Sunday, August 13, 1961
At 1335, Colonel Morgan called us all into his conference room. “Gentlemen, I may have good news. General Norstad, the SACEUR, has received the assurance of General Ivan Jakubowski, the Supreme Commander of all Soviet Troops in East Germany, that local authorities are only restricting the movement of people who live in East Germany. New travel regulations will be promulgated on Monday. To implement these restrictions, the East Germans will be closing most of the crossing points between the two Berlins.”
Kurt, who had just arrived, stood and said. “I can confirm what the Colonel has announced. The information the CIA received from a very reliable source indicates that East German leaders, with Russian approval, are in the process of permanently sealing the border to those living in East Germany and East Berlin. It is their way of preventing young, educated East Germans from fleeing to the West. It’s as simple as that.”
“Is this only the start?” I asked, thinking that the signing of a separate peace treaty with East Germany might force a confrontation and possibly cause World War III.
“The answer to that question depends on how rapidly we can complete the Signals Exploitation Center,” Colonel Morgan answered, pointing his index finger at me. “You committed to having the first part of it operational in four weeks, using your currently available work crew!”
“We can finish our part. The problem is tapping into the tube, installing the patch panels, and running all of those signal lines back to the Exploitation Center,” I replied. “Those tasks aren’t our responsibility.”
“I’ll begin working on that with my counterpart from NSA first thing tomorrow morning. You need to make certain we’re not part of the problem.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re all dismissed for the day. See you in the morning.”
Mark stood and smiled. “At least there won’t be a shooting war here in Berlin anytime soon.”
Scott approached. “Being stationed here in Berlin allows us to witness history in the making. Something to tell our grandchildren.”
“I’m willing to join you in seeing the closing of the wall close up, but first I must make sure Anna safely made her way across the border. She may want to go with us.” I called our apartment. When I received no answer, I turned to my two friends. “She is not there; I need to find her!”
Mark grabbed my arm. “Give us a minute to change, and we’ll help you search for her.”
Chapter 100
Sunday, August 13, 1961
After racing up five flights of stairs, I burst into our apartment. Seeing Anna, I gathered her into my arms. “Oh thank God, you’re safely home! Did you have any difficulty getting over the border?”
“No, not really, but now my whole family is stuck in the East!”
“I’ve been told this isn’t the first time the East Germans have restricted travel between the two Berlins.”
She nodded. “That’s true. But this is the first time they’ve made such extensive changes to the facilities along the border and closed subway stations. This feels…permanent,” she said.
“You’re probably right. I would like to see what’s happening. Will you go with me?”
“I don’t know. The knot beneath my heart only disappeared when I got back here—inside this apartment. I’ve already seen what’s happening on the other side; it’s not pleasant.”
“Aren’t you the least bit curious about what they are doing?”
“Yes, but is it safe to be near the border?”
“It should be. Give me time to change into civilian clothes, and we’ll have a look see.”
“So, you Americans have decided to do nothing,” she snapped, her tone accusatory.
“What choice do our leaders have? War? Armed confrontation? The truth is, our leaders are trying to decide what to do. Mark and Scott are waiting for us downstairs.”
An hour later, we approached the Brandenburg Gate. Scott shouted to be heard. “It’s so crowded, this could turn into a flashpoint for rioting. Best we move south toward the Potsdamer Platz.”
“Why are the West Berlin police keeping everyone back from this point?” Anna asked.
“They know the communists could easily use ‘restoring order’ as an excuse to invade West Berlin. That may even be their prime objective,” I said, as I helped her push through the crowd.
Looking back at the Brandenburg Gate Plaza, I saw that concertina wire stretched all the way across that broad opening. Behind that barrier, a new chain-link and barbed-wire fence was being built. And through the pillars of the Brandenburg Gate, I saw armed troops holding a large crowd of East Germans at bay.
The mostly young male mob on this side shouted insults at the East German troops and construction crews. Pig head, dog, swine, dummy, traitor, stooge, and idiot were common insults. I also heard vile epithets about the East German workers’ and soldiers’ lineage or sexual preferences.
“The West Berlin police are arresting young men who are carrying cobblestones!” Mark said, in a voice filled with concern. “Let’s get out of here.”
We followed his lead through the crowd.
“Notice that the VoPos are standing behind the construction crew to impress on them that trying to escape would be fatal,” he said.
“Let’s hurry,” Anna urged, tugging on my arm.
After walking south through the Tiergarten for some time, we viewed the scene on both sides of the Potsdamer Platz checkpoint as people passed through to the West.
“The line of people waiting to cross over has gotten much longer since I was here earlier this afternoon,” Anna said.
“Notice all of the people on both sides of the border waving to friends and relatives.” Mark shook his head in disgust.
With tears in her eyes, Anna murmured, “Please notice the faces of my countrymen! Families, friends, and lovers know that a long period of separation is in their future. You can see it in their desperate, tear-stained faces and furtive waves.”
I hugged her as she wept.
“All of my family except you is now trapped in the East. If I didn’t have you…” Her voice trailed off.
