The Berlin Tunnel

by Roger L Liles

  On the way back to Tempelhof, I told Scott, “Our forces are doing everything necessary to reinforce on the Russians and East Germans that, as an occupying power, we are within our rights to enter East Berlin at will without showing identification.”

  According to press releases I read the next day, the American colonel told the East German Officer, “The United States will never recognize your authority to stop or request identity papers. East Germany does not exist!”

  That evening, Colonel Morgan allowed married officers without children to spend twelve hours at home. I called Anna at Mark’s house to let her know. I found her in the kitchen when I got home, making one of her delicious meals. We went to bed early and made love like we’d never see each other again.

  Chapter 132

  Friday, October 27, 1961

  I gave my men an update at an all-hands meeting. “President Kennedy is telling the Russians and the world that West Berlin is in the vital interest of the United States. The four-power agreement on Berlin remains in effect. If they try to take West Berlin by force, it will mean war.”

  To my surprise, Jeff Robinson, Chief of the CIA intercept station, found me and requested that I join him in his space.

  Once there, he informed me, “We appreciate that you and your men are willing to protect us. However, I have ominous news as a result of a recently translated message. Khrushchev has ordered the Commander of all Russian Forces in Germany to answer all American provocations in kind!”

  “What do you think that means?”

  “They don’t intend to back down as a result of our efforts to enforce the status quo!”

  “This could quickly escalate into an all-out war. We’re outnumbered ten to one and over a hundred miles behind enemy lines. I really don’t like our odds,” I said. “Do I need to inform my superiors?”

  “They already know. We sent a Critical Warning message to the entire intelligence community. I’m sure President Kennedy and his national security staff are discussing it as we speak.”

  Fifteen minutes later, the KY-7 scrambler phone in my office at the building rang. Scott said. “You missed the meeting Colonel Morgan just had with the rest of us.”

  “What was said?”

  “This crisis just deepened. Another American civilian and staff car expedition into East Berlin started at 1000 hours. When the Commies refused to admit those vehicles, ten of our tanks rolled into firing position in the street leading to their checkpoint. The Russians answered with ten tanks of their own. The cannons on the two formations of tanks are positioned to fire on one another from very close range.”

  “So, this is the ultimate confrontation—High Noon at Checkpoint Charlie! Thanks for telling me. I’ll cease all construction work and place my men on two-hour shifts in the defensive positions we’ve established.”

  All of the radios in the building tuned into General Lucius Clay’s 1230 speech on the Armed Forces Network. “The fact that Soviet tanks appeared on the scene proves that the harassments taking place on the Friedrichstrasse were not those of the self-styled East German government but ordered by its Soviet masters. The right of all four powers to move freely throughout Berlin will be maintained at all cost.”

  Lieutenant Lee, Commander of the Air Force intercept facility told me, “All American forces worldwide have been placed on a higher alert level.”

  At a little after 1900, I took the plumbing truck back to Tempelhof for my hot meal of the day and to see if Scott had any additional information. He greeted me by saying, “Well, old buddy, just think about those poor guys out there on this cold, drizzly night.”

  “I’m sure the guys on both sides are hoping no one screws up and starts shooting,” I replied.

  “One interesting development is the lack of reaction from the communist side. Radio Free Berlin (RFB), RIAS, and AFN Berlin are all providing full details of what’s going on, while the East German propaganda machine is silent about the whole confrontation.”

  “They would usually be spouting anti-American and anti-imperialist rhetoric. Accusing us of being fascists intent on subverting the legitimate regime of Germany,” I said.

  “That’s right. But nothing! Not one word about the crisis,” Scott shook his head. “They know their propaganda isn’t believed by most of their own people. East Germans listen to Radio Free Berlin when they want to hear the truth. Perhaps the Soviets have confronted us to save face. If that’s true, then this crisis may be solved soon.”

  “You read Khrushchev’s message. I see a different course for this crisis. WW Three. I hope you’re right, because my vision of the immediate future is a personal and international disaster!”

  Chapter 133

  Saturday, October 28, 1961

  A night in a real bed with Anna felt like a luxury when compared to a cot for one. After rising with an aching back, I went to Tempelhof, showered and shaved. In the morning staff meeting, we learned that the confrontation was continuing, as both sides replaced their forces with fresh troops.

  A photograph of the previous day’s tank confrontation at Checkpoint Charlie covered the entire front page of The Stars and Stripes newspaper.

  That same photograph adorned the front page of virtually every newspaper across the globe. The world held its collective breath, hoping the Berlin Crisis would not lead to World War III.

  As I prepared my weekly report, an NCO came to get me. “Sir, you need to report to the conference room, the Colonel wants all officers and Senior NCOs to attend.”

  “Good news or bad?”

  “Don’t know, sir,”

  A short time later, the Colonel stood and addressed those in the room. “Gentlemen, I have what I hope is good news. Three hours ago, the CIA people in our building intercepted a message. In it, Khrushchev accuses Ulbricht of intentionally fomenting a crisis in Berlin to force Russia into confronting the Allies. In retaliation, Khrushchev won’t sign a unilateral peace treaty with East Germany this year, and he is withdrawing his forces from their current positions.”

