Sektion 20

by Paul Dowswell

  Although he missed his work in the Foreign Section, he had settled into the Internal Service now. Sektion 20 was performing a valuable duty – weeding out the malcontents, trying to spot the escapers. There were still too many people trying to leave – some of them were even doctors, teachers, nurses, engineers. All of them trained and nurtured by their country, only to desert it when they were ready to do some good for their comrades. It wasn’t right.

  He even liked the cultural stuff, although a lot of his colleagues moaned about how tedious it was – keeping an eye on the ones who showed ‘negative tendencies’. But they were the ones most likely to escape. If you had some kid with long hair and hippy clothes and weird music, then it was a safe bet they weren’t going to be an A-Grade student of Marxist-Leninism and destined for a career in government. Catching them young would nip those incorrect tendencies in the bud.

  Alex rattled off his extra politics assignment as soon as he got home, then headed out into the winter evening to meet Sophie in the park. He was disconcerted to hear her parents had objected to her coming out with him. But they had relented when she told them who she was going to meet. Everyone knew Lili Weber.

  They drank beer and ate their Currywurst. Alex felt happy and a little light-headed, and the curry sauce had left a pleasant sting on his lips. Sophie rested her head on his shoulders. ‘It’s nice, isn’t it. Just the two of us. I’m glad we came early.’

  ‘Let’s go on the wheel,’ said Alex. ‘Catch the last of the sunset.’

  Soon they were beginning their jerky, stop-start journey to the top, as the wheel emptied and filled with passengers. As they ascended, Alex caught sight of the flashing lights of a Western airliner banking over the city as it made its approach to Tegel Airport. He thought how much he would like to be one of those passengers. He was about to say as much to Sophie but something stopped him. It seemed too frank an admission, even to say to her.

  The sun had gone now and in the ebbing light of the distant sky he could see the illuminated signs of the big capitalist companies over in West Berlin – Mercedes, Axel Springer Verlag . . . In school they had been taught to despise these symbols and told horror stories of how the capitalist companies exploited the workers. Alex wondered if they were really any worse than the East German industries.

  They met up with Geli, and a couple of her friends, soon after they finished their ride. She bought them two small beers and they stood around basking in the flashing lights and the booming music. Alex felt a little distracted. He had glimpsed a familiar face over the other side of the wheel and it made him feel uneasy. Was it that fellow who had been lurking around on the day Sophie had given him the Led Zeppelin record? He was about to mention it when Geli spotted Lili and shouted over to her. She was talking to another group of friends nearby, fellow students at the sports academy by the look of them, but she immediately came to join them.

  They could see at once she was in the same foul mood she’d been in when they saw her before. ‘She’s been training too hard,’ whispered Geli. ‘There’s too much pressure on her. Let’s be gentle with her.’ She looked like a box of fireworks, ready to go up.

  Geli felt especially protective towards her. Lili was one of the first kids in the school to befriend her and she wasn’t going to forget that. Lili had done her best to keep in touch when she had been transferred to the sports academy. They were all proud to have a friend who was a national champion.

  The others drifted off and Sophie, Alex and Geli went to sit with Lili on a bench at the edge of the fair. In a few months’ time she would be competing in the Olympics at Munich. Alex asked her how the training was going. Lili needed no prompting.

  ‘“You are ambassadors in tracksuits,” says the coach. I’m sick to death of having to be an ambassador. “In your actions, your victories, you will demonstrate to the world the superiority of the socialist system.” It’s hard enough trying to win a race without feeling that your performance will reflect on your entire country.’

  ‘But it’s been good for you, Lili,’ said Geli, trying to make her friend feel more positive. ‘Look at all the things you’ve got out of it. The best school, travel all over the Eastern Countries. You have such an exciting life.’ She put a reassuring hand on her friend’s shoulder. ‘And you are the best in Berlin – maybe the entire country.’

