While we ate, she explained how the subways and interurban system worked. “One can go virtually anywhere in either East or West Berlin on the subway. It is an excellent system.”
“No one stops you from travel into East Berlin?” I asked.
“Travel is unrestricted between the two areas of Berlin—it is part of the Four Power Agreement on Berlin signed after the war.”
After we shared a dessert of spumoni ice cream, we walked to the subway station. I offered my arm. As she turned toward me, my arm accidentally brushed against her breast. She quickly pulled away.
“Sorry,” I apologized, “that was an accident.”
She hesitated, then smiled and latched onto my arm.
At the subway stairs, I offered, “It is not very late. May I see you safely to your door?”
“No, thank you. Women are perfectly safe on the streets of Berlin at any hour—day or night.”
I took her hand, kissed it lightly and said, “Thank you for helping me to stay awake.”
To my surprise—and delight—she hugged me and pressed her lips to the side of my neck. I smiled and touched her cheek, staring into her eyes for several seconds. She eased away, and I watched as she descended the stairs to the subway. Still smiling, she looked back and waved to me from the bottom of the steps.
Chapter 6
Wednesday-Thursday, October 12-13, 1960
When I arrived back at my BOQ room, I looked at my watch—only 20 hours until I could go to bed. I had to report for duty at 0800 on Friday, so I needed to stay awake.
First, I went to the gym on the sixth floor, did an hour of calisthenics, and then took a shower. Only eighteen hours to go.
The rest of the night I sat at the desk. I tried to stay awake by reading, but I struggled to concentrate on the book. All I could see was Anna’s face. Those striking violet-blue eyes. The hair tucked behind her ears, those inviting ears with the tiny pearl studs. The perfect teeth and effervescent smile. The reserved, yet endearing way she tilted her head a little to the left as she responded to my questions and comments. Maybe Berlin wouldn’t be such a bad place after all. Now I had an excellent reason to stay.
Hours later, I still sat in the desk chair. My forehead rested on the book and my back ached. The clock on the end table read 6:55. It had to be morning, so I still had fourteen hours to go. I decided I needed to get out of that room, because the only other option was bed and sleep.
When I exited the elevator, I buttoned my coat because it was cold and still dark. I wondered if it might just be evening, then remembered that sunrise occurred at around 7:30 a.m. in Berlin this time of year.
A stack of Stars and Stripes newspapers covered a corner of the cashier’s desk at the Officer’s Club. I noticed the headline, which occupied almost the entire space above the fold.
WE WILL
BURY YOU
—Khrushchev
I purchased a copy. As I scanned the front page, I realized that for Americans stationed overseas, this newspaper provided a vital link to events happening at home and around the world. I didn’t like what this headline portended.
At a little after 4 p.m., I went to the bookstore. I didn’t see Anna. When I asked for her, the clerk indicated the small office in the back. I knocked on the door.
“Come in.”
As she rose to greet me, I was again attracted by her winsome smile and almost forgot what my excuse for going to the bookstore was, but finally blurted out, “I’ve managed to stay awake, but I’m fading fast. I’ll probably go to sleep after a beer and hamburger at the Officer’s Club. I need your help—I looked at two nearby apartments on the base housing office list. Neither was acceptable.”
“I’m not surprised,” Anna replied, a little bemused. “We Germans always increase the price for Americans, because you seem to have so much money. Do you have the list with you?”
“Yes, right here.”
“I will need to study this and consider your options. Perhaps you could return tomorrow.”
“Gladly! I don’t want anything too far away from the base. Perhaps you would be willing to show me Berlin. We could go out and have another meal, my treat.”
She smiled, “I accept your invitation.”
“At 5 p.m. tomorrow, here?”
“Yes, that would be best.”
We stood close together as we talked. I took Anna’s right hand and was contemplating kissing it or her when a knock sounded on the door. She gestured for me to follow her into the bookstore. Not wanting to interfere with her work, I walked toward the exit. I looked back at her. She waved furtively and smiled.
Chapter 7
Friday, October 14, 1960
After sleeping soundly, I arrived at the tank a few minutes before 0800.
Colonel Powell greeted me. “Let’s go upstairs to our Signals Intelligence Collections Center. I can show you the types of information we’ll be collecting at the signals exploitation site in the building at the end of our tunnel.”
Surreal accurately describes all that he showed me.
“The men in this room are plotting the movement of Russian and East European Air Forces on these giant maps of the surrounding area. All of this information is broadcast over the air using wireless media, which we intercept with the antennas on the roof of this building.” He gestured to the next area. “These are manual Morse intercept operators. This rather archaic form of communications is used by the vast majority of Soviet and Warsaw Pact forces, because it is reliable, effective and relatively inexpensive.”
In another area, Mark said, “The individuals with headphones are linguists. They listen to Russian, East German, Polish and Czechoslovakian wireless conversations.”
Moving into the largest of the four rooms, he explained, “The men in this room intercept teletype signals. They print out the information and linguists translate it. Sometimes the messages are encrypted. Then, the cryptologists try to break the code, either here or back at NSA.”
