The Berlin Tunnel

by Roger L Liles

  I tried to relax, but I felt a sudden compulsion to leave the scene. I exited the vehicle, deciding to walk west toward the Brandenburg Gate Checkpoint and West Berlin.

  Just then, Stasi agent Holburg snapped in heavily accented English, “Captain Taylor, if you continue to show a complete disregard for the sovereignty of the DDR, we will take firm action against you. I will personally make you suffer. Now go away and stay away!” He pointed west with his crippled hand.

  On the way back to the West, Scott told me, “I’ve had several run-ins with Herr Holburg. He’s one of their best agents, and he’s relentless once he decides someone’s trying to do something that could be detrimental to East Germany.”

  Once we reached the West, Scott grinned and shouted, “Man alive, that was more fun than riding a bucking bronco, partner! It’ll give those pukes in East Germany something to think about.”

  “Aren’t we going to get in trouble for our little joy ride? Those guys took photos of us.”

  Scott shook his head. “Our access to Berlin is guaranteed by the Four Powers Treaty signed by the victors in 1945. No World War II peace treaty will be possible until the Cold War ends. The Russians want East Germany to be recognized as an independent country and we’ll never allow that, so it’s a stalemate. Until something changes, we’ve got Herr Holburg and his kind by the short hairs. His superiors will know little or nothing about our altercation today, because he failed to intimidate us into complying with his requests.”

  “I hope you’re correct,” I said, still feeling uneasy. “Why does Holburg know you?”

  “I’ve had several run-ins with him. When the men who work upstairs in Tempelhof get into trouble in the East, I have to extract them.”

  “Why do the men who work upstairs even want to go to East Berlin? Isn’t it dangerous for them?”

  “Everything is much less expensive over there. Preventing red-blooded American men from exercising their God-given right to free pussy and cheap beer is an impossible task. Even on an E-3’s meager salary, our lowest ranking troops can live like kings in the East with an apartment and a girlfriend, who may be a Stasi agent or informant. She rents an apartment for them and they play house. My job is impossible.”

  “In a way, you can’t blame them. What you’ve described would be tempting for any young man.”

  “I only really get involved when they get in trouble in the East.”

  “So, we just broke a rule you’re supposed to enforce!”

  “Because of my job, I have a special dispensation, which I extended to you today.”

  Chapter 10

  Saturday, October 15, 1960

  Over lunch, we talked about the two Berlins.

  “After the war, the destruction from bombing and shelling was virtually the same in most parts of the city,” Scott said. “Rebuilding is nearly complete in West Berlin. Few vacant lots exist and there are even fewer damaged buildings.”

  “The newspapers often have articles on the ‘West German economic miracle,’ but to see it first hand is incredible,” I replied. “Everyone seems to live in new and modern apartments, and many have automobiles.”

  “Today on our tour of the East, we only traversed the showplace areas the communist leaders want the world to see. Elsewhere, in East Berlin, a good part of the destruction still remains.”

  “Really!”

  “Yes. The Russians claimed most German industrial and manufacturing facilities as reparations for the destruction Germany wrought on them during the war. Virtually every factory in Berlin was put on boxcars and moved to Russia. They took everything from lathes and bricks to toilets and telephones. As a result, virtually all of southeast Berlin in the Russian Zone is still a gigantic ruin.”

  Moving closer, I glanced around to assure no one could hear me as I whispered, “Isn’t that where the terminus of our tunnel will be?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me more,” I encouraged.

  “Once you get beyond the area we saw today, twisted iron protruding from broken walls and piles of rubble are familiar sights. The new structures, especially the ugly square workers’ tenements, look drab, the apartments are tiny, and amenities are few. The pre-war buildings are a uniform shabby gray with slap-dab repairs, boarded-up windows, and peeling paint.”

  “During the short time we were in the East, I didn’t see many cars,” I observed.

  “Private ownership of a car, even a Trabant, is rare over there. Senior Communist Party members and military elite have Russian-made, chauffeur-driven limousines. Everyone else takes public transportation—trolleys, buses, the subway, and interurban.”

  After lunch, we drove through the British and French sectors to their military bases. Scott gave me quick tours and described the recreational, entertainment, and dining facilities available to us. We kept running into barbed-wire barriers or walls which completely closed off streets going in random directions.

  At one point, I observed, “One could get island fever living here—always running into barriers.”

