“Mein Kapitän,” he continued turning to me, “I was surprised to learn that, in addition to the German-speaking men, you have American Army and Air Force men working for you. Fifty, perhaps even more. Yet we never see most of them. I asked myself, are they invisible as they move around Berlin. No, I conclude. They must be building something inside of Tempelhof. You have now almost finished construction under Hanger 1. Are you all going to leave Berlin now?”
I smiled in response. He continued in English, “Or perhaps this is all a—let’s see, you call it a red herring. I believe you’re just trying to make a fool of me.” Standing, Dieter tipped his hat and walked toward the nearby subway station.
Aware that Stasi watchers remained, I fought the onset of a panic attack by sitting rigidly in my chair. Anna sensed my distress, grabbed my hands and whispered, “Breathe in.”
Finally, I took one, and then several, sips of beer. I even managed a few chips. My mind raced as I tried to remember every word uttered by Dieter. The security committee’s interpretation of each nuance and phrase might be relevant. Collectively, we would have to find a way forward.
Chapter 68
Monday, April 24, 1961
The emergency meeting of the security committee was in its second hour before Scott, Kurt, Mark, and I discussed our next moves. At this point, Kurt revealed, “The nuclear-hardened command facilities at Clay Headquarters will be the real thing. It will be used by the senior military and civilian people in Berlin, including the senior Berlin Mission personnel, whose offices are located in adjacent buildings.”
Amazed, I said, “So our local commanders are expecting to direct us from a nuclear-hardened headquarters if war comes. Communist forces could easily overrun that facility less than an hour after hostilities begin. And nuclear hardening! Why bother?”
“This is a part of the American government’s reaction in-kind policy. They built five nuclear-hardened sites in East Berlin, so we build one big one. No mystery there,” Kurt contended.
“Dieter Holburg has some preconceived notions about what we’re up to, hence all of our actions from now on need to meet those expectations,” Mark concluded. “Now, we need to decide how to react to his meeting with Robert.”
Several decisions were made by the group.
I would continue to go over to the American Mission building four days a week but would walk from it to the Clay Headquarters building next door. My ride in the trunk of a car each day would commence from there. “There are hundreds of Germans who work in various capacities in and around the American Mission building. Robert’s movements will certainly be reported to the Stasi,” Kurt said to reinforce that decision.
Beginning the next week, some of our day-shift personnel would take a US Air Force blue bus to Clay Headquarters, morning and evening, then travel to and from the tunnel building in vans which will operate out of a secure underground parking garage in that complex. Mark assigned Scott and Kurt to make this concept a reality.
The remainder of the crew would continue to exit and enter the base through the airport arrival hall entrance or steam tunnel.
We all continued to speculate on Deter Holburg’s statement that the Stasi was “close to the truth—very close—a few weeks and I’ll have a solution to the mystery of what Herr Kapitän Kerr and his crew are really doing in Berlin.”
“Sounds to me as if they have a human source who knows and might be persuaded to tell them but hasn’t yet,” Kurt said.
“It’s got to be one of my men, but who? The Chief and Sergeant Loring have been told to keep trying to find the leak,” I said.
As the meeting broke up, I turned to Kurt. “The CIA was assigned the task of determining the exact route of the communist communication pipe in our target vacant lot shortly after I arrived in October. We’re running out of time. We’ll be underneath the vacant lot in less than three months…”
“—We’ve sent agents who have produced both still photos and even conducted a motion picture survey of the vacant lot,” Kurt replied. “You and experts back in Washington have evaluated those films. There are a few clues, but no one, including you, has been willing to decide if those signs of excavation are sufficient to determine an exact route.”
“Have they tried everything?” Mark asked.
“There is so much ferrous metal buried in that area, metal detectors have proven useless,” Kurt answered. “We’re out of ideas. One of our guys even suggested we start digging exploration holes in the middle of the night. Our best intelligence is that it was somewhere in the easternmost third of that vacant lot.”
“If we don’t find a solution soon, Kurt, I’ll be forced to make this an issue with the triumvirate,” Mark stated in a deliberate, but calm tone.
Scott stayed behind after the others left. With a broad grin on his face, he said, “Robbie, my friend, I think it’s time for you and me to view that vacant lot close up. Perhaps we’ll see something the others missed.”
“You’re suggesting the two of us go into East Berlin and…”
“—Solve this problem here and now,” Scott interjected.
“If we go there in uniform, it would be a dead giveaway we’re up to something in that specific area. Even if we go over in civilian clothes, we’ll be followed.”
“So, we go over disguised as East German workers.”
“Are you crazy?!”
“When you first arrived, we went on a tour of Berlin and I took you by Bernauerstrasse. Through contacts in the East, I’ve rented an apartment on that street and stocked it with disguises of all forms. We leave West Berlin by going through the front door of that apartment building and stop by the apartment I rented. We change into clothes appropriate for our mission and we enter East Berlin by exiting through the back garden. Thus, we adroitly avoid the eighty-one checkpoints the East Germans rigorously control. We move freely throughout the city, and we return to the West in the same way. I devised this entrance and escape route to extricate our errant youth from East Berlin. I’ve been over several times, and I guess I can brag—Kurt’s men have also used my apartment on occasion.”