  Lili nodded and put her hand on Geli’s and patted it. ‘Thank you,’ she said. Then she looked at her watch. ‘Sheisse, I forgot to take my pill.’ She took out a small silver blister pack and popped out an orange pill, knocking it back with a swig of beer.

  ‘What’s this,’ said Geli with a giggle. ‘You on the pill? Who’s the boyfriend?’

  Lili bristled. Geli shrank.

  ‘They’re vitamin supplements,’ she said, trying to hide her irritation. ‘My coach started me on them last year. I take four a day.’ Then she looked sad. ‘Boyfriend? I should be so lucky. I seem to frighten boys away these days.’

  Alex was not surprised. Lili had always been a bit of a tomboy, even in kindergarten, but she had been a pretty girl. Now, well into her teens, she seemed to be getting more masculine – even the shape of her face seemed manly and she had the beginnings of a moustache on her top lip.

  A gang of boys and girls went past. The toughest-looking girl stared hard at Lili. ‘What’s your problem?’ Lili said, looking the girl in the eye. Alex shrank in his seat. There were six in this gang, and only four of them.

  The girl turned round and squared up to Lily, who stood up to face her. Geli put a hand on her arm. ‘Lili – they’re not worth a fight.’ Sophie and Alex sat there in terrified silence.

  ‘Dyke,’ muttered the girl and turned to walk away. Lili picked up an empty beer bottle, gave a scream and ran after them. The gang scattered, leaving Lili standing her ground and laughing.

  Two of the park police were coming over. ‘Hey, you,’ shouted one of them, above the blare of the fairground music. ‘Stay where you are.’

  Lily let the bottle fall to the ground and shatter. Now it was their turn to run. All four of them disappeared into the bushes. Ten minutes later, they were all trying to get their breath back on the other side of the park.

  ‘Lili, that could have turned nasty,’ said Geli gently. ‘What if she had hit you? You might have been hurt.’

  Lili was unrepentant. ‘I knew they didn’t have the guts for a fight,’ she said.

  ‘You frightened us half to death,’ said Sophie.

  ‘Na und?’ said Lili.

  They all parted with sullen goodbyes.

  Chapter 12

  Alex had to get to school especially early to hand in his précis to Herr Würfel and decided to go on his bike. When he unlocked the little storeroom the Ostermanns had in the basement of their apartment block, he was irritated to discover that both tyres were flat. He had to run all the way to school and arrived five minutes late. Würfel could see he was out of breath so he forgave him. He skimmed through Alex’s work, making lots of encouraging noises. ‘It’s good. I’ve always known you are one of the brightest pupils. Why can’t you perform like this in class?’

  Alex shrugged.

  Würfel said, ‘You have a lot of growing up to do, Alex Ostermann. Be quick about it before it’s too late.’

  Alex’s band reconvened in Treptower that evening. Anton and Heinz were OK with the idea of Black Dog for their name. They didn’t get the Led Zeppelin reference and Alex wasn’t going to let on he had the record either. It was too risky.

  It was odd sitting in the living room without Holger. Alex felt guilty about having ever wished his friend would leave his group. He missed him now. He had asked Sophie to come along and hear them, and maybe sing on some of the songs. She was a bit wary but she said she’d give it a go. She was quite fidgety and Alex could tell she didn’t really want to be there. He thought he’d try out his new song. He’d got some words for it now.

  ‘Here’s how it goes,’ he told the boys. ‘The chords are E minor, then G, the
n D then back to the E.’ He sang and played the chorus:

  We’re up against the Wall

  and heading for a fall

  But I’m still standing tall

  Up against the Wall.

  Alex felt pretty pleased with those words. Geli had helped him a bit and he had even managed to come up with rhymes in another language! He wished they did English at school instead of Russian.

  ‘Why do we have to sing in English?’ said Heinz, who didn’t understand what Alex was on about. ‘That’ll be another black mark against us.’

  ‘English is cool,’ said Anton. ‘All the good groups sing in English.’

  Heinz shook his head and muttered, ‘I’ll never get that snare drum . . .’

