In my last post, I recalled my family’s experience during the fall of The Wall. It has now been more than twenty years since that infamous piece of masonry was dismantled. I still have some pieces of it in shoeboxes in my garage. I also have some reinforcement rods and a metal band that held the pipe in place as it sat atop the wall. More on that later.
It was quite a party that they held in Berlin on Monday past. Angela Merkel, the current chancellor who actually grew up in East Germany, hosted the chiefs of state of the European Union countries, Mikhail Gorbachev, and Hillary Clinton who was representing US President Barack Obama. (a side note here: I just noticed that my spell checker in Word Press recognizes the word “Obama”, but not “Barack”…is that weird or what?) But I digress. To chants of “Gorby! Gorby!” from the crowd, Frau Merkel, the daughter of a Protestant pastor (imagine how tough that must have been in communist East Germany!) thanked Mr. Gorbachev for instituting reforms in the Soviet Union which eventually led to the demise of the hated East German government and the fall of the wall. I believe that Hillary Clinton also spoke to the crowd, but I was in the other room writing my previous blog post, so I didn’t hear everything she said. I would hope, but I seriously doubt, that she mentioned Ronald Reagan saying, “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!” Had Reagan not been a Republican, no doubt she would have given him top billing in her speech. Perhaps she did mention him. I haven’t seen a transcript of her remarks. There are still areas where the wall remains as a reminder of the past. I hope that those monuments remain for a long time.
I visited the wall and absorbed the history of it. It used to give me chills to approach Checkpoint Charlie or what remains of it. In order to tell my story, a little historical background is required. At the end of World War II, Germany was divided. Everyone knows that, right? But it was not divided into two areas; it was divided into four! There was an American zone, a French zone, a British zone, and the Soviet zone. Those four countries made up the Allied Powers that defeated the Nazis and removed them from Europe. The three zones in the western area coalesced into the Federal Republic of Germany. The Soviet sector became the German Democratic Republic, or East Germany. Berlin was likewise divided into those four sectors, and the first three became West Berlin. The Soviet zone became East Berlin. The Allied Powers were granted access to Berlin via certain specified corridors. You might recall from history, or maybe personal recollection if you are old enough, that the Soviets blocked access to Berlin in 1948. That led to the famous Berlin Airlift, which provided rations to the beleaguered citizens of West Berlin. Thankfully, Harry Truman did not dither or dawdle about making a decision about what to do, and Berlin was saved. There are two monuments recognizing the service of those who provided relief to Berlin. They represent an air bridge from the West to the East. One half of the monument is near what is now the Frankfurt International Airport. The other half is at Tempelhof Airport in Berlin. Perhaps in a later post, I can comment about the “Candy Bomber” and how I got to see Col. Gail Halvorsen up close and personal about two years ago. It was a treat!
In 1989, I was assigned to the headquarters of the Bremerhaven District of the Department of Defense Dependents Schools. As you might imagine, the office was in Bremerhaven, way up north close to the North Sea. Our district had more than 20 schools, and it included the two schools in Berlin. I had to travel to Berlin on a somewhat regular basis. For those of us assigned to Allied Forces, there were only three ways to get to Berlin. You could fly; you could take the duty train; you could drive along “the corridor”. That was it. Although I usually flew to Berlin, on occasion I would drive. That was exciting, and I’ll relate my experience below.
To go to Berlin, one had to have special “orders”. If you were going on official business, you had to have two sets of orders. One was your normal “temporary duty” orders (called “TDY” orders); the other was the really important one. These orders were called “flag orders“, and were so named because your country’s flag was prominently displayed at the top of the order. These orders would get you through the maze of checkpoints that you had to pass through in order to get to your destination.
