Office of the Military Government Liaison Officer
The South German Industrial Development Organization Compound
Pullach, Bavaria
American Zone of Occupation, Germany
0450 4 March 1946
“What we have, Cronley,” Dr. Williamson said, “is two well-fed naked Germans who did not have anything like cyanide capsules concealed in their body’s orifices. What do I do with them now?”
“Honest Abe,” Cronley said, “after he has instructed his stalwart troopers, three of each, not to take their eyes off them for two seconds, will get them GI fatigues—no boots or shoes—to hide their nakedness. And come to think of it, Abe, it might be a good idea to put a couple of troopers outside the window of my former bedroom.”
“Way ahead of you, Captain,” Tedworth replied. “I’ve got two jeeps with pedestal .50 calibers sitting out there.”
“Lieutenant Winters,” Wallace said coldly, “since Captain Cronley doesn’t seem to understand what a direct order is, this direct order is to you. Neither he, or you, or this officer”—he pointed to Spurgeon—“or Zielinski is to leave this building for any purpose until further orders. You understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Sergeant Tedworth,” Wallace went on, “you will see that they comply with my order.”
“Yes, sir.”
Wallace walked out of the building, with his staff trailing.
Cronley looked at Tedworth.
“Why are you smiling, Honest Abe?”
“That Kraut is the one everybody’s been looking for?”
Cronley nodded. “And the other one is his boss.”
“So why is Wallace so pissed at you?”
“I don’t think he likes me.”
“That’s what they call an understatement. I happened to overhear what he said to General Seidel on the telephone.”
“Which was?”
“‘That loose cannon sonofabitch has caused an international incident. If Schultz wasn’t on his way here, I’d have him locked up in the Fulda Stockade awaiting general court-martial.’”
“Speaking of telephones,” Cronley said, and reached for the one on the desk.
“Get me Miss Janice Johansen at the Farber Palast Press Center in Nuremberg,” he ordered.
[SIX]
0720 4 March 1946
“So you’re telling me you left two dead men in that alley?” Major General Bruce T. Seidel, the USFET G-2, asked. “And then left without telling Colonel Wasserman or the Viennese police what had gone down?”
Wallace had ordered everyone but Winters, Spurgeon, Zielinski, and Cronley out of the room—which meant outside the building into lightly falling snow—when he had entered with Seidel.
“Yes, sir,” Cronley admitted.
“My God! What the hell were you thinking?”