The Berlin Tunnel

by Roger L Liles

  “Nervous, sir?”

  “Not really. We were legally married yesterday before a justice of the peace—today is just a celebration.”

  “We appreciate your invitation and will be there with bells on, won’t we, Chief.”

  Feet of Tunnel Completed: 1669 Days until Deadline: 85

  Chapter 82

  Tuesday, July 4, 1961

  As we walked down the aisle arm-in-arm without any attendants, I looked over at my beautiful fairy princess. She was radiant. I felt like the luckiest man on earth.

  Her mother and my father took their places beside us. Grandpa Gunther blessed us and talked about the sanctity of marriage. He then requested, “Robert Kerr, repeat after me, ‘I take you, Anna Fischer….’ ”

  After we read our vows, I took her engagement ring from her left hand and transferred it to her right hand. She did the same for me.

  Grandfather Gunther stated, “I now pronounce you man and wife in the sight of God and the church.”

  I took her in my arms. I kissed her so fervently that many individuals in the church began to whisper and then giggle. Someone even clapped.

  Grandfather Gunther announced, “I present Herr Captain and Frau Kerr.” We turned to face the assembled friends and family.

  Someone had decorated the three Volkswagen buses with ribbons, flowers, and signs that read, “Just Married” in German and English.

  I handed Anna an envelope, “This was delivered this morning to our apartment.”

  She excitedly ripped it open. “It’s from the University of California,” she began to read aloud. “We are glad to inform you that you have been accepted to the Spring Semester…. And at the bottom of the letter, they say that I have enough credits to graduate in one year.”

  “Anna, that’s wonderful. Just what you wanted. Can we tell Grandpa George and Grandma Inez we accept their offer?” I asked.

  “Yes. Oh, yes.”

  Chapter 83

  Tuesday, July 4, 1961

  Our mothers combined German and American wedding traditions into a unique wedding reception. Father Bernard served as the master of ceremony. After dinner and the cake cutting, he said, “It is now time for the Baumstamm Sägen, the traditional Log Sawing. Anna and Robert please come forward.”

  Putting his arms around both of us, he continued, “The log represents the first of many obstacles you will have to overcome in your life. The future is uncertain. You will have to face those obstacles together. This log sawing is good practice in working together.”

  We were handed a bow saw with ribbons tied to the handle. Many people left their seats to get a better view and to offer the advice they knew would be required.

  Our first efforts were greeted with good-natured banter:

  “Back and forth—just like sex.”

  “Slow and easy strokes.”

  “Wait until she is ready.”

  Finally, Anna said, “When you pull as I push the saw—the blade binds. See, when I push, you must provide only support, then you push back.”

  Soon we began a rhythmic back and forth motion and were quickly finished—we got a thunderous round of applause.

  As the log-sawing debris was cleaned up by the hotel staff, Bernard announced, “It is time for us to start the American tradition of the first dance…”

  Much later, Scott’s girlfriend, Mia failed to catch the bouquet, because of another guest’s athletic jump in front of her.

  When Anna was blindfolded for the traditional German wedding game of blindman’s bluff for single women, Mia won easily. I intentionally threw the garter in Scott’s face, so he had no choice but to grab it. Later, I saw that they were engaged in a very animated conversation—I knew what the subject had to be. He seemed to be on the defensive.

  Anna and I danced until the band stopped playing at 1 a.m. After convincing the diehards that the party was indeed over, we went to our room in the hotel and romantically began our lives as a married couple.

  Chapter 84

  Wednesday, July 5, 1961

  At a little after 3 a.m., the phone rang. I almost didn’t answer, assuming it was a wedding joke.

  “Hello.”

  “Captain Kerr, this is Chief Weber. We have a huge problem. You need to get over to the base now. I’ll notify the other members of the security committee. We’ll meet in your tank ASAP.”

  I had intentionally consumed little alcohol, but the Chief’s call still came as a shock.

  By the time I arrived, everyone was in my tank.