  The nine officers and seven NCOs in the room grinned and shook hands.

  The colonel cleared his throat, regaining our attention. “About an hour and a half ago, the Russians moved their tanks. Thirty minutes later we did the same. Our helicopters have determined that the Russian tanks are now deployed on side streets. We are still on alert, and will remain so. Go about your duties.”

  “Sir, some of us would like to go home this evening. Is that possible?” I asked.

  “Yes. Several of the officers who have been home with their families the last three nights will have duty tonight. This includes me. We old guys should still be able to pull an all-nighter, right, Colonel Powell?”

  That got a laugh as Mark smiled. “It’ll be rough, but we’ll manage somehow.”

  As I left, I shifted my focus to how to get Anna’s relatives out of the East. I’d almost forgotten the tunnel into the graveyard. It must nearly be finished, I thought.

  After we made love, Anna snuggled against me. “We’ll be leaving Berlin in less than two months. As long as I’m here, I feel close to my family.”

  “Once you get your American passport, we can come for an extended visit without having to worry about the Stasi arresting you. That might take a year or more, but we’ll return often after that.”

  “I can hardly wait for our first visit.”

  Chapter 134

  November 2, 1961

  During the next week, the last of the troops from both sides of Checkpoint Charlie returned to their bases. The Berlin Crisis was like a major snowstorm. It came out of nowhere, profoundly impacted our lives for a few days, and just as quickly subsided.

  The Berlin Crisis proved to be just another attempt on the part of the Russians and East Germans to probe for a soft spot they could exploit. When President Kennedy called their bluff, they folded. Gradually, American forces in Berlin returned to their regular alert status, which always remained one level higher than that of the rest of the Am
erican military worldwide.

  “Our recent excitement has set us back almost a week,” I said to the Chief and Sergeant Loring in my tank office. “Do you think the men will agree to work more extended hours and perhaps most weekends, if it means they can go home before Christmas and not return?”

  “Sir, I’m sure that they will.”

  “Let’s look at the list. The appliances and cabinets for the mess hall should be installed this week. The Army intercept spaces will be completed next week. The command and recreation centers are scheduled to be finished in two weeks.”

  “Sir, those last two activities may be delayed because the lighting, furniture, and other fixtures haven’t arrived in Berlin. Their delivery was delayed by recent events.”

  “When will we get them?”

  “Next week, unless the East Germans decide again to disrupt rail traffic into Berlin.”

  I nodded. “Here’s what we’ll do. Let’s start remodeling the apartments and shift our primary effort into the building of the barracks.”

  “Good idea, sir. All of the material required to complete those tasks are in the parking garage.”

  “I want to get out of here as much as you guys do. My early out has been approved. I can leave as soon as we’re done.”

  Chapter 135

  Saturday-Sunday, November 4-5, 1961

  After over a month of planning, Kurt, Scott, and I were ready to assist sixteen people to escape to the West. Sophia’s husband, Derrik, had been released from prison early and would join his family in their escape to the West.

  Construction of Gunther’s tunnel had been completed on Friday afternoon, when he pushed one of the limestone slabs that covered the floor of the crypt up and out of the way.

  As a part of the planning, we completed a map of the area and viewed the scene several times from as many angles as possible. The barrier between the two Berlins had separated a church from its cemetery. Kurt arranged with the rector for us to use the church steeple positioned adjacent to the fence. This vantage point gave us a clear view of the cemetery and surrounding area.

  At a little after midnight, the three of us ascended the ladder to the belfry. Through openings in the stone structure, we saw two pairs of armed VoPos with dogs. They patrolled the well-lit, no man’s land between the two fences. Lights atop tall poles along the fences illuminated the area. The gravestones and crypts beyond formed long shadows, which would allow the escapees to approach the vault without exposing themselves.

  “Fortunately, the wind’s blowing toward us, which means that the dogs between the fences shouldn’t be able to detect our escapees,” I whispered.

  “Hope you’re right, because they’ll be only a hundred or so feet away from the fence when each group reaches the crypt,” Kurt said.

  “My task will be to keep an eye on the VoPos below us at the fence,” Scott said. “I’ll wave and point if either group becomes interested in anything in the cemetery.”

  Kurt had managed to acquire six sets of the two-way communication devices the East Germans had developed for the Stasi. When he told us about this successful acquisition, he bragged, “We’ll use their technical capability against them by keeping each of our groups apprised of what’s happening and to direct their actions, if necessary.”

  I mounted my thirty-power binoculars on a tripod and focused on the area around the crypt. I could see most of the cemetery and part of an adjacent street.

  “The workers’ girlfriends should arrive soon,” Scott said after glancing at his watch.

  Two of the diggers agreed to work on the tunnel in return for having their girlfriends, who were trapped in the East, come through first.

  “There they are,” I whispered as I watched two female figures dart between gravestones and then crawl the last few feet before disappearing near the crypt.

  Looking down at the luminous dial of my watch, I determined that Bernard, Emma, and Fredrich should arrive in twenty minutes. This arduous and gut-wrenching task could well be completed in a little over an hour. Breathe deeply. Good air in….bad out.