  Anton was behaving particularly badly that day. He had a cold and was snorting horribly instead of blowing his nose. In the breaks between songs he would take a slug from a bottle of cola and let out a long, malodorous burp. Alex had noticed he quite often behaved like this when Sophie was there. She had giggled and told Alex she thought he was quite shy around girls and maybe he thought it made him look tough. ‘After all, we girls can’t resist a lout. Especially one who’s a bit fat and sweaty.’

  Sophie hung about for a few more minutes, looking increasingly distracted. Then she glanced at her watch. ‘I have to tear myself away from your charming company,’ she announced, looking pointedly at Anton.

  His eyes followed her out of the room. When the door slammed, he said, ‘She’s a bit stuck-up, isn’t she?’

  Alex laughed. ‘She likes you too, Anton.’

  But Alex was pleased she had gone. Asking her along was a mistake. The others obviously felt awkward having her around listening to their stumbling efforts.

  Unterleutnant Kohl was finishing a report on two students at the Humboldt-Universität who had been taking an unhealthy interest in the East Berlin uprising of 1953, when Colonel Theissen appeared at his door. ‘Come and have a drink at the end of the day,’ he instructed.

  Kohl spent a restless few hours wondering if there was an ominous explanation for this meeting. Theissen was one of the few people in the world who frightened him. He had survived six years as a political prisoner in the infamous Nazi concentration camp at Dachau. When you spoke to him, his eyes bore right into you. They said he could sniff out secrets like a bloodhound. Kohl didn’t like the idea of drinking with his boss. He thought it was a ploy to loosen his tongue. Theissen was usually so stiff and formal with his staff.

  Kohl knocked on Theissen’s door at the end of his shift. The Colonel was already relaxing and beckoned him to the padded easy chairs around a low table. He took a long drag on his cigarette and poured himself another whisky – a particularly nice bottle that had been confiscated from a consignment of foodstuffs and spirits some West Berliners had sent over to a relative in the East. He poured Kohl a generous measure.

  ‘This is a challenging time for the Republik,’ he told Kohl carefully. ‘The Prague uprising has been a concern for the Politburo for the last four years. Comrade Minister Mielke tells me it has shaken them up more than they like to show. And the steps they’re taking to ensure it does not happen in East Germany are far-reaching. We must be particularly mindful of Western influences – especially in the cultural sphere. Western rock music is corrupting our youth as surely as the CIA and the Voice of America.’

  Kohl nodded. ‘Today’s youth walk a thin line – they flaunt their decadence. Even the children of the Party high-ups – they like to dress in the Western fashion. It’s not right. They should be setting an example.’

  Theissen nodded in agreement.

  ‘The ones who are really out of line are easy enough to spot,’ he said. ‘And here, you are doing a valuable duty for your country – as important as your former placement in the International Section.’

  He took out a press cutting recently confiscated on a record shop raid. ‘Have you seen this lot?’ He passed Kohl a photograph of Led Zeppelin. ‘What was it Stalin said about the duty of the artist? To be “engineers of the human soul”. I certainly wouldn’t want these perverts corrupting the souls of our young people.’

  ‘I feel unclean just looking at them,’ said Kohl. ‘Their parents must be the laughing stock of their district.’

  Chapter 13

  Sophie and Alex sat on a bench by Museum Island in the centre of Berlin, eating Bockwurst rolls. Alex’s transistor radio – tuned to the West German pop station WDR1 – was playing quietly in his pocket. Sophie carried one too, and when a song they liked came on, they would plug their little earpieces in so they could listen in secret, turn up the volume, and tap along to the rhythm on each other’s hands.

  They were enjoying their Saturday. After the usual morning session at school, they had taken Grandma Ostermann shopping. It was a task Frank and Gretchen were increasingly reluctant to do. Grandma always complained about the quality of goods in East Berlin. In the grocer’s that lunchtime she had announced that the food was better under the Nazis, even after the war started. And you didn’t have to queue for it – at least not until the end.