By the way, when I was assigned to Bremerhaven, we lived in the British sector. That was fun, because the Brits would frequently visit our base to shop, and we would visit their bases to do the same thing. You wouldn’t believe how popular Weber grills were with the British soldiers. We liked to buy jams and cookies (although they were called “biscuits” by the Brits). The French also had their version of a PX. They were called “economats” and Americans liked to buy scarves and perfumes. The Brits called their exchanges “NAAFIs”. The only authorized entry point into East Germany was in the British sector near a city called Helmstedt. Almsost everyone has heard of Checkpoint Charlie, but did you know that there was also a Checkpoint Alpha and a Checkpoint Bravo? Yep. ‘There was. Checkpoint Alpha was at Helmstedt, and it was a required stop for anyone wishing to transit “the corridor” which was actually known as Autobahn 2 in West Berlin. I can’t recall the East German designation for the same road, but the difference in road surface was remarkable.
Here in Europe, as in America, we are used to setting our clocks and watches back one hour as we travel westward and cross a time zone boundary. In this case, we were traveling eastward, but we didn’t set our watches forward; we had to set them back about 50 years! OMG! The contrast was almost palpable. The first interruption on your trip was at the Allied Checkpoint Alpha. You had to go inside and go to your country’s desk which was manned by military police. In a silent commentary on the times, the US and British MPs were sitting next to one another and chatting each other up during the infrequent slow periods. The French were down at the far end, all by themselves. After checking in with the MPs, you were given a “briefing book”, which was a binder about an inch thick full of pictures of the various landmarks that you would see on your journey and specific instructions on where to turn, etc. There were also instructions on your speed, where you could stop and where you couldn’t stop, and to whom you could speak. These were critical! Our authorization to transit to Berlin was ONLY on that one highway. If you left that road, you could be presumed to be a spy, and that would not be conducive to good health. The speed was important as well. East Germany had established a speed limit on the corridor. Those of us in West Germany were used to the Autobahn rarely having a speed limit. If I recall correctly, it was 102 miles from Alpha to Bravo, and you could not make the trip in less than 90 minutes. If you were longer than a certain number of hours (5?), they would send someone from the other end to look for you. These were tense times, and nobody wanted a member of Allied Forces to become an international incident. In addition, we were only allowed to talk with other members of Allied Forces or to Soviet officers. We could not converse with East Germans and especially not with their police or military forces. While we could pull off the road to rest at certain “pull over areas”, we could not stop at the large plazas with fuel stations, restaurants and rest rooms. Yep, you’d better pee before you go, because your only option along the way was behind a tree. In the back of your briefing booklet, there were two banners that you could, if needed, hold up to your window. One was for your fellow Allies. It said that your car was broken down and please send a tow truck from the opposite end. (You were required to stop for all Allies who were in distress.) The other banner was to hold up and show to the VoPos (Volkspolizei or “people’s police”) or to the East German military. If you were stopped by them or if you were in distress and they stopped to inquire what was wrong, you were not permitted to speak to them. We were even told not to roll down our window. Instead, we were to hold up this banner which said, “I demand my rights under the Four Party Agreement to speak with a Soviet officer.” They would call a Soviet officer, and I’m glad that I never had to find out just how long that would take.
