The Berlin Tunnel

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by Roger L Liles


  I remained silent. Dieter shouted, “Respond immediately!”

  I heard my disembodied voice reply, “Yes…help Olivia Katz. Now I know…Paris for lunch.”

  Dieter gripped my shoulders and shook me hard. “Pay attention! This is Warner Eisenman. He is your new handler, but you will normally only make contact through a dead drop. This is a drawing of the place where you will leave the exposed film or documents you collect. He will leave instructions, including a rendezvous point should a face-to-face meeting become necessary.”

  He grabbed my hair and forced me to look at the drawing, “This is the Soviet War Memorial in the Tiergarten. Do you know where it is?

  “Yes…in the park…near the middle.” I like the park—it’s nice. A pleasant place with Robbie...dear Robbie.

  “Each of the two fountains at the rear of the memorial is surrounded by a high hedge and has a single bench. A large tube is fastened to the underside of the bench on the east side. Place your deposit in the container and close the lid. Using chalk leave your initials—AMK—on the leftmost column of the memorial. The letters are your initials—AMK. Understood?”

  “Yes…AMK…My initials.”

  “Mr. Elsenman will erase your chalk marks when he picks up your drops. He will write his initials, WJE when he has something for you. Is that clear?”

  When I didn’t respond immediately, Dieter slapped my face, “Do you understand your instructions?”

  I pressed my hand to my cheek, barely able to focus, “Yes…I understand.”

  As they stood at the door, Dieter taunted, me, “Remember your family is available if you do not follow orders.

  I nodded. “Yes…I’ll spy on Robbie.”

  As they exited the apartment, I heard, “She is so terrified now, she will cooperate from now on.”

  “The other replied, “I’m sure you’re right—she was almost incoherent with fright.”

  After the door closed, I tried to move, but collapsed into a heap on the floor. I avoided being sprayed with the hose. I was helpful. That was good. Wasn’t it? I hated lying in the filth of that cell, but how could I get out?

  Chapter 127

  Robert

  Wednesday, October 18, 1961

  The moment I entered the living room of our apartment, I knew something terrible had happened. A coffee table was overturned. A sofa cushion and several throw pillows were scattered across the floor.

  “Anna, are you here?” I shouted.

  Silence. Moving through the bedroom quickly, I found Anna huddled in a ball on the floor of the bathroom. Almost comatose, she slipped in and out of consciousness.

  “Robbie, you’ve saved me…I’m so happy.” Then, she faded away.

  I crouched down beside her.

  She scuttled away from me, shivering and screaming, “No! Not that! Not again!”

  After I picked her up, she settled down and became almost lethargic. Despite clinging to me, she remained conscious. I called Scott, and he arrived within thirty minutes. We rushed Anna to the Army hospital in his car.

  The Chief Psychiatrist at the hospital, Colonel Allan Ward, determined that she was suffering from Gross Stress Reaction. He recommended she spend several days in the hospital for further evaluation.

  On the third day, I received a summons from Colonel Ward. Anna had sufficiently recovered her memory and wanted to tell me what had happened. I went to her room. Obviously sedated, she was still able to tell me of her latest encounter with Dieter Holburg.

  When she finished, I tried to maintain a calm façade. Despite my rage I assured her, “Don’t worry, Kurt, Scott, and I will place something of value in the dead drop every week.”

  Frequent therapy sessions with Doctor Ward helped her begin to deal with her anxieties. She agreed to visit him three times a week until they both felt she could manage on her own.

  With the assistance of my superiors and Doctor Ward, we moved into a two-bedroom house in Clay Compound. It resembled a little American city within the confines of West Berlin. Access to the base and housing area was controlled. Anna felt safer, and I reassured her, “Dieter Holburg can’t find you here.”

  Chapter 128

  Monday, October 23, 1961

  Scott, Kurt, and I gathered for a meeting of the Escape Committee. Kurt asked, “How is Anna getting along?”

