
It was still before noon when they returned to the Kommissar’s office.
“Oh, you might wish to check your dictionary.” He called behind Harold who went to his room to resume his studies.
The typewritten paper which Tesslov had left as a bookmark looked like it had been carried in someone’s pocket for a long time. It was severely crumbled and Harold had to straighten it out on order to read it. It was a summation of pertinent facts about four Soviet soldiers. It listed all four of them by name and as sergeants as well as their unit and present location. However, one of the sergeants was released from active duty. The notes read discharged due to accidental blindness.
Harold tried to burn the physical descriptions as well as the names into his memory but then decided that it was easier to remember them as Wasserkopp number 1, with part of the left ear missing. Wasserkopp number 2, with a scar on his hand and Wasserkopp number 3 with a speech impediment.
He was certain that if he ever met them he would also remember their names. At the present time he wanted to keep track of their regiment and unit and made himself some innocent notations among his language records.
“What a day.” He proclaimed when he saw the Becker couple in the early evening. His latest ID allowed him to pass through the checkpoints without any questions from either side. The same held true for Alex who, like always, insisted on coming along.
“I’d like to suggest that you don’t wake your father. We think he needs some rest or counseling or something. He seems to be void of any emotion and his short term memory is almost nonexistent. He asked us a few times about you but no matter what we told him, he kept on repeating his questions.” Frau Becker informed him cautiously.
“How bad do you think he is? I mean, will he get back to normal? Where is he?” Harold had looked forward to the evening with his father and was now seriously concerned.
“Your father is resting upstairs in our neighbor’s empty apartment,” answered Herr Becker. “I saw symptoms like that before, mostly in WW I veterans. I think they even had a name for it.”
“The name does not matter,” interjected Frau Becker. “Your father needs rest first of all and I think that the knowledge that he is safe will also help him.”
“What do you suggest I do?” Harold was almost afraid to ask. He didn’t know of any relatives who could help. “He is all alone. Should I take him to a hospital?” He had noted on the way from the prison that his father was not the same man he knew.
“No. The hospitals are filled beyond capacity and he is not a medical emergency. I don’t think that a hospital stay would help him anyway. He needs some quiet time without fear.”
Frau Becker could see the anxiety in Harold’s face.
“Don’t worry, Harold, you and Karl helped us a lot and it is time that we are able to do something for you. Our neighbor’s place is empty and they might never return. In any event, we are happy to take care of your father.”
Harold let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you so much. I really don’t know what to do.”
Herr Becker noted that Harold was still concerned.
“Look, Harold, you did the impossible for your father. You got him safely out of Spandau, so don’t take his present condition as being anything more serious than it is. Your father might merely be in shock by the sudden reversal of his situation. He might be back to feeling normal in no time at all.” He tried to alleviate Harold’s distress.
“I hope that you are right, Herr Becker. Thanks for giving me hope.”
He was ready to leave when Frau Becker surprised him with a note from Karl. “Sorry, I nearly forgot.”
Harold opened the small envelope and looked at Alex who was sitting, as usual, on the floor by the door. “A letter from KaKa,” he informed him. Alex got up and fingered the envelope. He could not read and waited for Harold to tell him more.
“KaKa is coming next week.” This was all there was to the note, but Alex wanted to hear it again and again.
*****
An hour later they were back in their quarters. Captain Pajari had left a message for Harold to meet him in his office.
“We received information that there are several locomotives in a repair shed close to the Anhalter railroad station. The Kommissar went with Major Tesslov to ascertain whether or not they are useable. I have been ordered to conduct a fast inspection of our food convoys and you are to accompany me.”
“What can I do to help?” asked Harold, not sure what a food inspection would entail.
“Nothing, but you are to stay close to me during the next week. Premier Stalin is coming within a few days and we are presently on high alert.”
“Because of the Potsdam conference?”
“Maybe. I have no details other than that the food and fuel convoys have been ordered to leave Poland and are on the way west, to the Elbe River.”
Pajari gathered his personal belongings and led the way to their car. It looked to Harold as if the Captain didn’t plan to return. He could also see that the whole Russian sector of Berlin was primed for some kind of action. While he had been with Tesslov in Spandau and in West Berlin, the Soviets had moved additional infantry and tank units into the city.
The Captain elected to take the main thoroughfare in the direction of Warsaw and then turned north. As they crossed the familiar road to Stettin, Harold saw to his amazement that all the traffic was being rerouted to secondary roads; all of them leading west.
“Start writing.” Pajari handed Harold a notebook and called out the designations of the units they passed. Harold now knew why he had been ordered to assist the Captain; because he was also tasked with entering the various locations on an old German map.
“Are you still trying to tell me that you don’t plan to move your troops all the way through Germany and France?” he inquired when he saw another fuel truck procession rolling towards the Elbe River.
Pajari turned his head as if surprised by Harold’s remark. “What are you talking about? This is to demonstrate our strength and the readiness of our troops to Marshal Stalin.”
“Right,” answered Harold a little sarcastically. “How could I forget that Marshal Stalin does not know the strength of his own troops?”
When the Captain didn’t answer he added, “I just remembered that Prime Minister Churchill and President Truman are also coming to Potsdam. Maybe you wish to give them a demonstration as well?”
Harold could almost feel that his question didn’t sit right with the Captain. Before he had a chance to back pedal, Pajari answered with a twinkle in his eyes.
“Well, I don’t know about that. Never-the-less, I share your anxiety. It does not look as peaceful as we are being led to believe.”