The Good German

-Congressman.

-General.

Herzlich Willkommen in Berlin.

Who is that guy?

It's Breimer. He's a congressman.

-You're here for the peace conference?

-To write about it.

-You ever hear of The New Republic?

-No.

The uniform

is the Army's idea of a joke.

You see any action?

I was in London when Franz Bettmann

aimed his Roman candles...

... about a hundred feet away from me.

Broke all my martini glasses.

Who is Franz Bettmann?

Bettmann, Von Braun.

The Kraut brain trust,

the guys who built the V-2s.

I actually wrote a column about it.

I wish I could write.

I have some great stories I could tell.

No sense beating up on the Germans.

The Russians are the enemy now.

They're godless people. Go down

to the rail yard and see for yourself.

Anything's not nailed down, they're

taking it, sending it to Moscow.

Well, why not?

They took most of the bullets.

We've been teaching the Ivans to play

ball. Some of those fellas can really hit.

I bet you can't wait

to go home, huh, soldier?

Yes, sir. You know the Germans.

They make excellent Danish...

... but they can't bake apple pie

like my mom.

Nothing wrong with the Germans.

Plenty of good German folk

back in Schenectady.

Oh, excuse me.

Let me help you with that, sir.

I got it, Tully.

-Being helpful is all.

-You know who's driving me tomorrow?

Got my trip ticket. I'm your driver

for the duration of your stay in Berlin.

And I got you...

... a little housewarming present.

Thanks, Tully.

-See you in the morning. Say, 0800?

-0800.

I wouldn't myself have sized him up that

way, you know? Just meeting the guy...

... you wouldn't think of him as a patsy.

That's what I loved about Berlin:

Even a guy who wasn't a patsy back

home turned into one. It was inevitable.

The city spread its legs.

All that ''eat, drink and be merry''

bullshit, ''seize the day. ''

It sure didn't make anyone smarter.

And the best part of it

was no one got hurt.

There was too much money around

for anybody to fall...

... without a nice soft cushion.

Occupation marks printed just for us.

Funny money.

It didn't feel like losing it

when they lost it.

The Russians, they had to spend it

before they went home.

Which was all anyone talked about:

Going home.

Everyone, even the Russians.

God, who would ever want to?

Say what you want about the war.

I would never wish

for all those millions of people to die...

... but the war was the best thing

that ever happened to me.

When you have money, then,

for the first time in your life...

... you understand it,

what money does for you.

Where before all you understood

was not having it.

Money allows you

to be who you truly are.

So you like your job?

What?

Your job.

Sure.

Yeah?

What are you doing

with that cigarette?

Waste not, want not.

It is a job, right?

How do you like your job?

How do you like working

in the motor pool?

What the hell does that mean?

-Nothing.

-That doesn't even follow.

Perhaps my English.

Like you should be f***ing Dwight

Eisenhower, Countess Roundheels?

-I was making conversation.

-No, you weren't.

That's what I was doing.

Don't tell me my business.

Two thousand yards of silk

in the Russian zone.

I get in and out anywhere.

The British zone, the French.

I got the vehicle. The motor pool's

the best job in the f***ing Army!

I'm sorry.

I thought you were going to help me

get out of Germany.

It's gonna get harder,

not easier. Watch.

They put your name on a list,

and then that's it.

I forget sometimes

what a boy you are.

Such a boy.

-A sweet little boy.

-No, cut it out.

Does that bother you?

Why should it?

My husband was a boy too.

A little boy

who saw numbers in his head.

I'm your fellow, okay?

I'll get you out of here.

You watch.

My gill,

she's not just a pretty face, no, sir.

She won first prize last year with her

rhubarb pie, and second with her gourds.

-That's terrific, Tully.

-Oh, she's pretty terrific, sir.

Any luck, I'll be home

for the harvest dance.

Well, at this rate

we'll still be driving to Potsdam.

Somebody got up

on the wrong side of the bed.

-Some son of a b*tch stole my wallet.

-No kidding.

It must have been

in that crowd at the airport.

I can loan you money if you need it.

Thanks, Tully.

Don't want you to miss

all the great things Berlin has to offer.

I used to live here before the war.

-Really?

-Ran the AP bureau.

They're not really gonna put

the country on trial, are they?

Do you think they shouldn't?

Doesn't seem American

to lock a person up...

... for something they didn't

have anything to do with.

Somebody you know, Tully?

I'm just saying.

Well, there's a piece that would sell:

''Fallen Women of the Third Reich.''

That's pretty raw, sir.

Millions of people didn't disappear

because the elves came out at night.

Your Fraulein knew exactly

what Hitler was doing. They all knew.

-Did she lift a finger?

-You don't know a thing about her.

And you do?

Just because you're a German

doesn't make you a Nazi.

You heard Breimer.

It's on to the Russians.

The next war.

They'll leave your girlfriend alone unless

there's some special reason not to.

It's gonna cost me

to get her out of Germany...

... I can tell you that right now.

I wish I could help you out, kid.

You want an hour with her?

Beautiful day, huh?

Are you looking for an argument?

I'm sorry I broke your tooth.

It was an honest disagreement.

What do you need?

Papers.

To get someone out of Germany.

-A Nazi?

-Not a Nazi. A friend of mine.

With what I've been through, you'd

ask me to help a Nazi escape Germany?

Hey, cry me a river.

F***, everyone in this town's

got a hard-luck story.

You gonna help me or not?

I'll see what I can do.

Great. Just don't Jew me on the price.

Lena?

-Where's Emil Brandt?

-Who?

-Emil Brandt.

-Who the f*** is Emil Brandt?

-Where's Emil Brandt?

-F*** you!

F***!

Who's Emil Brandt?

-Emil?

-Who is he?

They were looking for him

in your place, Lena. Where is he?

-He's dead.

-Don't lie to me!

He died.

He died in the war.

Like you f***ing know! Who is he?

He was my husband.

Lena?

-Emil Brandt. That's your husband?

-Yes.

I'm Lena Brandt.

-A last name. What a cozy feeling.

-Tully--

He must have done something

if they're hopped up to find him.

I'm gonna find out sooner or later!

He was a mathematician.

He saw numbers in his head?

It's bullshit! They broke my f***ing arm!

He was a nobody.

-Somebody's secretary.

-Whose secretary?

What does it matter who?

My husband brought him his coffee

and took steno.

When's the last time you saw him?

Three-- Three years ago.

I'm with you now, Tully.

How am I supposed to help you, Lena,

if you won't help me?

I would never hurt you, Tully.

Never.

You can get anything

on the black market.

I talked to someone.

A little lop-cock, no legs...

... but he can run down anything.

He can get you on a train out.

That's what you want, right?

They told me he was dead.

One more dead, or not dead.

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