  Scott turned onto a broad street with trolley tracks running down its middle. “This is Bernauerstrasse. Perhaps the strangest part of the crazy quilt that is the barrier which divides the two Berlins. We are driving on a street that’s in the West, but the almost continuous line of buildings on the right side of the road are in the East. East Berliners exit their apartment houses—once on the sidewalk, they’re in the West.”

  “Interesting.”

  “I have used this anomaly to extricate several of our errant youths from the East, without anyone knowing we were over there. That’s a secret I’d prefer you not share with others. Okay, old buddy?”

  “Sure.” It would be several months before I learned what that comment really meant.

  Our tour ended with a few beers at the Tempelhof Officers Club game room. It consisted of a semi-circular bar, a bank of slot machines, several tables large enough for poker games, a pool table, and several smaller tables with three or four club chairs around them. We wanted to talk, so we took one of the smaller tables in a quiet alcove and began by exchanging our life histories.

  “I’ve been in the service for almost four years now,” I told him. “Specialty training, then eighteen months at March Air Force Base as a subcontracts administrator. Then another eighteen months at the University of California Berkeley getting my master’s degree.”

  “So, you’re one of the lucky few who got the Air Force to pay for their education.”

  “It’s a good deal. I got paid while going to school, and only owe them one month of additional service for every month in school. I have only a year and a half to serve, then I’m getting out. I can’t wait to start working in my chosen profession as a civilian.”

  Scott said, “When I joined the Air Force, I was just taking care of my military obligation. I didn’t want to be drafted into the Army and serve as an enlisted man. Now that I’ve been in for over six years, I may make it my career. I like my job, especially being stationed in Berlin.”

  “I can tell you’re in your element here.”

  “Love it here. I’ve been contemplating marrying Mia. She was born in the East, so if we do marry, I’ll probably lose my clearance and current job. Then I’d be forced to resign my commission, return to Texas, and do God only knows what!”

  “Do they enforce the ban on a close relationship with a foreign national?” I asked, thinking of Anna.

  “You can date them. You can sleep with them. You just can’t marry them.”

  “Can you live together unmarried or get married and not tell them?”

  “That’s kind of a gray area. So far, it seems like you can live with a foreign female if you’re discrete. Our bosses operate on the concept of plausible deniability—what they don’t know won’t hurt you.”

  “That’s an interesting distinction. Why?”

  “They know they can’t turn us into a bunch of celibate monks—so we’re allowed to bend the rules, but only so far.”
>
  “That makes sense. Has there ever been an exception to the marriage rule?”

  “Exceptions have been made, but not for a German spouse born and raised in the East,” Scott replied. “Too much potential she might be a sleeper agent or an informant for the Stasi or even the KGB. Plus, if her family is still over there, they can exert pressure on her to work for them or on you through her. Hey, you’re thinking about Anna! Jeez, man, that’s fast. You may want to slow down a bit.”

  My silence revealed the accuracy of his guess.

  He looked around, then whispered, “My girlfriend lives with me, and I constantly worry that someone may make an issue of it.”

  Chapter 11

  Tuesday, October 18, 1960

  That morning, I was called into Colonel Morgan’s office.

  “You asked to see me, sir?”

  “Come in and have a seat. There’s something important we need to discuss. Has anyone told you that people with our clearance are forbidden to have close and continuing associations with foreign nationals?”

  Not wanting to lie, I nodded. “Captain Taylor mentioned something about it.”

  “Well…I’ve been informed you had a date with Anna Fischer from the bookstore on Friday. I’m sure you understand the reason for this restriction. I know and like Anna, but there can be no exceptions. Since she was born and grew up in the East, we can’t verify her true political leanings. Plus, if you continue to see her, you’ll be vulnerable to coercion from the East. Every member of my staff has the same security clearance as you, and all are subject to this restriction. It’s especially important you follow this restriction, because of the sensitive nature of your program. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  I answered, “Yes, sir,” though knowing I was too enamored with Anna to give her up just like that. Scott had indicated that as long as we were discrete, we could still see each other. So be it.

  “I’m glad you understand. If you need female companionship, there are hundreds of American nurses and school teachers here in Berlin. Find one of them to date.”

  Chapter 12

  Tuesday, October 18, 1960

  I locked all of the LUMAR information in the Mosler safe so my tank could be cleaned, the floors polished and everything dusted. After the crew finished, the two U.S. Government-issue, grey vinyl topped, metal conference tables were again positioned end to end and surrounded by eight tilt-backed grey metal chairs. The setting wasn’t elegant, but we had no choice. My tank was the only place in all of Europe where LUMAR information could be discussed.

