Page 210

Wiesenhüttenplatz 28-38

Frankfurt am Main

American Zone, Occupied Germany

0955 8 November 1945

Captain James D. Cronley Jr.—who was not wearing the insignia of his rank, having decided the persona of a dashing agent of the Counterintelligence Corps was more appropriate for the situation—examined himself in the mirror on the wall.

What the hell. I’ll try it again.

“It” was establishing contact with Mrs. Rachel Schumann by telephone. The ostensible purpose of the call would be to tell her he knew nothing of the Leica camera she had told Freddy Hessinger she had left in the Opel Kapitän.

The actual purpose of the call was twofold. First, to keep their affair from blowing up in his face right now. And second, to gracefully ease his way completely out of the affair as soon as possible.

That he didn’t have a clue how to accomplish either of these objectives was beside the point. He knew he had to try.

—

He had flown into Eschborn late the previous afternoon, with a more than reluctant—actually terrified, as it was his first flight ever—Staff Sergeant Harold Lewis Jr. Cronley brought Lewis in the belief that it would be useful for Father Welner, when he got off South American Airways Flight 707

from Buenos Aires, to have a little time with Lewis to discuss Major—or Colonel or whatever the hell he really was—Konstantin Orlovsky before he met him.

Lewis had not only spent more time with the Russian than anybody else, but had interesting insights about what made him tick. And Cronley suspected Lewis had been kind to Orlovsky behind Bischoff’s back when the German had been tormenting him. That might be useful.

When the ambulances had met them at Eschborn, it had been Cronley’s intention to spend the night at the ASA Relay Station. The ASA sergeant who had come with the ambulances said that his presence there as either a captain or a CIC agent would draw unwanted attention to the ambulances. He suggested Cronley get a room at the Park Hotel.

Cronley knew the Army-run hotel, which was very near to the Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof. It provided Army of Occupation officers and their families a waypoint to spend a night when they arrived from—or were going to depart from—the Rhine-Main Airfield.

Second Lieutenant Cronley had spent his first night in Germany there, en route from Camp Holabird to the XXIInd CIC Detachment in Marburg an der Lahn. It was in the lobby of the hotel the next morning that the commanding officer of the XXIInd—on hearing of Cronley’s sole qualification to be a CIC officer, his fluent German—had told him he would find an assignment for him where he could cause the least amount of damage.

So Cronley went in one of the ambulances to the Park Hotel, and Sergeant Lewis went in the other to the ASA Relay Station with orders to pick him up at the hotel at ten o’clock in the morning.

Once Cronley had checked in, he went to the bar and had two drinks of Haig & Haig to give him the courage to call Rachel. That worked as far as his going to his room and dialing the number. But when, on the third ring, the phone was answered—“Colonel Schumann”—the liquid courage evaporated and he hastily hung up.

—

Cronley went to the telephone and dialed the number of the quarters of Lieutenant Colonel and Mrs. Schumann. This time, there was no answer at all, even after he let it ring ten times.

He hung up, picked up his overnight bag, and went down to stand in front of the hotel to wait for Sergeant Lewis.

[ SIX ]

Incoming Passenger Terminal

Rhine-Main USAF Base

Frankfurt am Main

American Zone, Occupied Germany

1010 8 November 1945

Cronley saluted the Reverend Kurt Welner as the Jesuit priest came out of the building.

“Welcome to Germany, Father Welner,” he said. “Sergeant Lewis will take your bag, sir, and the ambulance is right over there in the parking lot.”

“Thank you, Jim. How are you?”