On returning to Berlin Pullman was treated like a hero by his colleagues. Only twelve crewmen had survived, and the fact that he was one of them reflected well on the ministry. In addition, he had managed to save all of his film rolls, and this was viewed as an act of outstanding professionalism. ‘Well done, Leutnant!’ his immediate superior in the Press Division had exclaimed while vigorously shaking his hand. ‘Commendable! We can make something of this!’ Subsequently, Pullman had been whisked from one social function to another — morning, noon, and night — and introduced to numerous high-ranking party officials and their immaculately dressed wives. It was even rumored that he might be invited to a special gathering at the Kaiserhof and presented to the Führer.
Pullman had been so very busy, he had only been able to develop ten of the twelve film rolls he had saved. Moreover, none of the photographs he had developed so far were — in his opinion — very good. He had produced much better work on previous patrols. ‘Ironic,’ he muttered to himself. An overeager waiter mistook the utterance as a request for attention, and Pullman had to wave the man away.
At ten thirty the door opened and Herr Marbach entered the coffee house. He was a man in his early fifties, and his hat and coat were clearly very expensive. His movements were unhurried, and when he reached Pullman’s table he greeted the photographer with genuine affection. ‘Good to see you, my boy! Good to see you!’ They had originally met at an art exhibition and had become friends on account of a shared interest in early photography. Marbach owned one of the finest collections in private hands. It included numerous daguerreotypes and some charming street scenes by Eugène Atget, Michael Frankenstein, and Oscar Kramer. Marbach was a wealthy industrialist with Party connections and he had done a great deal to advance Pullman’s career. These benign intercessions were not entirely altruistic, for Marbach had three unmarried daughters between the ages of nineteen and twenty-four and he was always on the lookout for right-thinking husbands-to-be. His plan was to cultivate a circle of potential suitors and encourage a spate of romances just after the war’s successful conclusion. This policy had been decided upon in order to ensure against the possibility of premature widowhood. He was a doting father and couldn’t bear the thought of any of his daughters having to endure a broken heart. Pullman was second in line for the hand of Marbach’s middle daughter, Helga.
The two men sat down, and Marbach ordered more coffees and an apple strudel. ‘So, you’ve returned in triumph. Tell me all about it.’ Pullman recounted the story of the scuttling of U-330—for the umpteenth time — and when he had finished, Marbach expressed his admiration in the form of an extended eulogy seasoned with words like ‘courage’ and ‘valor.’ Pullman was quick to reject any charges of heroism, knowing full well that Marbach was always impressed by a show of modesty.
‘I hear that you’ve been invited to the Kaiserhof?’ Marbach raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
‘That hasn’t been confirmed yet.’
‘But it seems likely.’
Pullman shrugged and sipped his coffee. ‘I really don’t know.’
Marbach studied his young companion and wondered whether he should elevate him to the position of first in line for his daughter’s hand. He was, after all, a handsome fellow with a winning (if somewhat incomplete) smile. An invitation to the Kaiserhof was a great honor. This boy could go places…
They continued talking about life on board U-330.
‘He was something of a maverick, I hear.’ Marbach sliced his apple strudel with the edge of his fork and raised a piece up to his mouth. ‘Siegfried Lorenz.’
‘Yes,’ Pullman replied. ‘A good man, but one who had succumbed to unhealthy levels of cynicism. He certainly didn’t believe in our cause. In fact I doubt he believed in anything, really. He was a man without convictions.’
‘I heard that he fouled up a special operation.’
‘Did he?’
‘Yes.’
‘How did you find that out?’
‘Through a business associate of mine — Ehrlichmann. We have joint interests in Paris.’ Marbach savored his apple strudel and swallowed. ‘Ehrlichmann knows an SS officer who had some involvement.’
‘Oh? What happened?’
‘Well, as far as I understand it, Lorenz was supposed to transport some important prisoners back to France. One of them was a scholar, a Norwegian academic, who, if the rumors are true, was a man possessed of unusual gifts — a kind of psychic, who Himmler wanted taken to the castle at Wewelsburg. This Norwegian was supposed to have an encyclopedic knowledge of runes, so you can imagine how keen the Reichsführer was to meet him. I believe some tests of his ability were planned… Anyway, the prisoners escaped or died, I forget which, so the mission ended ignominiously. And it was all Lorenz’s fault.’
‘That surprises me. He didn’t strike me as incompetent, merely uncommitted.’ Pullman gazed out of the window but was distracted by his own reflection occupying a table on the pavement outside. ‘I suppose we shouldn’t judge him too unkindly. He wasn’t exceptional in this respect. U-boat men are a peculiar breed. They do their duty but they can’t seem to see very much beyond simple patriotism. They lack vision. One wonders why?’
‘Compared with the army the navy has always been less… ideological.’
‘Well, things have got to change — and soon. Wars aren’t won with indifference.’
‘Indeed.’
Pullman’s half-smile folded into an ugly sneer. ‘You know, sometimes, I detected in Lorenz not only cynicism but also a dreadful weariness. It was as if he had grown tired or bored… of everything.’
‘Oh?’
‘It was as if he didn’t want to go on.’
‘I abhor defeatism.’
‘There was something about him that I can only describe as—’ Pullman hesitated before completing his sentence contemptuously—‘decadent.’
‘A man like that deserves to be exposed. I hope you’ll be putting all this in your report.’ Pullman produced a short burst of false, histrionic laughter. Marbach was baffled by the young man’s reaction. ‘What?’
Pullman looked around anxiously. ‘I’m going to have to ask you not to repeat any of this…’
‘As you wish — I can respect a confidence. Needless to say, you will respect mine. Ehrlichmann and so forth…’
Pullman nodded and continued: ‘It’s been suggested that Lorenz should be awarded a posthumous Knight’s Cross.’
‘That’s ridiculous.’
‘In actual fact he was a few thousand tons short, but no one will be poring over the figures or raising any objections.’
‘Given what sort of a man he was…’
‘It’ll make a good story. And good stories are good for morale. Lorenz’s sister lives in Berlin — and there’s a niece and a nephew. His brother-in-law is fighting the Russians — a medical man who has been decorated twice for bravery. We’ll be able to hold a ceremony for the family and place touching photographs in various publications.’