  The other shoppers tutted and Alex and Sophie had had to pretend they were shocked. ‘That told them,’ grinned Alex as they walked back to her apartment carrying her shopping.

  ‘Did you see the look on their faces?’ laughed Sophie.

  Grandma looked smug – like a naughty school girl with a secret. As they left she slipped them a couple of Marks to thank them for their help and pinched them both on the cheek.

  They were still laughing now, until Sophie decided it was time to break some bad news.

  ‘Mutter and Vater have told me I am to stop seeing you. It’s been very frosty at home recently – not that it was ever that different.’ She gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Mealtimes are the worst. Making conversation, it’s like wading through treacle.’ Her tone was matter of fact.

  Alex looked at her with alarm, wondering what she was going to say next.

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ve been quite the delinquent about it. We’ve had some terrible rows. I’ve told them I’ll leave home. Go and live with Auntie Rosemarie. Stop going to the Free German Youth meetings. So they relented. But they still want me to see less of you. Concentrate more on my schoolwork and cello lessons.’

  Alex wasn’t surprised. They froze him out on the rare occasions he visited her apartment now. He had started to call them ‘The Grims’. Sophie understood. Fortunately, Alex’s parents didn’t mind her coming round to their home. They liked her. And Frank thought she was a good person for Alex to know – what with her parents’ high standing in the Party.

  ‘So, to keep the peace, perhaps I should not come to your rehearsals,’ she said. ‘If they’re going to ration us, I’d rather see you on your own.’ She reached for his hand. ‘And maybe a bit less often?’

  Alex nodded. He was relieved. He thought she had been going to dump him.

  A couple of tiny sparrows arrived to pick up the crumbs from their lunch. Alex dropped a morsel of bread and one of them hopped beneath his feet to pick it up.

  ‘Wouldn’t it be great just to take to the sky and fly away,’ said Sophie. ‘They can have their breakfast in the West, lunch in the East and supper again in the West. Imagine that.’

  It seemed such a simple, reasonable thing to do. But Alex could no more hope for that than he could wish to be Sandman and take his dinner on the Moon. He was stuck here on Planet Stasi, overseen by the evil eye of the TV Tower.

  As they wandered through the streets on their way home they heard the rumble of the U-Bahn and felt a rustle of wind through a ventilation shaft, as a train from the West Berlin network rattled by beneath their feet. Stations on the lines that crossed from West to East were called Geisterbahnhöfe – ‘ghost stations’. They were blocked off and manned by gun-toting guards.

  ‘It’s funny, isn’t it,’ said Sophie as the train rumbled by. ‘Just a few metres down below there are people who are free to travel where they like and think and say whatev
er they want.’

  As they walked home, Sophie told Alex about her new job at the House of Ministries. The place had a sort of notoriety. It was in one of the Nazis’ most famous buildings – the head office of Herman Goering’s Luftwaffe. It had survived the war almost intact. These days it was a government administration centre. Sophie’s Auntie Rosemarie worked there as a cleaner.

  Alex was intrigued by her. Sophie had told him she was a bright woman but she had fallen foul of the regime in some way. It was considered impolite to even raise the subject. Sophie’s aunt didn’t like her job, but it paid the rent and kept her in bread rolls and schnapps. She had managed to get Sophie work there from time to time, when she wanted to make some extra money. Now they were asking Sophie if she wanted more regular work – Saturday afternoons mostly, but some evenings as well, if one of the women was ill.

  ‘I hate being there in the evening, when everyone else has gone home,’ she told Alex. ‘Down in the basement, where the soldiers’ barracks used to be, you can almost smell the sweat and the boot polish. When it’s quiet, I sometimes think I can hear shouts from the parade ground and marching feet. It’s haunted, that place. I’m sure of it.’

  She paused. Alex knew she was dying to tell him something. ‘What?’ he said, elbowing her in the ribs.

  ‘When you climb to the upper floors, you can see right over the Wall.’

  Most of the buildings next to the eastern side of the Wall had been knocked down, but not the House of Ministries.