“So, we can determine everything the communists are doing by listening in on their communications with each other. Amazing!”
“Exactly. Our military forces have always excelled, because personnel at all levels exercise individual initiative to solve problems on the spot. Communists are taught to follow orders blindly and to seek guidance from superiors before acting. So, we know what they are going to do long before their subordinates act. That’s a huge advantage.”
Once back in the tank, Mark said, “At this point in time, almost ninety percent of the useful intelligence information we and our allies have is derived from intercept sites like the one we just toured. We have sites like this surrounding the communist world.”
Perplexed, I asked, “Why tap into buried cables, especially with vast amounts of information available from broadcasts that travel through the air?”
“The communist countries are switching from broadcast mode, which we can intercept, to buried landlines. They intend to deny us as much information as possible.”
“Makes sense.”
“I told you there was another tunnel. I want you to review a detailed report on that program. I’ll return at 1500 this afternoon. We’ll discuss what you’ve read.”
He handed me a forty-four-page joint CIA/British MI6 report on the 1953 to 1956 Berlin Tunnel and excused himself. It was codeword classified:
TOP SECRET / LIMITED DISTRIBUTION
GOLD/STOPWATCH—US/UK EYES ONLY
I carefully read the entire report, and even went back and reread the description of the construction of the tunnel.
At the appointed time, Colonel Powell returned, took off his coat and rolled up his sleeves. “When only the two of us are working together in this area, call me Mark. I’ll call you Robert.”
“Thank you, sir. I like working informally. Let me summarize what I’ve read, in case I missed something important.”
“Sounds good.”
“Our CIA and the British Secret Intelligence Service built a large war
ehouse with an exceptionally deep basement. A two-meter boring machine dug the tunnel, while a trailing structure called a tunnel shield supported the surrounding soil. Cast-iron curved plates were then installed to serve as the tunnel’s top and sides. That tunnel was 1480 feet long, coincidentally almost the same length ours will be.”
“That tunnel was located 15 miles south of here in a part of the American Zone that’s a sparsely populated forest,” Mark explained. “Since then, the East Germans patrol most of the border using devices designed to detect underground excavations.”
“Interesting. I assume that’s part of the reason our tunnel entrance is in an urban area and will go under a river,” I observed.
“Exactly,” Mark replied.
“To continue, it took them eight months to build the warehouse. Then another ten months from the time they started tunneling until the first successful tap of Soviet communications. An impressive feat made much easier by the fact the tunnel started and ended at a shallow depth and the underground cable location was accurately known to be under a paved road. We have a daunting task. We must excavate under a deep, wide river and find an imprecisely located target.”
“Your predecessor decided to solve that problem by digging a deep pit and installing an elevator. He proposed to begin tunneling operations sixty feet below street level.”
“Mark, supporting the soil around a sixty-foot deep pit is a difficult engineering feat. It requires experienced people.”
“Your team of thirty-four men from the Army Corp of Engineers will report for duty in three months.”
“Have they ever built a pit and tunnel?”
“Soon, you’ll visit Washington D.C. so those in charge of this project can meet you and approve your plans. You can determine the building skills of your staff during that trip. Let’s discuss the tunneling operation itself.”
I nodded. “Good idea. That’ll help me prepare for my trip to the States.”
“You’ll find that the two-meter boring machine used to dig the first tunnel is very similar to the three-meter wide one we’ve purchased. Our system will be equipped with two small outrigger boring heads, which will allow our tunnel to have a flat bottom. It’s also equipped with an automatic soil removal subsystem, and a mechanical erector which places the concrete tunnel lining components in place.”
“Tunnel lining components?”
“Two round sections form the top, and four straight sections form the sides and flat bottom of the tunnel. We purchased ten sets of molds. Your predecessor wanted them made off-site and trucked into the building in covered trucks.”
“Makes sense, I guess.”
“We’ve been assigned the largest hanger on the base for this project. The Tunnel Boring Machine will be flown in and stored there. Everyone calls this machine a TBM, instead of constantly saying Tunnel Boring Machine. It’ll be delivered to Rhein-Main Air Base next week. We’ve arranged for a huge, new propeller-driven aircraft called the Pregnant Guppy to fly it here in two weeks.”
“Why don’t you just bring the TBM into Berlin by rail or truck?”
“The East Germans and Russians carefully examine all of the cargo that comes into Berlin. The Stasi and KGB would be informed that such a device was on its way. Spies of every form would trail it to the building, and the game would be over.”
“I have two questions. First, how do we get the TBM from the hangar to the building?”
“That’s one of your jobs, and it won’t be easy. All of our activities on this base are constantly monitored by the Russians and East Germans.”
“Another thorny problem—just what I need! Why’d they encase the cables in a metal tube? Usually, communications cables are just buried in the ground.”
“Through a clandestine source, we determined that the communications cables are housed in a galvanized iron pipe. Part of their initial efforts to harden their communications against the effects of the electromagnetic pulses created during nuclear explosions. Known as EMP, these pulses cause current and voltage surges, which apparently destroy, damage, or render inoperable electronic and communications devices.”