  “What’s up?”

  “Soon after I returned to the barracks, I got a phone call from William Perkins. He’s in East Berlin.”

  “He’s the Air Force linguist, the one who’s so fluent in German we’ve used him primarily as a truck driver,” I recalled.

  “That’s correct. Perkins was stationed at our Signal Intelligence intercept sites at both Hof, West Germany, and here in Berlin before going into the reserves at Fort Meade.”

  “He’s one of the guys who spends most of his time off base on the weekends?” I asked.

  “Exactly. All I know at this point in time is that he was drugged and taken to East Berlin. He managed to escape by using a tire iron to open the trunk lid of the car transporting him to the East. He’s hiding in a pension in the Herzberge District of East Berlin.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “Near Stasi headquarters,” Kurt replied.

  Mark asked, “Recommendations, gentlemen?”

  “It would be best if we could get him out without officially transiting any of their eighty-one checkpoints. They’ll have photos of him, and they will detain him if possible,” Kurt advised us, his deep concern evident.

  “We need to determine immediately what he’s told them. Damage control is essential,” Mark said.

  “Chief, have Sergeant Loring take four men and go over to the building. Increase the number of guards on the entrances and roof, and initiate a full-time foot patrol of the surrounding area,” I ordered.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Immediately inform us of any unusual activity via the KY-7 scrambler phone,” Mark ordered.

  “Kurt, you’ve used my apartment on Bernauerstrasse for a few of your operations,” Scott said. “What do you think?”

  “Unfortunately, I can do nothing without consulting my new boss, Thomas. He’ll use this whole situation to get at all of us, but especially Robert. I’m a known entity and shouldn’t become involved directly, if possible. This is really a military matter.”

  “Do you have any other suggestions?”

  “Perhaps you and Robert are ready for another spy mission into East Berlin,” Kurt suggested.

  Scott nodded, “If Perkins hasn’t already told them about the tunnel, he certainly will if he’s recaptured.”

  “I’m willing to risk going into the East again if you are, Scott. If we don’t, the whole tunnel-building project may come crashing down.”

  Mark shook his head. “When I told Colonel Morgan of your first excursion into the East, he was fit to be tied. We’ll have to get his approval. Given the circumstances, he may well concur we have no choice. There is too little time for him to seek guidance from his superiors.”

  An hour later, Mark returned from a trip to the Colonel Morgan’s quarters. With obvious trepidation, he said, “We have the Colonel’s approval. Just don’t get caught. If you are captured, I’m not sure whether you two or the Colonel and I will be in more trouble. The outcome won’t be pleasant for anyone.”

  I hadn’t told Scott about my panic attacks. Too late now. I was committed.

  Dressed in the same suits we had worn on our last spy mission, Scott and I exited through the back garden of the apartment on Bernauerstrasse. Our obvious objective was to retrieve Sergeant Perkins without getting caught by the East Germans.

  This time, we intended to blend in with the East Berliners as they made their way to work on a glorious summer morning. The Bernuerstrasse station was on the same sub
way line as our destination, the Frankfurter Alle station, so we didn’t need to change trains.

  We intentionally occupied different parts of the same car. We read copies of Neues Deutschland newspaper to look busy and hide our faces.

  If we were being followed, Scott would’ve pulled his ear. I relaxed, taking deep breaths and not actually reading what was in front of me for the almost twenty-minute ride.

  By previous agreement, I led the way to the pension where Perkins awaited us, Scott trailing me to assure we weren’t being followed and that no one waited outside.

  I started feeling light-headed when I reached the top of the subway stairs and stepped out into bright sunlight.

  Breathe deep, relax. Situational awareness. Walk purposefully. You’re on your way to work. Scott is behind you. Just relax—even strides—forward. You’ve memorized the route.

  Several blocks later, I reached the side street where I would turn left. I looked back but didn’t see Scott. Before departing the apartment, he’d said, “If I disappear, just keep going. I’ll join you, if and when I can.”