  “She’s still in the hospital. She may be released on Wednesday. She is so fragile, we must get her family out ASAP,” I explained. “This tunnel needs to be finished quickly.”

  “I understand what you’re saying. Mia’s letters are sounding more desperate all the time,” Scott said, looking distressed.

  “Beginning this Friday, we’ll have to feed a dead drop with valid information until we can get Anna’s family out.”

  Kurt offered, “One of my agents is a tall brunette who resembles Anna. With a blonde wig, she could pass for Anna from a distance.”

  “So, she can service the dead drop with information we generate.”

  “Exactly. I’ll not tell Thomas about this latest development. He’ll just get involved and screw up everything. I’ve some ideas about what to give them. I’ll take responsibility for generating the material and getting it into that canister.”

  “Thanks, Kurt, you’re a true friend.” I shook his hand.

  Scott asked, “Did anyone make it to the escape tunnel this weekend?”

  “I went over on Saturday,” I replied. “They won’t be finished until the middle of next week. They’ve had to dig around a huge water main. Then I helped them get back on the correct track.”

  “Did you hear about all the excitement last night at Checkpoint Charlie?” Kurt asked.

  “No, what happened?” Scott replied.

  “Well, as you know, for the past 16 years, American official vehicles and cars with green USA license plates have passed through all Berlin checkpoints without their occupants showing identity documents. Last night, one of our senior civilians and his wife were refused entry by East German Border Guards.”

  “A confrontation was bound to happen,” I said. “If we recognize the authority of the East Germans to demand documentation to enter Russian-controlled territory, we are tacitly recognizing the division of Germany.”

  “Exactly. That can only be accomplished via an international peace treaty,” Scott agreed.

  “What happened next?”

  “As we were all instructed to do, he demanded that a Russian official be called to authorize his entry. When no Russian appeared, he drove into East Berlin. A block up the street, armed VoPos barred his way and threatened to shoot if he didn’t stop.”

  “And?”

  “Almost two hours later, eight armed MPs marched into East Berlin and escorted his car back to the checkpoint. His wife exited the car, and he turned it around. With the MPs walking beside his vehicle, he drove several blocks into East Berlin. To reinforce our rights, for the next several hours, a whole fleet of staff and civilian cars with allied civilian and military personnel in and out of uniform crossed the border and traversed the area where the East German government is located.”

  I smiled. “Interesting!”

  “This morning, the East German News Agency announced that all persons in civilian clothes who enter East Germany, will be required to show their identity papers. This isn’t the end of the showdown between the East and West.”

  Chapter 129

  Wednesday, October 25, 1961

  Two days later, Colonel Morgan’s staff received an order to assemble in his conference room. He announced, “Yesterday, strong letters protesting the unauthorized denial of access to East Berlin were sent to the Soviet military leaders here and to the Russian government in Moscow.”

  Looking each member of his staff in the eye, he continued, “At 0925 this morning, a civilian official was again refused entry into East Berlin. The American officer in charge at the scene told his East German counterpart, ‘If this access is denied, then force will be used.’”

  Th
e Senior NCO in charge of the Communications Center entered the room and handed a message to Colonel Morgan.

  “Gentlemen, a full-blown military confrontation is anticipated within the hour. We have been ordered to full alert. Arms will be issued to each man, including side arms for officers. Change into fatigues, and then report back here.”

  As I changed into the combat gear I’d been issued when I arrived in Berlin, but had never worn, one thought ran through my mind: In less than two months Anna and I would be out of this perilous place. But as long as her family was trapped in the East, we could never really leave Berlin! We must get them out.

  Once everyone returned to the conference room, Colonel Morgan said, “Thirty-five minutes ago, ten of our M-48 tanks arrived in the vicinity of Checkpoint Charlie and kept their engines running! The two lead tanks are equipped with the bulldozer blades required to remove the new East German barriers. Numerous jeeps with armed troops joined them. Soon, our forces will begin to escort official vehicles over the border!”

