casualties (including POWs and missing) were 387,966. The number killed and injured in traffic accidents was 588,742.
2 Helmut used the expression ‘Um die Ecke bringen’, which in German means to kill.
Chapter 9
In certain circumstances pawns can be converted
into the most powerful unit on the board.
Tuesday, October 8th
I put the Gehlen request for documents on the teleprinter to London and marked it urgent.
The paper said:
Name: Louis Paul BROUM
National Status: British
Nationality of Father: French
Profession: Agricultural Biologist
Date of birth: August 3rd, 1920
Place of birth: Prague, Czechoslovakia
Residence: England
Height: 5 ft 9 ins Weight: 11 st 12 lb
Colour of eyes: brown Colour of hair: black
Scars: 4-inch scar inside of right ankle
Documents required.
1. British Passport issued not before beginning of current year.
2. British Driving Licence.
3. International Driving Permit.
4. Current Insurance Policy on a motor vehicle in British Isles.
5. Motor Vehicle Registration Book (for same vehicle).
6. Diners’ Club credit card (current).
Chapter 10
JOHN AUGUST VULKAN
Wednesday, October 9th
‘Oh boy,’ thought Johnnie Vulkan Edelfresswelle —a great calorific abundance of everything but faith—and quite frankly it was great. There were times when he saw himself as an untidy recluse in some village in the Bavarian woods, with ash down his waistcoat and his head full of genius, but tonight he was glad he had become what he had become. Johnnie Vulkan, wealthy, attractive and a personification of Knallhärte —the tough, almost violent quality that post-war Germany rewarded with admiring glances. The health cures at Worishofen had tempered him to a supple resilience and that’s what you needed to stay on top in this town—this was no place for an intellectual today, whatever it may have been in the ‘thirties.
He was glad the Englishman had gone. One could have too much of the English. They ate fish for breakfast and always wanted to know wherethey gave the best rate of exchange. The whole place was reflected in the coloured mirror. The women were dressed in sleek shiny gowns and the men were wearing 1,000-mark suits. It looked like those advertisements for bourbon that one saw in Life magazine. He sipped his whisky and eased his foot on to the foot-rail of the bar. Anyone coming in would take him for an American. Not one of those crummy stringers who hung around writing groundless rumours with ‘Our special correspondent in Berlin’ on the dateline, but one of the Embassy people or one of the businessmen like the one sitting against the wall with the blonde. Johnny looked at the blonde again. Boy, oh boy! he could see what type of suspender belt she was wearing. He flashed her a smile. She smiled back. A fifty-mark lay, he thought, and lost interest. He called the barman and ordered another bourbon. It was a new barman.
‘Bourbon,’ he said. He liked to hear himself saying that. ‘Plenty of ice this time,’ he said. The barman brought it and said, ‘The right money, please, I am short of change.’ The barman said it in German. It made Vulkan annoyed.
Vulkan tapped a Philip Morris on his thumbnail and noticed how brown his skin was against the white cigarette. He put the cigarette in his mouth and snapped his fingers. The bloody fool must have been half-asleep.
Along the bar, there were a couple of tourists and a newspaper writer named Poetsch from Ohio.One of the tourists asked if Poetsch went across to the ‘other side’ very much.
‘Not much,’ Poetsch said. ‘The Commies have me marked down on their black list.’ He laughed modestly. Johnnie Vulkan said an obscene word loud enough for the barman to look up. The barman grinned at Johnnie and said, ‘Mir kann keener.’ 1
Poetsch didn’t speak German so he didn’t notice.
There were lots of radio men here tonight: Americans with the blunt accents of their fathers who spoke strange Slav dialects over the jammed
2 Helmut used the expression ‘Um die Ecke bringen’, which in German means to kill.
Chapter 9
In certain circumstances pawns can be converted
into the most powerful unit on the board.
Tuesday, October 8th
I put the Gehlen request for documents on the teleprinter to London and marked it urgent.
The paper said:
Name: Louis Paul BROUM
National Status: British
Nationality of Father: French
Profession: Agricultural Biologist
Date of birth: August 3rd, 1920
Place of birth: Prague, Czechoslovakia
Residence: England
Height: 5 ft 9 ins Weight: 11 st 12 lb
Colour of eyes: brown Colour of hair: black
Scars: 4-inch scar inside of right ankle
Documents required.
1. British Passport issued not before beginning of current year.
2. British Driving Licence.
3. International Driving Permit.
4. Current Insurance Policy on a motor vehicle in British Isles.
5. Motor Vehicle Registration Book (for same vehicle).
6. Diners’ Club credit card (current).
Chapter 10
JOHN AUGUST VULKAN
Wednesday, October 9th
‘Oh boy,’ thought Johnnie Vulkan Edelfresswelle —a great calorific abundance of everything but faith—and quite frankly it was great. There were times when he saw himself as an untidy recluse in some village in the Bavarian woods, with ash down his waistcoat and his head full of genius, but tonight he was glad he had become what he had become. Johnnie Vulkan, wealthy, attractive and a personification of Knallhärte —the tough, almost violent quality that post-war Germany rewarded with admiring glances. The health cures at Worishofen had tempered him to a supple resilience and that’s what you needed to stay on top in this town—this was no place for an intellectual today, whatever it may have been in the ‘thirties.
He was glad the Englishman had gone. One could have too much of the English. They ate fish for breakfast and always wanted to know wherethey gave the best rate of exchange. The whole place was reflected in the coloured mirror. The women were dressed in sleek shiny gowns and the men were wearing 1,000-mark suits. It looked like those advertisements for bourbon that one saw in Life magazine. He sipped his whisky and eased his foot on to the foot-rail of the bar. Anyone coming in would take him for an American. Not one of those crummy stringers who hung around writing groundless rumours with ‘Our special correspondent in Berlin’ on the dateline, but one of the Embassy people or one of the businessmen like the one sitting against the wall with the blonde. Johnny looked at the blonde again. Boy, oh boy! he could see what type of suspender belt she was wearing. He flashed her a smile. She smiled back. A fifty-mark lay, he thought, and lost interest. He called the barman and ordered another bourbon. It was a new barman.
‘Bourbon,’ he said. He liked to hear himself saying that. ‘Plenty of ice this time,’ he said. The barman brought it and said, ‘The right money, please, I am short of change.’ The barman said it in German. It made Vulkan annoyed.
Vulkan tapped a Philip Morris on his thumbnail and noticed how brown his skin was against the white cigarette. He put the cigarette in his mouth and snapped his fingers. The bloody fool must have been half-asleep.
Along the bar, there were a couple of tourists and a newspaper writer named Poetsch from Ohio.One of the tourists asked if Poetsch went across to the ‘other side’ very much.
‘Not much,’ Poetsch said. ‘The Commies have me marked down on their black list.’ He laughed modestly. Johnnie Vulkan said an obscene word loud enough for the barman to look up. The barman grinned at Johnnie and said, ‘Mir kann keener.’ 1
Poetsch didn’t speak German so he didn’t notice.
There were lots of radio men here tonight: Americans with the blunt accents of their fathers who spoke strange Slav dialects over the jammed
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