For the first
time, the fog beyond Zhukovs window has cleared. Both men rush to the opening.
To their common amazement, it is Berlin at the Brandenburg Gate. Slowly the
scene changes as the two observers recognize themselves just beyond the gate.
Then it all comes into view, a lineup of military might waiting for the signal
to begin a parade--miles and miles of troops, tanks, artillery, carriers of every
sort, contingents from every nation that had contributed to the victory, an
astounding collection of men and might.
ñLook, Georgi! You and I standing together in front--ready to lead the grand
parade. Do you remember how you intended to outmaneuver me and be the first of
the first? Suddenly you jumped into a staff vehicle, turned around, and began
the long drive to the rear. You intended to review the parade alone before it
even started. When I finally figured that out, I too commandeered a vehicle and
raced to catch up until I was parallel with you. What did you think when you
discovered me traveling with you, eye to eye?î
ñWhat did I think? ïWhy you damn imperialist, what the devil are you doing
here?î
Sure enough, two
staff cars, each with a full star commander inside, both of whom appear to be
reviewing the waiting troops, even as they move along side by side in their
separate vehicles. Finally, at the end of the line, several kilometers to the
rear, the two vehicles turn around and race back to the lead. The signal is
given, and the parade commences with the two generals marching together under
the wrecked Brandenburg Gate toward the reviewing stand. A fog descends on
Zhukovs window; the two men salute each other and break into spontaneous and
unrestrained laughter.