  “Sir, have our intercepts revealed anything about enemy intentions?” I asked.

  “The Army Security Agency reports that a Soviet tank company consisting of twelve tanks is on its way to the site.”

  Colonel Powell stood, “On the blackboard is a list of your assignments. Stay within this complex until released to your personal quarters. Any questions?”

  “Sir, what about my guys who are working in the building?” I asked.

  The Colonel asked in return, “What do you recommend?”

  “I want to alert the swing shift to make their way to the building ASAP. We’ll load additional arms into our delivery vans. Many of my guys are combat vets—WWII or Korea. If the flag goes up, we’ll protect the building and the people working in it.”

  “Good idea, make it happen,” Colonel Powell ordered.

  Chapter 130

  Wednesday, October 25, 1961

  In an all-hands meeting, I told my men everything I knew. “Chief, organize our people into fighting units and distribute the arms. Rotate the men between guard duty and work at their regular work assignments. Eight hours on, eight hours off until further notice.”

  After returning to Tempelhof, I arranged for box lunches to be made at the enlisted men’s mess. Then I found cots and blankets for each man.

  I telephoned Anna, who was off work and at our new home recovering from her recent trauma. “Darling, I must remain at work. The East Germans have created an incident along the border, but hopefully there’s nothing for us to worry about.”

  “Will you be home this evening?”

  “Don’t know for sure, but I’ll try. I promise.”

  We talked for several more minutes. “Remember that I love you and your safety is of paramount importance to me. I’ll call every chance I get, and I’ll be home as soon as possible.” I heard her crying, but I needed to return to my men, so I said, “The Clay Compound is the safest place in Berlin for you until this is over. I love you.” “Love you, too,” she managed.

  Once back at the building, the Chief approached me. “Sir, several of the men have voiced concerns. We are armed men out of uniform. Either side may decide we are the enemy, or even worse, spies. I’d like to allow several men at a time to go in the delivery vans back to Tempelhof. They’ll get their uniforms and eat a hot meal at the mess hall.”

  “Good plan, Chief.”

  Back at Tempelhof, I slipped into Colonel Morgan’s conference room. He stood at the lectern, “Over the last three hours, our armed troops have escorted several American civilian vehicles on short tours of East Berlin. A senior Russian officer has finally shown up, but he hasn’t actually opened the border to our vehicles. If either side fires a shot, this rapidly escalating crisis could result in full-scale war.”

  Turning to Mark, I said, “I hope all of those guys have cool heads. This is how wars start.”

  The colonel continued, “Ten Russian tanks are now located in a vacant lot just out of view of Checkpoint Charlie. This is the first time since WWII that Russian tanks have entered central Berlin. Intercepts from numerous locations indicate the entire Russian and East German Army and Air Forces in Germany are on the highest level of alert.”

  After providing additional details of recent events, Colonel Morgan said, “It’s almost 1830. Here are my orders. Those of you with dependent children, go home and assure your families that they shouldn’t be frightened. If the balloon goes up, they will be evacuated to West Germany. The evacuation plan calls for transport aircraft from Rhine-Main and Ramstein to bring armed reinforcements to Tempelhof and fly dependents back to West Germany. Your family is permitted one suitcase. Each family will be notified when to report for evacuation. Here is a list of evacuation pick-up points. Please ensure that your spouse knows where to go. Are there any questions about any of this?”

  After some discussion, the colonel excused the men with dependent children, instructing them to return to duty at 7 a.m.

  Mark paused and said quietly, “Anna can join my family. That way, she won’t be alone.”

  I whispered, “Thanks, Mark. I’ll let her know. You’re a loyal friend,” I appreciated his generosity. Although concerned for his own family, he took the time to think of Anna.

  The colonel issued further orders, “You bachelor and married officers without children here in Berlin are stuck with night duty for the duration. Rooms in the BOQ have been arranged for you.”

  He looked at Scott. “Captain Taylor, you are the senior man. I want two officers here on duty always. They’ll help the flight duty officer supervise the destruction of all classified material and equipment if fighting starts.”

