Cold War

Seizing the silent invitation offered, Emily opened with her prepared remarks. “General, in the last few months I have visited nearly forty hospitals in the Western Sectors of Berlin, and what I saw shocked me deeply. You may think me naive. I certainly don’t have your vast experience, and I’m sure you have seen many sobering sights beyond my imagination. Yet, nothing can change the fact that the hospitals in this city are in a dreadful state. Nearly all of them sustained damage during the war either from our bombs or Soviet artillery or both. None have been properly rebuilt since. All are run down. I was particularly struck by how dark they are. They lack sufficient glazing for widows and have only inadequate, artificial light — and that was before the Blockade started and electricity rationing came into effect. They are overcrowded and understaffed. They do not have enough clean sheets or pillows for every bed.” She paused, Clay was listening to her, but he did not seem moved.

Emily continued. “The most distressing thing I learnt was that due to an acute shortage of surgeons, surgical equipment, and anaesthetics, Berlin hospitals have long been unable to conduct certain kinds of surgery. They can do no heart surgery or brain surgery, for example, nor can they operate for stomach and other forms of cancer.”

Clay nodded but said nothing. Emily had no choice but to forge ahead. “The situation, as you can imagine, has been aggravated by the Blockade. The hospitals can no longer be assured of either power or diesel for their generators. Patients on life support systems could be lost due to sudden or sustained power outages. The most vulnerable patients are at risk.” Emily hesitated and then with a glance at Waite asked, “General, do you want the American flag to fly over a city where the hospitals have become helpless? Where the sick are dying for want of proper medical treatment?”

Clay cleared his throat and announced, “No. The evacuation of seriously ill hospital patients makes sense. We shouldn’t be flying food or fuel in for people who need medical treatment that can’t be provided. I’m a touch confused, however, Mrs Priestman, because as I remember it, you work for an air ambulance company. Aren’t you already actively engaged in flying the most severe cases out of Berlin?”

“General, Air Ambulance International has been forced to shut down its operations.”

Clay looked startled. “Why?”

“Do you know the cost of a gallon of aviation fuel, General?”

“Not off the top of my head, but aviation fuel for this airlift is costing the American taxpayer upwards of half a million dollars every day.”

“I can’t afford to fill a Wellington from my kitchen kitty, General, and nor can Mr Goldman, and nor can the Berlin City government because aviation fuel can only be purchased with hard currency.”

Clay did not bat an eyelid and nothing in his expression betrayed what he was thinking. Emily had no choice but to continue, “Air Ambulance International could shuttle as many as 18 seriously ill patients out of Berlin each day — but only if the aircraft is in tip-top condition, which requires meticulous maintenance and the rapid replacement of defective equipment. Furthermore, it can only fly three flights a day if it has two fully qualified pilots on board. It must also have oxygen and life-support systems for the patients. And, as I indicated before, aviation fuel. If we are to help with the evacuation of those who need medical treatment, we have to receive sufficient compensation for our services to cover our expenses and our staff.”

“And General Robertson has turned you down?” Clay asked, his eyes boring into her.

“No, sir,” Emily squirmed. “We decided not to ask him.”

“Why was that?” Clay wanted to know.

Emily hesitated and then did something she rarely did, she flirted. With a smile, she admitted, “Well, General, my husband thought you would be more receptive to an appeal from a lady than General Robertson.”

Clay smiled faintly at that and nodded ambiguously. He appeared to be thinking things over, and Emily decided it was wiser not to push him any further, although she glanced at Waite, who winked encouragement.

After several tense seconds in which no one spoke or moved, the American general nodded and got to his feet. He pushed a buzzer on his desk and the lieutenant who had escorted them immediately popped in. Clay told his aide to fetch a Major something-or-other and then returned to the coffee table and sat down again. “I’ve asked an officer of my staff to join us. I want you to go with him to his office to work out the details.”