  Perkins sat on a sofa in the living room of the pension. He greeted me in German, saying, “My friend, please follow me.”

  Silently, we went into his room, where I handed him the large briefcase. He hurriedly changed into his German suit, which I’d taken from his locker in the dressing room at the base. He then donned the wig, glasses, and hat we’d selected from Scott’s mélange of disguises.

  “Here is your Green American Passport. Chief Weber took it out of your room. Fortunately, it makes no reference to you being in the U.S. military, but only show it if absolutely necessary and remember you speak no German. If stopped, we’re American tourists who need directions to find the West.”

  As Perkins and I walked to the subway station, I caught a glimpse of Scott. He pulled his earlobe and turned down a side street.

  I decided to return to the Bernauerstrasse apartment as soon as possible.

  Sergeant Perkins and I boarded the nearest subway train and sat together in silence. I looked at my wrist, remembering I’d left my wedding ring and American-made watch behind.

  Intently staring at my newspaper, I tried to act like another bored workman who rode on this same train every day. The guy next to me was a stranger.

  At Schillingstrasse station, two VoPos on the platform asked people for their papers. They walked toward our car and boarded just as the doors closed.

  Knowing we were trapped, I fought to remain calm. Perkins squirmed and seemed about to burst. I feared he would blow our cover by drawing attention to us.

  Several people occupied the subway car. One in particular received prolonged attention. Knowing that if we stayed in that car, our identity would be checked, I stood. Perkins joined me, and we exited the train at Alexanderplatz.

  Standing at the top of the stairs on the sidewalk in a strange city, I felt trapped. Referring to the map in my pocket would draw unwanted attention.

  Perkins looked like I felt when a panic attack was imminent. At the end of the next block I saw a gasthaus. We entered and found an inconspicuous booth in the back. I said, “You do all the talking, order breakfast for both of us,” placing a twenty East Mark bill on the table.

  While sipping my coffee and studying the map, I whispered, “It’s a mile to our destination. We’ll try to walk. Relax. We’re safe here.”

  The clock over the mirrored bar read 11:25 when we exited the gasthaus.

  After getting my bearings, we turned north. I was shocked. The streets appeared deserted, yet there seemed to be VoPos every block or two. With most people at work, we were too conspicuous. I grabbed Perkins’ arm and steered him into a tobacconist shop to avoid two VoPos heading for us on the sidewalk.

  We purchased two packs of Bulgarian-made cigarettes and a magazine. “Streichhölzer, bitte,” I requested. The proprietor gave me a small wooden box of matches. After we had exited the store, I said to Perkins, “Go back and purchase a can of lighter fluid.”

  Heading back to the subway station, we encountered more VoPos.

  We must lay low until workers start heading home this afternoon, I thought.

  As we neared Alexanderplatz again, I saw a movie theater. The subtitled, double feature was an old American Western starring a very young Gene Autry, and a Russian film about the 1917 revolution and the sailors on the Battleship Potemkin. We purchased tickets and snacks, then settled in for the afternoon.

  While the movies played, I mulled over our next move, deciding on a diversion.

  The huge 24-hour clock in the Alexanderplatz subway station read 16:12. Following signs that directed passengers to each of the six subway lines that converged here, we finally found the correct platform. People rushed every which way. No VoPos in sight.

  Behind my back, I surreptitiously emptied the lighter fluid into a rubbish bin next to the tracks. Just as our northbound train arrived at the station, I lit a cigarette, immediately threw it and the match into the trash can. Flames erupted. As our train departed, smoke filled the platform.

  When our train stopped at the next station, I heard an alarm and saw VoPos leaving our train to board the train which returned to Alexanderplatz.

  Perkins exclaimed in English, “Sir, that may have done the trick!” He paled, realizing his mistake.

  Glancing around, I determined that no one was watching us.

  As our train approached the Bernauerstrasse Station, I stood. Perkins followed. Seeing no VoPos, we exited the train.