“You’ve got to be joking. If we’re caught…”
“—We won’t get caught because May Day is the perfect day for such a mission. Dieter Holburg and all of his associates will be at the big celebration. May Day is the largest celebration on the communist calendar. It combines Memorial Day, Independence Day, and Labor Day into one celebration. It’s the day when all loyal communists are present to see and be seen by their peers, subordinates, and superiors.”
“Yes, but….”
“—We won’t get caught. If we are, we’ll have our passports and military ID cards with us and we’ll talk our way out. It’ll be something to tell your grandchildren.”
Chapter 69
Press Release
Monday, May 1, 1961
General German News Service, the German Democratic Republic’s official propaganda organ, released the following day, May 2, 1961:
MAY 1. To celebrate International Worker’s Day, a massive military parade was held in East Berlin. Walter Ulbricht, Head of the East German State, his Prime Minister Otto Grothwohl, Defense Minister General Heinz Hoffman, General Ivan Jakubowski, Supreme Commander of Soviet Troops in East Germany, and numerous officials watched from the Reviewing Stand that was decorated with a banner reading: “FATHERLAND, PEACE, SOCIALISM - WE SHALL BE VICTORIOUS.”
Officers of the Military Academy Friedrich Engels and Cadets of East German Officer schools headed the marching columns, consisting of paramilitary units, and civilians, as well as marching East German troops. There were numerous armored vehicles and guns in the parade, including T-54 tanks, amphibious craft, armored cars, anti-aircraft guns, howitzers, and anti-tank cannons. For the first time, six Russian made surface-to-air missiles on carriers were displayed. This is the type that brought down the American U-2 spy plane last year.
Chapter 70
Monday-Tuesday, May 1-2, 1961
Looking at himself in the mirror, after having me turn around, Scott declared, “Perfect. We look just like two construction workers who are determined to attend the May Day celebration wearing their finest clothes. We’ll blend right in with the millions of other underpaid workers of this communist paradise.”
With more than a little trepidation, I followed him out the back door of the apartment house and through a backyard garden into East Berlin.
Although the subway ride to the Ost Bahnhof (East Train Station) was uneventful, I felt nervous, sure that disaster was inevitable. As we exited the station, I relaxed a bit until Scott came up beside me and tugged on his ear. Translation: we were being followed. Stunned, I froze.
Scott took off his hat, scratched his head, shook my hand, and bowed slightly. He whispered, “I’ll get this guy to follow me. If you don’t see me again, I was successful. Auf Wiedersehen.”
You’re alone—deep breaths—recall your training—SELCH. Review the five.“S” Situational Awareness…..
By taking a random route, I determined that I was probably not being followed. That helped me unwind a little.
Now what, Robbie? Deep breaths. You’re a spy who’s scared shitless. Do what you came to do and then get the hell out of here!
There must be surface evidence of the route of the communications pipe, I decided.
Go through the acronym—SELCH. The last one: “Hide your Intentions.”
Turning around, I surveyed the vacant lot while pretending to gaze at the river and view. Construction debris surrounded a long, continuous almost invisible mound of earth in the middle of the lot.
That could be it. I can almost visualize the trench before it was filled in.
Beyond the mound were the train tracks, more vacant lots sloping downward, two fences topped with barbed wire, and a sentry post to one side of two VoPos—then the River Spree. Perhaps 1500 feet away, I saw our building with its distinctive dome.
Back at the train station, I noticed the sidewalk had been cut to dig what I hoped was the trench for the pipe.
Interesting. This point lines up with the mounded earth, which extends several hundred feet straight ahead.
I retraced my steps, hoping anyone who observed my behavior would assume that I was pacing back and forth as if waiting for someone.
Again, on the sidewalk adjacent to the vacant lot, I tried to see the south side of our building. I knew that the path of our tunnel ran parallel to it.
When I could no longer see that side of our building, I pretended to walk over to the mound to examine some debris. This allowed me to pace off the distance from the edge of the sidewalk to the center of the pile. Thirty-two feet. I moved a large piece of broken concrete to that spot. Since the sidewalk and train station appeared on the public works drawings in my office, I now had two known points of reference.
Back on the sidewalk, I paced off two-hundred-fifty-four feet to the southeast corner of the East terminal building. Since my pace is almost exactly three feet, I made these measurements with reasonable accuracy. Retracing my steps, I moved the boulder four feet to the north. With any luck, that spot was atop our target—the communications pipe.
Eat your heart out, James Bond. A trained Civil Engineer spy is better than you in this aspect of the game.
Having completed my mission, I returned to the East Train Station, made my way to the subway platform and waited for the next train. I tried to be inconspicuous by standing among other passengers on the platform used for northbound trains.
I sensed I was being watched. Looking up, I saw that a well-dressed man wearing a fedora was staring at me.