  Fifteen minutes.

  Ten minutes.

  Five minutes.

  Two minutes.

  Suddenly, I thought I detected movement on the street. Repositioning the focal point of the binoculars, I saw silhouettes pass through the illumination of a street light.

  Anna’s family is too smart to expose themselves like that, I thought.

  One of the silhouettes stopped. I saw the submachine gun in his hand.

  I stood and motioned my companions away from the opening. “Kurt, use your gadget to tell everyone to go home. The bad guys have arrived in force.”

  “Are you sure?” Scott asked quietly.

  “Certain. Whoever is on the street is armed.”

  “Crap.”

  Kurt was crouching down so that his voice wouldn’t carry out to the VoPos below. In German, he whispered, “Abbrechen! Sofort abbrechen!” (Abort immediately!)

  Rushing back to the thirty-power binoculars on the tripod, I watched submachine gun armed men in uniform and civilians carrying pistols swarm into the cemetery. Gunshot fire erupted in the vicinity of the crypt. Soon, men surrounded it.

  The three of us looked at each other, defeated by the reality that we’d tried again and failed.

  I sighed, whispering, “I’m glad that I didn’t get Anna’s hopes up by telling her about tonight.”

  The others nodded their agreement, knowing that their loved ones on both sides of the border remained vulnerable.

  The next day, Kurt, Scott, and I met Gunther at his apartment. He was distraught—the man that was handing out flashlights and directing people into the tunnel was killed. He confessed, “I screwed up. A friend recommended one of the workers, who had a girlfriend trapped in the East and was desperate to get her out.”

  “You accepted him into your group?”

  “He worked harder than any of us. Turns out he crossed over the border to visit his girlfriend in the East two months ago. He was arrested, and only released after he agreed to try to stop people in the West from building tunnels. They held his girlfriend in custody to assure his cooperation.”

  “Let me guess the rest,” I said. “His girlfriend was one of the two they allowed through as his reward.”

  “Exactly,” Kurt replied.

  Once the three of us were back in my tank, I hurled a glass ashtray across the room so hard, it shattered a wood in/out basket. Then I shouted, “We’ve lost over a month and all of Scott’s money. And we’re no closer than the day we started.”

  “Don’t worry about the money,” Scott said. “We are all feeling angry and desperate. In our communications, Mia sounds more distraught each day. I can afford to purchase Swiss passports for everyone.”

  “That’s over $800,000. Anna, her family, and I could never repay you.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I can easily afford it!”

  “How?”

  “My family’s wealthy.”

  “I’ve enough savings to afford my share,” Kurt said.

  “The Fischer family’s share is still over half a million dollars,” I protested.

  “Don’t worry about it, Robert. I’m only in the Air Force because I like it. Anna’s family’s is so exceptional, just knowing I was able to help them to freedom will be my reward.”

  I stared at him speechless.

  Hugging Scott like a brother, I said, “We’ll all be eternally grateful for your generosity. I accept on their behalf. Thank you.”

  “Kurt, as soon as you’ve completed the agreement with the Swiss diplomat, I’ll have a letter of credit for the full amount sent to a Swiss bank,” Scott said. “Pay me back at your leisure.”

  Kurt’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Thank you.”

  The challenge we faced as we tried to rescue our loved ones had fostered a profound sense of brotherhood among the three of us.

  Chapter 136

  Friday, November 10, 1961

&nb
sp; “I’ve got a foolproof way of getting everyone out of East Berlin,” Kurt said after joining Scott and me in my office at Tempelhof. “As I told you on Wednesday, the man in the Swiss embassy selling passports was recalled to Bern after the East Germans and Russians complained about his activities.”

  “Tell us about your new alternative!” I urged.

  “One of the senior officials at the Austrian Embassy decided to get rich. He’s selling authentic Austrian passports, and we could be his first customers. Our people can travel freely within East Germany using their own travel papers. So, sixteen people divided into four groups will travel to Dresden on the same train. Using the Austrian passports, they will take another train through Prague to Bratislava.”

  “And Bratislava is right on the Danube River, very near Vienna,” I smiled feeling hopeful. “The Czechoslovakian border guards are slack, and their chief in Bratislava is on the CIA’s payroll,” Kurt said. “Plus, to make certain nothing goes wrong, I’ll travel with them playing the part of my paramour’s husband.”

  “How soon can we pull this off?” Scott asked.

  “It’ll take about a week to get the passports back after we pay the Austrian Embassy guy here and give him the photos. The passports are generated in Vienna.”

  “How much?” I asked.

  “Eighty thousand West Marks—$20,000 for each passport.”

  “Let’s make it happen, my friends,” Scott said as we shook hands and discussed the details of money transfers and potential travel dates.

  Thus, our next escape plan was finalized.

  Chapter 137

  Wednesday, November 15, 1961

  After several hours of paperwork, my brain felt fried. I looked around at the tan walls and gray furniture of my office in the tank aware that this space would soon be occupied by someone else. Anna and I will be flying back to the States in five weeks, staying first with my parents for a few days, spending Christmas in Rutherford, and then flying to Hawaii for a week in the sun. My almost six-year stint in the Air Force would be over.