U.S. At War: Bringing Cologne to Life

It was enough to make Richard Wagner turn in his grave. On the great stage of the roofless, littered Cologne Opera House a skinny little doughboy, shrouded in the pretentious livery of Siegfried, sang “Saint Louis Woman . . .” to a buxom, bearded, Brünnhilde. A G.I. strode past, sporting a foot-high Cossack hat of white fur. Romeo, a Matterhorn of meat and muscle, was there, and Juliet, too, her black wig on backwards. One battle-grimed dough-foot had abandoned his bazooka for a slide trombone. Seven pianos were going at once.

In the dusk outside, German Haus-frauen listened in bewilderment to the discordant doughboy opera. The irreverent G.I.s, having captured the opera house and set up a command post there, had found the property room intact. Tired as they were, the temptation to dress up and put on a show was too much for them. The performance lasted two hours.

Not so funny was the aspect of pulverized Cologne that confronted the 17 officers and 47 enlisted men of the U.S. Army’s Military Government* who will have to administer the city for a long time.

Taught by Experience. They had moved into this wasteland of “wrecked masonry surrounded by city limits” on the hot heels of the doughboys. They had been preparing for their job since last September. They knew from aerial maps what damage the city had taken. They were familiar with its industries, its former government, its utilities. Colonel Patterson and his staff had worked out instructions for banks, police and fire officials, postmaster, communications men and all necessary functionaries.

Behind them were A.M.G.’s experiences in Italy (since September 1943), and M.G.’s work in Aachen and other smaller German cities in the U.S. occupation zone.

But Cologne was what M.G. had been training for. In Italy, no large manufacturing centers had yet been liberated. In Germany, the dense population centers, except Cologne, lay beyond the Rhine. M.G.’s success or failure in Cologne would set the pattern for the control commissions which will govern Germany after its armies are beaten.

Government by Loudspeaker. So far as M.G. was concerned, the Allied armed forces had done their job too well. All of Cologne’s famed hotels, her great banks, office and municipal buildings and most of her homes were gone. Of the prewar population of nearly 800,000 citizens, M.G. estimated that all but about 100,000 had fled. Last week their introduction to the American way began.

Sound trucks bumped through the smashed streets, telling the people to turn in their firearms, to stay away from the Rhine front, to be in their homes between 6 p.m. and 7 a.m., and not to leave the city. The loudspeakers also gave them their first unadulterated news—via the BBC—in years.

These were the first steps toward establishing the security which js M.G.’s chief job. Thanks to the experience of Aachen, M.G. moved fast and seemed to know what it was doing. An ex-police chief removed by the Nazis in 1933 was found and reinstated, as were 123 cops who passed the M.G. muster. As each resident was registered and fingerprinted, he got a ration card. With the assistance of 63 ex-telephone-company employes, telephone service was partially restored.

One power plant was found undamaged, thanks to its manager, who tricked the Wehrmacht into thinking he had sabotaged its essential parts. A newspaper printing plant had also survived, would soon be turning out an M.G. edition.

Virginibus Puerisque. It was a fair enough start, but the hardest work lay ahead. Members of the Wehrmacht who had changed into civilian clothes had to be rounded up. Somehow, the children would have to be re-educated. Then there was the problem of sifting out the Nazis. Later, the problem of a Nazi underground might also arise.

There was the mood of the people, too. Although adequately dressed and seemingly well fed, they were pale from long days of living and working in cellars. When the fighting had passed, many expressed their relief in outbursts of uncontrollable laughter. But M.G.ers, watching the way little children shuddered at the noise of heavy bombers passing overhead, the way their parents listened to the heavy shells going over, knew that their next mood would be profound depression. Yet, somehow, M.G. had to work with and through them. It was not a happy prospect.

*Not to be confused with the Allied Military Government (A.M.G.), a joint U.S.British venture operating in conquered territories outside of Germany.