On your first visit to Checkpoint Alpha, the driver of the vehicle had to watch a video of what to expect and what the procedures would be. And, yes, there were lots of procedures to follow! Because not everyone was on official business, there was a lounge for those accompanying the driver along with a play area for the children. After completing the video and after gathering your briefing book and all of your belongings and after that very important last visit to the latrine, you were on your way….for about 100 yards. You would get into your car, called a POV in military parlance (privately owned vehicle), and drive along this narrow one-lane path until you came to a barrier. That barrier was always in the down position every time I visited. Depending on the mood of Mr. Gorbachev that day, or the mood of the local commander, it might stay down for quite a while. Eventually, the young Soviet sentinel would do his duty and raise the barrier so you could drive through until the next barrier. The rear barrier would then be lowered and you were stuck until they decided to let you go. It seemed like it was always a 19-year old, pimply-faced Russian soldier in an ill-fitting uniform that would approach the car and salute me. I was required (even though I was a civilian) to return the salute. He would take my flag orders and go inside his little guard shack for a while. Eventually, he would return, having placed various rubber stamps and stickers on my flag orders. He would then point to a nearby building and indicate that I was to go inside. Before I did, however, we had to exchange salutes once more. Upon entering the Soviet Checkpoint Alpha (or whatever they called it), we would go to what appeared to be a bank teller’s window covered by one-way glass. We would surrender our flag orders and (gasp!) our passport, hoping that we’d see them once again. The room was filled with propaganda materials from the USSR. I can’t recall, but there may have been live microphones in that room as well. We’d just stand around and commiserate with one another until our name was called. You can imagine how those names would be mangled by the eastern Europeans trying to pronounce our decidedly non-Russian surnames. Our papers would slide back out of the little slot along with a departing word that sounded a whole lot like “buzz off”. Of course, we couldn’t see the person behind the glass. It was just a disembodied voice. Finally! Well, almost. We returned to our cars and again saluted the sentry. He would raise the barrier (when he was good and ready) and we were good to go along the corridor. For me, the trips were uneventful. Only once did I see another Allied vehicle in any kind of distress, and they were being “helped” by a Soviet soldier. I reported this at the other end, as required.
When you finished the trip along the corridor, you came first to the Soviet Checkpoint Bravo. The procedures were reversed at that end. However, and it was almost comical, you could count on the Soviet guard to motion you to come forward just a little bit more. That way, he was out of view of his superiors in the guard shack. He would then offer to trade uniform items or other memorabilia with you. The first guy wanted my wrist watch. I said no, but we finally decided on a ball point pen for some some Soviet sports medal. All of this was verboten, of course, but I venture that almost everyone took part. Hell, I’m convinced that if I had had enough money, I could have gotten an entire Russian uniform complete with weapon. That would have been just a bit over the line, however.
After exiting the Soviet Checkpoint Bravo, one would drive to the Allied Checkpoint Bravo, where things always went fast. You would turn in your briefing book and report if anything out of the ordinary had happened during your trip. There was also a blessed restroom in the checkpoint building. After that, you were free to travel throughout all of West Berlin and to East Berlin with the proper paperwork. Perhaps I’ll report on my stays in Berlin in a subsequent post.
Until then, tschüss, from a unified Germany.
Retired-Ed
November 11th, 2009 at 4:30 pm
This was fascinating! Thanks!
November 12th, 2009 at 5:26 am
WOW! I learned so much from this post. Thank you….
November 13th, 2009 at 2:11 pm
[...] It was quite a party that they held in Berlin on Monday past. Angela Merkel, the current chancellor who actually grew up in East Germany, hosted the chiefs of state of the European Union countries, Mikhail Gorbachev, and Hillary Clinton who was representing US President Barack Obama. (a side note here: I just noticed that my spell checker in Word Press recognizes the word “Obama”, but not “Barack”…is that weird or what?) But I digress. To chants of “Gorby! Gorby!” from the crowd, Frau Merkel, the daughter of a Protestant pastor (imagine how tough that must have been in communist East Germany!) thanked Mr. Gorbachev for instituting reforms in the Soviet Union which eventually led to the demise of the hated East German government and the fall of the wall. I believe that Hillary Clinton also spoke to the crowd, but I was in the other room writing my previous blog post, so I didn’t hear everything she said. I would hope, but I seriously doubt, that she mentioned Ronald Reagan saying, “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!” Had Reagan not been a Republican, no doubt she would have given him top billing in her speech. Perhaps she did mention him. I haven’t seen a transcript of her remarks. There are still areas where the wall remains as a reminder of the past. I hope that those monuments remain for a long time. You find the original post here retired-ed.com/?p=73 … | Retired-Ed [...]
January 8th, 2010 at 10:00 pm
A trip down memory lane! Oh, I miss those fun times–riding the duty train all night, shopping all day in the East, being watched by cameras perched atop buildings in Alexanderplatz, exchanging Deutsch Marks into GDP funny money at a 1 to 10 ratio. Such fun! I enjoy your entries, Ed!