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  Keith was on the phone in Butterfield’s office, arranging his flight to Melbourne, when a messenger handed him the telegram.

  11.

  The Times

  5 June 1945

  SETTING UP CONTROL OF GERMANY: PRELIMINARY MEETING OF ALLIED COMMANDERS

  When Captain Armstrong visited Der Telegraf for the first time, he was surprised to find how dingy the little basement offices were. He was greeted by a man who introduced himself as Arno Schultz, the editor of the paper.

  Schultz was about five foot three, with sullen gray eyes and short-cropped hair. He was dressed in a pre-war three-piece suit that must have been made for him when he was a stone heavier. His shirt was frayed at the collar and cuffs, and he wore a thin, shiny black tie.

  Armstrong smiled down at him. “You and I have something in common,” he said.

  Schultz shuffled nervously from foot to foot in the presence of this towering British officer. “And what is that?”

  “We’re both Jewish,” said Armstrong.

  “I would never have known,” said Schultz, sounding genuinely surprised.

  Armstrong couldn’t hide a smile of satisfaction. “Let me make it clear from the outset,” he said, “that I intend to give you every assistance to ensure that Der Telegraf is kept on the streets. I only have one long-term aim: to outsell Der Berliner.”

  Schultz looked doubtful. “They currently sell twice as many copies a day as we do. That was true even before the war. They have far better presses, more staff, and the advantage of being in the American sector. I don’t think it’s a realistic aim, Captain.”

  “Then we’ll just have to change all that, won’t we?” said Armstrong. “From now on you must look upon me as the proprietor of the newspaper, and I will leave you to get on with the editor’s job. Why don’t you start by telling me what your problems are?”

  “Where do I begin?” said Schultz, looking up at his new boss. “Our printing presses are out of date. Many of the parts are worn out, and there seems to be no way of getting replacements for them.”

  “Make a list of everything you need, and I’ll see that you get replacements.”

  Schultz looked unconvinced. He began cleaning his pebble glasses with a handkerchief he removed from his top pocket. “And then there’s a continual problem with the electricity. No sooner do I get the machinery to work than the supply is cut off, so at least twice a week we end up with no papers being printed at all.”

  “I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen again,” promised Armstrong, without any idea of how he would go about it. “What else?”

  “Security,” said Schultz. “The censor always checks every word of my copy, so the stories are inevitably two or three days out of date when they appear, and after he has put his blue pencil through the most interesting paragraphs there isn’t much left worth reading.”

  “Right,” said Armstrong. “From now on I’ll vet the stories. I’ll also have a word with the censor, so you won’t have any more of those problems in the future. Is that everything?”

  “No, Captain. My biggest problem comes when the electricity stays on all week.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Armstrong. “How can that be a problem?”

  “Because then I always run out of paper.”

  “What’s your current print run?”

  “One hundred, one hundred and twenty thousand copies a day at best.”

  “And Der Berliner?”

  “Somewhere around a quarter of a million copies.” Schultz paused. “Every day.”

  “I’ll make sure you’re supplied with enough paper to print a quarter of a million copies every day. Give me to the end of the month.”

  Schultz, normally a courteous man, didn’t even say thank you when Captain Armstrong left to return to his office. Despite the British officer’s self-confidence, he simply didn’t believe it was possible.

  Once he was back behind his desk, Armstrong asked Sally to type up a list of all the items Schultz had requested. When she had completed the task he checked the list, then asked her to make a dozen copies and to organize a meeting of the full team. An hour later they all squeezed into his office.

  Sally handed a copy of the list to each of them. Armstrong ran briefly through each item and ended by saying, “I want everything that’s on this list, and I want it pronto. When there’s a tick against every single item, you will all get three days’ leave. Until then you work every waking hour, including weekends. Do I make myself clear?”

  A few of them nodded, but no one spoke.

  * * *

  Nine days later Charlotte arrived in Berlin, and Armstrong sent Benson to the station to pick her up.

  “Where’s my husband?” she asked as her bags were put into the back of the jeep.

  “He had an important meeting that he couldn’t get out of, Mrs. Armstrong. He says he’ll join you later this evening.”

  When Dick returned to the flat that night, he found that Charlotte had finished unpacking and had prepared dinner for him. As he walked through the door she threw her arms around him.

  “It’s wonderful to have you in Berlin, darling,” he said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be at the station to meet you.” He released her and looked into her eyes. “I’m doing the work of six men. I hope you understand.”

  “Of course I do,” said Charlotte. “I want to hear all about your new job over dinner.”

  Dick hardly stopped talking from the moment he sat down until they left the unwashed dishes on the table and went to bed. For the first time since he had arrived in Berlin he was late into the office the following morning.

  * * *

  It took Captain Armstrong’s barrow boys nineteen days to locate every item on the list, and Dick another eight to requisition them, using a powerful mix of charm, bullying and bribery. When an unopened crate of six new Remington typewriters appeared in the office with no requisition order, he simply told Lieutenant Wakeham to turn a blind eye.

  If ever Armstrong came up against an obstacle he simply mentioned the words “Colonel Oakshott” and “Control Commission.” This nearly always resulted in the reluctant official involved signing in triplicate for whatever was needed.

  When it came to the electricity supply, Peter Wakeham reported that because of overloading, one of the four sectors in the city had to be taken off the grid for at least three hours in every twelve. The grid, he added, was officially under the command of an American captain called Max Sackville, who said he hadn’t the time to see him.

  “Leave him to me,” said Armstrong.

  But Dick quickly found out that Sackville was unmoved by charm, bullying or bribery, partly because the Americans seemed to have a surplus of everything and always assumed the ultimate authority was theirs. What he did discover was that the captain had a weakness, which he indulged every Saturday evening. It took several hours of listening to how Sackville won his purple heart at Anzio before Dick was invited to join his poker school.

  For the next three weeks Dick made sure he lost around $50 every Saturday night which, under several different headings, he claimed back as expenses the following Monday morning. That way he ensured that the electricity supply in the British sector was never cut off between the hours of three and midnight, except on Saturdays, when no copies of Der Telegraf were being printed.

  Arno Schultz’s list of requests was completed in twenty-six days, by which time Der Telegraf was producing 140,000 copies a night. Lieutenant Wakeham had been put in charge of distribution, and the paper never failed to be on the streets by the early hours of the morning. When he was informed by Dick of Der Telegraf’s latest circulation figures, Colonel Oakshott was delighted with the results his protégé was achieving, and agreed that the team should be granted three days’ leave.

  No one was more delighted by this news than Charlotte. Since she had arrived in Berlin, Dick had rarely been home before midnight, and often left the house before she woke. But that Friday afternoon he turned up