To comfort her, I led her away from our friends and the crowd. We sat on a bench in Tiergarten Park, and watched the sun set in the west, intentionally not looking at the human tragedy unfolding behind us.
“I swear to you, I’ll do everything in my power to get your family to the West. Somehow, someway, you’ll be reunited with them,” I promised, unsure how I would ever accomplish such a daunting task.
Chapter 101
Monday, August 14, 1961
Early the next morning, Thomas Lane demanded a meeting with the senior officers of my unit. We assembled in my tank. He adopted his usual superior tone. “In my hand, I have a communique from the Director of the CIA to the Secretary of Defense, Mr. McNamara, urging him to dissolve the triumvirate and transfer the entire tunnel building program to the CIA.”
“What was his justification for this demand?” Mark asked.
“Captain Kerr’s slipshod management of the construction of the tunnel and exploitation center. If he had used his resources expeditiously, we’d have had advance notice of this travesty!”
Standing, Mark snapping, “You and the other members of the management triumvirate insisted on a 1 October deadline for completion of the first phase of construction. The construction is now almost complete, due to Captain Kerr’s diligent management. We’re going to be operational several weeks before the 1 October deadline!”
“He should have started earlier and driven his men harder.”
“You and the triumvirate received full approval and funding almost nine months before his arrival. If anyone wasted time, it was you! General Harrison told me that a significant amount of that delay involved a CIA attempt to take over the program! And that it was you who masterminded that attempt!” Mark barked.
“NSA and the military have sixteen intercept sites that do nothing but monitor Russian and Warsaw Pact communi
cations, yet they failed to discover East German intentions…I…”
“—Your CIA organization here in Berlin also failed. You have over 200 agents and full-time employees, plus several thousand operatives, who detected none of the preparations for this closure of the border! You’re right under their noses and can freely move through East Berlin!” he shouted.
Both men stood toe to toe. Their raised voices and flushed faces made me think this confrontation might turn into fisticuffs.
“The truth is, the entire Western Intelligence establishment—CIA, British MI-6, and the French Deuxieme Bureau utterly failed to detect any unusual activity from behind the Iron Curtain,” Mark continued loudly. “You’re speculating that if Robert had….”
Colonel Morgan stood and approached the two men, “Mr. Lane, you are a guest in this DoD facility. Let me make this clear to you…everyone in this room takes his orders from General Harrison, and not one of us has any intention of following any orders you give us. Now, please leave before I have a security detail do the job for me.”
Thomas turned and stalked to the door where he paused to glare in my direction, as if to say this matter was far from settled.
Scott, Kurt, and I remained in the tank. Kurt said, “Bernauerstrasse is still open. The East Germans have been working so hard to guard and seal the eighty-one checkpoints, they’ve failed to seal the doors and windows in that almost two-kilometer long street of apartment houses that abut each other and are the border…”
“—That means we have a chance to save people trapped in the East!” I said, thinking about my promise to Anna.
“I’ve got five people I’m desperate to save. Mia is pregnant with my child,” Scott revealed. “I’m sure she’ll also want her parents, sister, and her sister’s husband to come west, as well.”
“Anna cried almost all night. She won’t be happy until her family is here,” I added.
“Even I have a group I want to save from life under those bastards!” Kurt admitted.
Scott and I looked at Kurt in amazement.
“I have a daughter. I must save her. Her mother is the love of my life, and her grandmother lives with them. I have three people to bring West. Are both of you free now?”
We both nodded.
“Give us a few minutes to get out of our uniforms, and we’ll join you on an excursion to Bernauerstrasse,” Scott said.
The Fischer house looked deserted. I rang the bell for the surgery. Receiving no response, I rang the front doorbell several times. Sophia’s thirteen-year-old son, Stephen, cautiously opened the front door. He smiled broadly as I hurried inside.
“Uncle Robert, it’s you!” he exclaimed.
“Is anyone else here?”
“No. I’m alone.”
I looked at the clock above the fireplace. 1:17 p.m. Not much time.
“When will they return?” I asked.
“Everyone is at work or in school. Grandpa told me he had rounds at the hospital, then house calls and would be home late. Grandma usually is the first one home at about 4 p.m.”
On the way here, I had seen a few VoPos and decided to get Anna’s family near the exit point on Bernauerstrasse and then take them in small groups over the border. What now?
“Does anyone work close by?”
“Not really.”
“There is a way over the border. Put some clothes in your rucksack and come with me.”
When Stephen returned, he said, “There was room for my Elvis album you gave me. I’m ready.
I’ll get him across the border and then come back, I decided.
The familiar street that ended in a wall had been deserted earlier, but now was crowded with trucks, VoPos, and people. A couple carrying suitcases walked toward us. Stephen asked them, “What’s happening?”
The man answered, “The VoPos will not let anyone through who cannot prove that they live on Bernauerstrasse!”
The alley we needed to reach was on the next block. The damn VoPos stood between us and it. What now?
As we drew closer, I saw a construction crew hauling concrete blocks and bricks into apartment houses on both sides of the street. Apparently, they intended to seal the doors and windows. I needed to get us to safety.