“I studied EMP in the Air Force Civil Engineering training course, so I understand what the Russians are trying to do.”
“Fortunately, tapping into the tube is not our problem. NSA has a trained staff to undertake that part of the process once we dig the tunnel and expose its outer surface.”
Mark glanced at his watch and shrugged into his coat. “Please spend the rest of the day studying the tunnel boring equipment documentation and the plans for the building.” He handed me the stack of manuals and drawings.
“You have orientation on Monday. I’ll see you Tuesday at 0800.” He shook my hand. “We’re scheduled for a tunnel kickoff meeting with our Commanding General, Richard Harrison, here in this tank next Wednesday. You’ll find him to be an excellent commanding officer.”
Nothing I’d learned allayed my fear that I was on a fool’s errand. My completion deadline was several months shorter then the previous endeavor. As well, the project would be far more complex in execution than the first tunnel.
The hours passed as I pondered the situation. Concentrating on the intricacies of the project became impossible, as my thoughts kept returning to Anna. We hadn’t yet gone out on our first real date, yet I believed the attraction between us was mutual. Now I had an incentive to stay in Berlin, despite the seemingly impossible assignment I’d been given.
Chapter 8
Friday, October 14, 1960
Anna was in her office when I arrived for our date. I knocked on the door. When I entered, she was standing beside the desk. I could tell she had taken special care with her appearance—her long hair was arranged in a neat bun and her attire feminine and flirty.
“Anna, you look stunning, but it is cold outside. You will freeze.”
“Oh, I have a sweater and a coat. Unfortunately, I have not found any apartments for us to look at, but next Saturday we will find one for sure.”
“I can wait until then.”
“I have a couple of errands I need to run. Would you mind?
“Of course not.”
“Great, I can show you the best parts of Berlin before we eat. Do you like to dance?”
“Yes, I love to dance.”
“Then I may know a perfect place for your introduction to Germany.”
I helped her into her sweater and coat, thinking that it was a shame to cover her lovely figure.
As we walked to the Tempelhof subway station, I asked, “Is it always this cold in mid-October?”
This is just the start of our weather which will not be good again until spring. Sometimes, we go weeks without seeing the sun even once.”
As we stood on the platform to wait for a train, I asked, “Where are we going?”
“Kurfurstendamm. It is the heart of West Berlin, much like the Champs Elysees in Paris or Times Square in New York. You’ll see.”
One train change later, we stood on a broad, partially tree-lined boulevard that separated two solid lines of brightly lit, multi-storied businesses. The gloomy, damp night instantly transformed into an inviting haven of flashing neon signs, and closely spaced, bright street lamps.
The expensive, larger shops and hotels were interspersed with block after block of small specialty shops, bookstores, restaurants, cinemas, nightclubs, cafes, and bars. The scarcity of architecturally distinct structures reflected the haste with which the area had been rebuilt during the fifteen years since the war.
Seeing my amazement as crowds of people rushed every which way, Anna told me, “It is Friday evening, so everyone is preparing for the weekend. Almost all Berliners come here at least once a week to shop, dine, or be entertained.”
Taking my hand, Anna led me two blocks down the street to a ruin. “This is all that is left of the Neo-Romanesque Protestant Church where the Emperors of Germany worshiped—it is called the Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church.”
“It must ha
ve been an impressive structure at one time.”
“Yes, but in November of 1943, a British air raid on Berlin destroyed all except this.” She waved her hand upward. “It is being preserved as a memorial to those who died in the World War Two.”
I studied what remained. “The damaged roof of the bell tower and entry hall are open to the elements.”
“Yes, and the windows and front doors have not been replaced, but the clock in the tower works—defying the worst that man could inflict on it.”
Pointing, she explained, “That figure of Christ was salvaged from the church altar.” After pausing for a minute before the statue, Anna turned to me. “Now we shall do our shopping.”
First, she led me down a side street into a chocolate shop. Once inside, she said, “Herr Schultz, please help me select all of papa and mama’s favorites.”
After much banter between them, the proprietor placed a dozen sweets into a box and placed it in a paper bag with a handle. He also offered us each a truffle which I complimented by saying, “Das ist köstlich,” (That is delicious).
As we left, Herr Schultz half-bowed. “Fraulein Fischer, please give your father my kindest regards. Thank you for shopping here. Have a good night.”
We walked to a coffee and tea emporium, and later, a bookstore. Each proprietor respectfully addressed Anna as Fraulein Fischer and each one asked to be remembered by members of her family.
“We are finished shopping. Now we can have fun. I would suggest we go to the Hofbrauhaus. You will like it—it is very German.”
During our time together, Anna and I switched between English and German. I pointed out how contractions and slang would make her English sentences less formal. She noted my use of the wrong gender for German nouns. We were getting acquainted through language lessons and laughing at miscues. Mostly mine.
The Hofbrauhaus was located down two flights of stairs in a basement. Massive arches decorated with painted grapevines were supported by pillars. At one end of the hall, a band played oom-pah music. The tuba, accordion, clarinet, and trombone players soon finished a lively polka and began a slower waltz.
The Berlin Tunnel Page 4