  Once back in the building, I called an all-hands meeting. I shared everything I knew about the events occurring less than two miles away. In closing, I said, “Sometime during this crisis, some idiot may fire a shot which will set off World War III. The Russians and East Germans may even take Berlin, but the important thing is that each of us does his duty to protect and defend the United States so that we can hold our heads up with pride that we’ve done our collective best for each other and our country. Our primary job is to keep our little project here a secret. Knowledge of it could be used to justify their actions in the arena of world public opinion.”

  Chapter 131

  Thursday, October 26, 1961

  “The situation is starting to look truly dangerous,” Scott said during his morning briefing. “Overnight, the Russians moved more tanks into central Berlin; now a total of thirty-three are within 300 yards of Checkpoint Charlie. Ten of our M-48 heavy tanks and five armored personnel carriers are now parked on the street that leads to Checkpoint Charlie.”

  After the briefing, I returned to the building where Chief Weber told me, “Master Sergeant Loring went over to McNair Barracks and he requisitioned two 50-caliber machine guns and two super bazooka-antitank guns. We’ve identified defensive positions and we’re ready if they come. Everyone, including me, has had a hot meal. I’ve also encouraged everyone here to write their family back in the States to let them know they’re safe.”

  Back at Tempelhof, I mailed the letters, ate a hot lunch, and then decided to call Mark’s house. Doctor Ward had warned me that Anna’s reaction to stress could be anything from comatose withdrawal to hallucinations to shouting fits of rage. I wanted to reassure her I was well, and determine how she was managing the fear everyone was experiencing because of this crisis.

  Once Anna took the phone, she said, “Robbie, I’m glad you called. I’ve been so worried. Can you tell me anything more than what the news broadcasts have reported?”

  “No. Nothing other than the situation is looking perilous. Are you feeling all right?”

  “Being here with Mary and her children help me to stay grounded in reality. I miss you so.”

  “Stay with them until I come for you. If they order an evacuation, you will accompany Mary by bus to Tempelhof, and then you’ll be flown to Rhein-Main. You’ll be able to join yo
ur uncle and grandfather in Darmstadt.”

  “Robbie, is an evacuation likely?”

  “No one knows.” I said honestly. “I hope not.”

  We talked for several more minutes, “Hopefully, this crisis will be over soon. I must run. Scott just called me to a meeting. I love you.”

  “Hurry to me when you can. I love you, too!”

  I turned to Scott and asked, “Anything new?”

  “Come with me, and we’ll see it first-hand. We’re going to enforce our rights to enter East Berlin again at 1500 this afternoon.”

  We drove to Checkpoint Charlie.

  “Scott, it seems as if the West Berliners are going about their lives as if nothing is happening.”

  “What’d you expect them to do?”

  I shrugged in response. “I don’t know…be concerned for their own safety if fighting starts.”

  Scott parked the car. We emerged on foot from a side street, just as three American tanks leveled their guns directly on the East German guards. “The guy driving that car is a G.I. in civilian clothes. He’s going to enter East Berlin without showing his identity card.”

  A car threaded its way through the maze of barriers at the East German checkpoint. When asked for his identification, the driver shook his head and waved hands back and forth in obvious refusal. The metal pole blocking entry remained closed.

  After a few minutes, an Army full colonel in uniform walked across the border, past the VoPos, and climbed into the car, which was then driven into East Berlin.

  When it returned a few minutes later, the colonel got out, talked to an East German officer and then signaled. Three jeep-loads of soldiers with bulletproof vests and rifles with bayonets fixed escorted the colonel and this same vehicle back into East Berlin.

  Over the next few minutes, numerous US and British vehicles entered and exited the border. The frustration of the East German VoPos was apparent as one balled his hands and held them rigidly to his sides; another moved his hat back on his head and scowled. A third held his hands out as if to say, “How could you be allowed to do this to us?”

 

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