  Rubbery legs carried me the four blocks to the alley, through the back garden, and up the stairs. As we entered the apartment, I collapsed to the floor. The Chief turned me over, put something under my head, and then placed handcuffs on Perkins’ wrists.

  “William, it’ll go easier for you if you follow instructions. Once the Captain, who risked his life to save you, recovers, we’ll leave here. Forget what you’ve just seen. There is a car waiting for us downstairs.”

  My panic episode subsided as Scott reentered the apartment.

  Vigorously shaking my hand, he said, “I’ve searched half of East Berlin looking for you. Why didn’t you stay on that train? I was in the next car and saw you leave. By the time I returned to Alexanderplatz, you’d just vanished into thin air.”

  I described our entire adventure.

  “Colonel Morgan is fit to be tied. Kurt and Mark have had a hell of a time convincing him not to issue a formal complaint to the Russians over your disappearance.”

  “Is that all? What about Thomas?”

  “And Thomas was apparently livid when Kurt informed him that you were in East Berlin. Kurt indicated that he thought that Thomas was going to explode—he turned red and rushed around the room like a caged animal.”

  “Going East was probably a mistake. I’m sure this will be my last spy mission. James Bond can have the adrenalin rush. Never again,” I vowed.

  “And Anna is worried sick—your families were supposed to spend today together.”

  “Hell, I figured we’d be back before noon.”

  “You’re in trouble with everyone but me, Kemosabe,” Scott said. “I figured you were a goner! Dieter Holburg would love to get you into an interrogation cell at Stasi Headquarters. Those guys are masters at getting information by using unique means that include mental and physical torture.”

  As soon as I could, I telephoned Anna at our apartment. “You abandoned our wedding bed in the middle of the night, and you’ve allowed me to worry about your whereabouts. Now you’re asking me to forgive you! Well, that’s not good enough!”

  “Anna, please. Colonel Morgan assigned me to a high-priority mission. I’d have called if I had been able to. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, so I can get ready for the symphony concert and dinner this evening with our families.”

  “Your family was surprised, then disappointed, and toward the end of today were expressing concern for your safety,” she said. “I may have to accept your lame excuses, but you can expl
ain to them what you’ve been up to. I’ll get everything you need out so you can dress quickly. That way, we can at the very least pick everyone up on time.”

  Four days later, Anna and I accompanied my visiting relatives to their gate and said our tearful goodbyes.

  Grandpa George reminded us, “I’m planning for you to start taking over the business in nine months. Don’t let me down.”

  I smiled, “Don’t worry, Anna and I are committed. Nothing will keep us away.”

  Little did I realize the challenges ahead of us before we could fulfill that commitment.

  Chapter 85

  Tuesday, July 11, 1961

  The interrogation of Technical Sergeant William Perkins took three days. Scott came to my office with the results. “Perkins is a switch hitter.”

  In response to my questioning look, he continued, “He likes boys and girls in equal measure. He accepted this assignment because he still had friends from the time when he was stationed here. The Stasi apparently penetrated a hedonist club, which sponsored all-night orgies at a bathhouse here in West Berlin.”

  “What did he tell them?”

  “A supposedly married couple accepted him into their open relationship. When off duty, he lived in their elegant apartment. They claimed to be staunch anticommunists, so he bragged that the construction project he was working on would overcome the Russian and East German numerical superiority and save Berlin. He says for months he resisted their efforts to get him to reveal more details.”

  “Do you believe him?” I asked.

  “We’ll know for sure if someone snoops around the building, but I believe he’s sufficiently frightened to tell us the truth,” Scott replied.

  “Perkins is the traitor we were looking for a long time. We sent three good workers home but failed to identify the real culprit. Now we got the right guy.”

  I later heard that Sergeant Perkins received a dishonorable discharge, two years in the brig, and was fined a large amount of money, along with an admonition that he would be severely punished if he ever revealed details about the tunnel to anyone.