How did I give my cover away? I’m dressed like thousands of other lower-class workers on holiday. Perhaps I don’t walk, act, or move like a subservient peasant.
I walked out of his field-of-view, then turned and glanced up. His gaze remained on the same spot, obviously lost in thought.
Relieved by his disinterest, I still boarded a different car and took a seat along the side in order to watch the rest of the passengers. No one appeared to be interested in me. I held my copy of the East German propaganda newspaper, Neues-Deutschland, in front of my face and avoided eye contact with anyone for the entire trip.
The Bernauerstrasse train station was only four blocks from Scott’s apartment and its easy exit into West Berlin. One man followed me out of the station and onto a side street. I window shopped at a small appliance store while he passed me by. Walking on, then turning left into an alleyway, I entered the back garden and used the key Scott had given me to open the back door of the apartment building.
Relieved that I’d made it to a safe place, I rested with my back against the back door and breathed deeply. Suddenly one of the residents opened the apartment door immediately to my right. I was stunned. A massive man in a commanding voice bellowed, “Guten Tag, comrade. Glücklicher Maifeiertag.”
In response to his greeting me as his fellow communist, and wishing me a good May Day, I mumbled, “Guten Tag.” With a panic attack imminent, I struggled to negotiate the hall. Lightheaded with my heart thumping, I managed to ascend the three flights. My hand shook so violently it took what seemed like several minutes to fit the key into the deadbolt lock. The door opened. I fell to the floor, managing to kick the door closed with my left foot.
My lengthy panic attack had almost subsided when a German workman in a slouch hat barged into the apartment. I jumped to my feet and thrust the intruder to the side, desperate to flee. I gripped the door latch as the man behind me said in English, “Settle down old buddy. Did you get what you needed, Kemosabe?”
“Yes, I did. What’s this Kemosabe crap?” I felt both reassured and stressed.
“You know the Lone Ranger’s faithful companion, Tonto, gave him that name. Tonto was always saving his ass, just like I did for you today,” he replied, laughing.
Within an hour, we celebrated our foray with pints at the Grossbritannien. During our conversation, Scott revealed, “We weren’t really being followed. I just wanted you to stay alert while I completed another mission.” He then revealed the purpose of his wardrobe change.
After two beers, I went home to Anna. We had accomplished our objective, but I remained shaken.
I lacked James Bond’s nerves of steel.
At the meeting of the Security Committee the next day, Scott and I described our exploits.
Mark Powell said, “Colonel Morgan would have raised hell if you’d been caught, and most of the skin would have been taken off my ass.”
“But, sir, it was….”
“You could’ve at least brought me in on your scheme,” he insisted.
“We feared that you’d squelch the idea and we’re running out of time,” I protested.
Before Mark could reply, Kurt said, “My men have spent countless hours trying to find the communication pipe’s route. They weren’t prepared to see what was obviously there. A trained eye solved this problem. We should all be pleased!”
Scott handed Kurt a small piece of metal—roundish, dull gray on one side and somewhat shiny with a serrated surface on the other.
“Is this what I think it is?” Kurt asked.
“Yes, it is. The area around the Kupfergraben Canal was deserted yesterday. I borrowed a small boat and managed to get it under the pipe Robert located last week. Climbing on top of the wheelhouse, I used my folding hacksaw to remove that piece.”
“I’ll send this off to Washington via courier immediately,” Kurt said, smiling. “This bit of metal will allow us to de
termine the Soviet solution to EMP hardening, and it may help us to find a way to negate the protection they believe it provides.”
The committee covered other topics and was about to adjourn when I said, “Kurt, I need one of your men to place this exactly five feet above a piece of concrete in the vacant lot. It’s a surveyor’s target.”
“From your description, there are a large number of bits of cement scattered on that mound of earth. How can we ensure he finds the correct piece of concrete?”
“I placed an American half-dollar coin under that particular piece. Once you put the surveyor’s target in place, I can use a theodolite to accurately determine the location of their pipe relative to our tunnel.”
“I know what to do. We’ll find a No Dumping sign and place this on its back. Hiding it in plain sight…”
On Wednesday of the next week, I spent several hours on the roof of our building with my theodolite pointed at the back of the No Dumping sign. After intense calculations, I determined that the sign and, hopefully, the communications pipe were in a straight line, precisely 1846 feet from the entrance to the tunnel.
Feet of Tunnel Completed: 807 Days until Deadline: 149
Chapter 71
Monday, May 22, 1961
Three weeks later, I traveled to the States and attended a meeting with the triumvirate in Gerald’s conference room at NSA Headquarters at Fort Meade, Maryland. My briefing was the primary topic on the agenda, and the first part had gone smoothly. I’d used slides to show how we had completely sealed the section of the tunnel under the River Spree.
In conclusion, I said, “Just before I left Berlin, I walked over a thousand feet from the tunnel entrance past both pressure doors, which are now open, all the way to the TBM. Our air handling system is distributing fresh air throughout the tunnel, and we began normal one-atmosphere digging operations this morning.”
The Berlin Tunnel Page 19