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“Tempelhof clears South American Zero Zero Four as Number One to land on Runway Two Seven. Wind is at five from the north. Be advised there is an antiaircraft half-track and an M-4 Sherman tank parked near the threshold.”

“Understand Number One on Two Seven.”

“Flaps to twenty, gear down,” von Wachtstein ordered.

“Flaps at twenty, gear down and locked,” Clete replied after a moment, then said: “Try not to bend the bird, Hansel.”

“Jesus, that’s enormous,” Clete said as their landing roll brought them close to the terminal building.

“It’s supposed to be one of the twenty largest buildings in the world,” von Wachtstein said, and then added, “The last time I saw it, I came in here dead-stick, with oil all over the windscreen of my Focke-Wulf. When I finally touched down, my left gear collapsed.”

“I know the feeling, Hansel. You operated out of here?”

“No. So far as I know, we never used it for military operations. When they pulled me out of the Focke-Wulf, a guy asked me if I didn’t know I was not supposed to land here.”

Frade saw that there were only three aircraft under the arc of the huge building, all of them Piper Cub L-4s and all with the Second Armored Division insignia painted on the fuselage. The engine of one was running, and as von Wachtstein brought the Constellation to a stop and shut it down, that L-4 began to taxi toward the runway.

“There’s Mattingly,” von Wachtstein said, pointing.

Colonel Robert Mattingly was standing in front of the welcoming party—three other officers and half a dozen soldiers—all of them wearing the triangle patch of the Second Armored Division. Behind them was a small fleet of three-quarter-ton trucks and jeeps.

A strange-looking vehicle appeared from behind the trucks and jeeps and drove up to the rear of the Connie’s fuselage.

Von Wachtstein unstrapped himself and then—not without effort—put his head through the small window and looked out.

He pulled his head back in and reported, “It’s a hydraulic stairs. I wonder where they found that?”

He took another look, then announced, “Mattingly looks like he’s going to come up the stairs.”

Clete unstrapped himself, walked through the passenger compartment, and opened the door.

Mattingly loudly announced in Spanish: “Good morning, Captain. I am Colonel Oscar Hammerstein, the civil affairs officer of the United States Second Armored Division. May I address your passengers, please?”

“Yes, of course,” Frade said,

equally loudly.

The name Oscar Hammerstein rang a bell, but Frade couldn’t put a face or anything else to it.

Mattingly came onto the Connie, moved past Clete, stood in the center of the aisle, and loudly said, “If I may have your attention, gentlemen?”

When he had it, he went on: “I am Colonel Oscar Hammerstein, the civil affairs officer of the United States Second Armored Division. I have the privilege of being your escort during your short visit to Berlin.

“On behalf of General White and the officers and the troopers of Hell on Wheels, permit me to welcome you to Berlin.

“You will now please disembark. You will be taken to the Argentine Embassy under the protection of the Second Armored Division. Your luggage and the supplies will shortly follow. The aircraft crew will remain here at Tempelhof. There is absolutely nothing to fear from the Russians, as we have every reason to believe, despite what you may have heard, that they will respect your diplomatic status.

“I’m sure your diplomatic personnel here will be able to answer any questions you might have before they leave for home, probably about oh-nine-hundred hours—that’s nine A.M.—tomorrow.

“I look forward to getting to know those of you who will be staying.

“And now, please begin to debark. Be careful! That ladder was a little unsteady as I came up here. Thank you for your kind attention. Once again, welcome to Berlin!”

Mattingly then quickly made his way up the aisle to the cockpit. Gonzalo Delgano quickly followed him, and on his heels came Vega and Peralta. Frade got there last, and closed the door to the passenger compartment behind them.

“There’s a hotel here,” Mattingly began, “and—”

There came a knock at the door.


Tags: W.E.B. Griffin Honor Bound Thriller