Leading Stephen back to a side street, I whispered, “We must find a way through.”
We began to walk toward Scott’s apartment house on an adjacent street. When the three of us had exited the building earlier as a group, we’d hidden a key under a pot in the back garden. As we approached it and safety, two VoPos spotted us. They walked toward us.
Seeing them, I muttered, “Turn around and ignore them. We cannot allow them to question us.”
“Halten Sie!” one of the VoPos shouted behind us as we sprinted around the corner and out of their sight.
Stephen dashed through an open garden gate we’d just passed. I followed and secured the latch. I joined him into a nearby shed, as he secured its simple wooden latch behind us. We could hear the two VoPos shouting questions at each other as they searched for us.
A loud thud indicated they’d forced open the garden gate. “Scheisse—Sie müssen hier sein!” (Shit, they must be here!)
An old tenant of the apartment house stuck her head out of the kitchen window and yelled, “Why are you breaking my gate?”
“Did you see two people. A man and a boy. They refused to obey our order to stop.”
“I have been standing here for some time. They climbed over the fence into the next garden. Be gone with you.”
The VoPo’s moved toward our hiding place when someone shouted at them, “You blockheads! You’ve left your guard station. Return to that area immediately. Two people just scrambled over the wall you were supposed to be guarding.”
After waiting in silence for several minutes, I motioned for Stephen to follow me. The old woman waved to us as we cautiously exited the broken gate. I silently mouthed thank you in German. I led us north, away from the area. In the middle of the next block, a man held the door of an apartment house open. He signaled us and whispered, “Straight through here and both gardens. You’ll end up in the West.”
Sensing a potential trap, but having little choice, we followed a cue of people out one apartment house and into another.
Some of those carried suitcases. Most had nothing but the clothes on their backs. All wanted to live free.
We walked down a long hall, passed a row of mailboxes, through an open door and a step down onto a broad sidewalk and street.
“We made it! Bernauerstrasse!” I shouted, recognizing it by the trolley tracks that run down its middle. Elated, I hugged Stephen.
As we walked to the nearest subway, we passed the familiar entrance to number 124, Scott’s apartment building. The door was now sealed. A window on the second floor opened and sheets tied together flopped down. Stepping out of the way, we saw suitcases and items tied into bundles fly out of the window. We helped by grasping the end of the sheets as a family of five shimmied to freedom.
Scott suddenly appeared in that same second-floor window. I held the bottom of the sheets again as Scott and a young couple I didn’t know descended onto the street.
“This is Mia’s sister, Lina, and her husband, Manfred,” Scott told us. “My usual luck. On Friday, Mia and her parents left for a short holiday on a nearby lake.”
The helmeted head of a VoPo poked out the window. Everyone scattered as he pointed his machine gun at us. He slowly pulled the sheets back into the apartment and closed the window.
“Kurt has an official passport, but his daughter, girlfriend, her mother…”
“—Perhaps we should stay nearby in case he needs us,” Scott suggested.
“I’m thinking of going back over,” I admitted hesitating.
“—Don’t. The situation is getting too dangerous.”
Scott and I took turns standing on the street outside, keeping an eye out for Kurt while the three new arrivals in the West ate lunch at a gasthaus across from number 124.
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When the fire brigade arrived, I rushed into the pub. “West Berlin firefighters have shown up with safety nets. People are jumping from windows and the roofs of buildings.”
Almost everyone, including Scott and Stephen, left behind uneaten meals and half consumed beers, intent on seeing this spectacle.
Gazing up at people gathered on the roofs of the three-story and four-story tall buildings, I spotted Kurt atop a nearby apartment house. Pointing him out to Scott, I said, “We need to get the firefighters to help him!”
Just then a VoPo came up behind Kurt. Although we couldn’t see exactly what was happening, the VoPo suddenly tumbled off the roof, landed in a heap nearby, and didn’t move.
After a group of firefighters with a safety net rescued everyone from the next building, I rushed to them. “Our friend needs your help,” I said, pointing to Kurt’s location.
They immediately responded. An older woman resisted Kurt’s efforts to get her to jump. He picked her up, held her out over the abyss like a doll, and released her.
“Must be his girlfriend’s mother,” I shouted to Scott over the din of the crowd.
The firemen helped her out of the safety net. She limped and held her arm as we rushed to her aid. Kurt jumped just as two shots rang out. He landed in the net, his head covered in blood.
Chapter 102
Monday, August 14, 1961
The wound to Kurt’s head proved to be superficial. With the help of an undershirt from Stephen’s backpack, we stopped the bleeding. After much discussion and a significant payment, I persuaded a taxi driver to take us to a local hospital. Several hours passed before Kurt and his girlfriend’s mother received proper treatment and could leave the hospital.
When we arrived back at our apartment house, I had Stephen wait while I checked the listening devices in the basement. When the Stasi removed the tape recorders several months ago, Kurt had informed me, “Replenishing those tapes on a daily basis and then transcribing them takes so much time and effort that even the Stasi have difficulty maintaining that type of surveillance for extended periods.”
The Berlin Tunnel Page 26