Page 393 of Winter of the World (The Century 2)

"Yes."

Frau Schroeder was not easily intimidated. "Under the city constitution, the Soviet occupying power cannot make such a rule for the other sectors," she said firmly. "The other Allies must be consulted."

"They will not object." He handed over a sheet of paper. "This is Marshal Sokolovsky's decree. You will bring it before the city council tomorrow."

Later that evening, as Carla got into bed with Werner, she said: "You can see what the Soviet tactic is. If the city council were to pass the decree, it would be difficult for the democratically minded Western Allies to overturn it."

"But the council won't pass it. The Communists are a minority, and no one else will want the ostmark."

"No. Which is why I'm wondering what Marshal Sokolovsky has up his sleeve."

The next morning's newspapers announced that from Friday there would be two competing currencies in Berlin, the ostmark and the deutsche mark. It turned out that the Americans had secretly flown in 250 million in the new currency in wooden boxes marked "Clay" and "Bird Dog," which were now stashed all over Berlin.

During the day Carla began to hear rumors from West Germany. The new money had brought about a miracle there. Overnight, more goods had appeared in shop windows: baskets of cherries and nea

tly tied bundles of carrots from the surrounding countryside, butter and eggs and pastries, and long-hoarded luxuries such as new shoes, handbags, and even stockings at four deutsche marks the pair. People had been waiting until they could sell things for real money.

That afternoon Carla set off for city hall to attend the council meeting scheduled for four o'clock. As she drew near she saw dozens of Red Army trucks parked in the streets around the building, their drivers lounging around, smoking. They were mostly American vehicles that must have been given to the USSR as Lend-Lease aid during the war. She got an inkling of their purpose when she began to hear the sound of an unruly mob. What the Soviet governor had up his sleeve, she suspected, was a truncheon.

In front of city hall, red flags fluttered above a crowd of several thousand, most of them wearing Communist Party badges. Loudspeaker trucks blared angry speeches, and the crowd chanted: "Down with the secessionists."

Carla did not see how she was going to reach the building. A handful of policemen looked on uninterestedly, making no attempt to help councilors get through. It reminded Carla painfully of the attitude of police on the day the Brownshirts had trashed her mother's office, fifteen years ago. She was quite sure the Communist councilors were already inside, and that if Social Democrats did not get into the building the minority would pass the decree and claim it to be valid.

She took a deep breath and began to push through the crowd.

For a few steps she made progress unnoticed. Then someone recognized her. "American whore!" he yelled, pointing at her. She pressed on determinedly. Someone else spat at her, and a gob of saliva smeared her dress. She kept going, but she felt panicky. She was surrounded by people who hated her, something she had never experienced, and it made her want to run away. She was shoved, but managed to keep her feet. A hand grasped her dress, and she pulled free with a tearing sound. She wanted to scream. What would they do, rip all her clothes off?

Someone else was fighting his way through the crowd behind her, she realized, and she looked back and saw Heinrich von Kessel, Frieda's husband. He drew level with her and they barreled on together. Heinrich was more aggressive, stamping on toes and vigorously elbowing everyone within range. Together they moved faster, and at last reached the door and went in.

But their ordeal was not over. There were Communist demonstrators inside too, hundreds of them. They had to fight through the corridors. In the meeting hall the demonstrators were everywhere--not just in the visitors' gallery but on the floor of the chamber. Their behavior here was just as aggressive as outside.

Some Social Democrats were here, and others arrived after Carla. Somehow most of the sixty-three had been able to fight their way through the mob. She was relieved. The enemy had not managed to scare them off.

When the speaker of the assembly called for order, a Communist assemblyman standing on a bench urged the demonstrators to stay. When he saw Carla he yelled: "Traitors stay outside!"

It was all grimly reminiscent of 1933: bullying, intimidation, and democracy being undermined by rowdyism. Carla was in despair.

Glancing up to the gallery, she was appalled to see her brother, Erik, among the yelling mob. "You're German!" she screamed at him. "You lived under the Nazis. Have you learned nothing?"

He seemed not to hear her.

Frau Schroeder stood on the platform, calling for calm. She was jeered and booed by the demonstrators. Raising her voice to a shout, she said: "If the city council cannot hold an orderly debate in this building, I will move the meeting to the American sector."

There was renewed abuse, but the twenty-six Communist councilors saw that this move would not suit their purpose. If the council met outside the Soviet zone once, it might do so again, and even move permanently out of the range of Communist intimidation. After a short discussion, one of them stood up and told the demonstrators to leave. They filed out, singing "The Internationale."

"It's obvious whose command they're under," Heinrich said.

At last there was quiet. Frau Schroeder explained the Soviet demand, and said that it could not apply outside the Soviet sector of Berlin unless it was ratified by the other Allies.

A Communist deputy made a speech accusing her of taking orders directly from New York.

Accusations and abuse raged to and fro. Eventually they voted. The Communists unanimously backed the Soviet decree--after accusing others of being controlled from outside. Everyone else voted against, and the motion was defeated. Berlin had refused to be bullied. Carla felt wearily triumphant.

However, it was not yet over.

By the time they left it was seven o'clock in the evening. Most of the mob had disappeared, but there was a thuggish hard core still hanging around the entrance. An elderly woman councilor was kicked and punched as she left. The police looked on with indifference.

Carla and Heinrich left by a side door with a few friends, hoping to depart unobserved, but a Communist on a bicycle was monitoring the exit. He rode off quickly.

---