  Once the cleaning crew left, Mark Powell and I started to work on the briefing for the General. During a break, he said, “Colonel Morgan asked me to reiterate that, because of the sensitivity of your assignment, it’s incumbent upon you to not establish a close relationship with any foreign nationals.”

  “Sir, I feel that I can confide in you. I really like Anna Fischer.”

  “You’ve only known her for a few days.”

  “I know—but we have something special already.”

  “Robert, let me be frank. Any relationship you establish with her could only create problems for you, Colonel Morgan and me. Before she was issued the badge, which allows her to work on the base, we did a preliminary background check on her. She was born in the East and lived there until she was eighteen. Our very cursory investigation revealed no association with communist organizations, but that doesn’t mean she’s not an enemy agent or an operative—one who supports the communist cause…”

  “—Sir, Anna hates the communists…”

  “—Every undercover agent freely spouts anti-communist rhetoric to ensure we don’t suspect them of double-dealing. Sleeper agents have functioned for years and were never suspected of being anything except the role they played…”

  “—But sir, I…”

  “—For a minute let’s assume that Anna and her entire family, who still live in the East, are what they appear to be—law-abiding citizens of an occupied city, who just happen to live on the wrong side of a line some foreigners drew on a map fifteen years ago….”

  “—People here in West Berlin know and respect Anna’s family. They must be wonderful people.”

  “That only makes the situation worse in some ways. Let’s say your regard for Miss Fischer deepens, and the Stasi or KGB become interested in our little project. All they have to do is threaten Anna’s family with arrest, torture or worse. Once you’re committed to her, you’ll be vulnerable to blackmail to free her family. These restrictions are designed to prevent this type of occurrence.”

  “But, sir…”

  “—Enough said. We need to get back to work on this briefing. What do you think about…”

  Chapter 13

  Wednesday, October 19, 1960

  Everyone in Berlin cleared for the LUMAR project—Colonel Morgan, Mark Powell, Scott Taylor, and I—greeted and shook hands with Major General Richard Harrison when he entered my tank. I was surprised that he was only five-foot-five or five-foot six-inches tall. The stars on his shoulders and his demeanor made him seem like a big man—actually he almost filled the room.

  The scent of Pine-Sol and fresh floor polish pervaded the area. A ballast in one overhead fluorescent fixture must have gone bad overnight, because two bulbs flickered and buzzed.

  As soon as the five of us were seated around my conference table, the General declared, “A year from now our new president, whoever that may be, will be faced with a monumental decision. He will either be forced to accept as an accomplished fact the incorporation of a reunited Berlin into East Germany, or he’ll start an armed confrontation which could easily lead to World War III!”

  I flinched. A somber mood permeated the room as Colonel Morgan said, “Please enlighten everyone as to the source of this information and the deadline.”

  “The annual meeting of the Warsaw Pact just adjourned. Russia and its satellites agreed to sign a separate World War II peace treaty with East Germany. This agreement will be negotiated over the next year, and it will be approved at their meeting next fall.”

  “Can they unilaterally abrogate the four-power agreements that were signed at the conclusion of World War II?” Colonel Morgan asked.

  “They are attempting to throw out all of the rules that have governed our collective conduct in Europe since the war,” General Harrison replied. “Perhaps equally ominous, details of new East German plans for the closure of all air, water, and ground routes into and out of Berlin have also been intercepted by our unit at Darmstadt.”

  None of us dared to interrupt this interchange between these two senior people. As the newest arrival and junior man present, I tried to remain calm. I thought: Holy shit—this sounds like I’ll soon be in the middle of a war! This has to be the reason for the deadline we’ve been given.

  “Sir, I think that we’d fight rather than….”

  “—because we’re outnumbered five to one in conventional forces, President Eisenhower has repeatedly stated that if the Russians attempt to overrun Western Europe, he’ll have no choice but to use nuclear weapons. The question in everyone’s mind is, will the next president go to war to save West Berlin?”

  “Grim, sir,” Mark exclaimed, his concern obvious.

  General Harrison said, “I’m here to kick off the construction of a tunnel I believe will help us avoid a new war. Our leaders need solid, reliable information to base decisions on. The Russians are so secretive, the only way we can get reliable information is by reading their mail.”

  “What’s so different now, General?” Scott boldly asked.

  “Warsaw Pact wireless communications are in the process of being switched to landlines. This tunnel…our tunnel…will allow us to tap into those landlines and read virtually all high-level military, commercial, and diplomatic communication between the Warsaw Pact nations and Russia. It’ll be a treasure trove of relevant information.”

  Colonel Morgan added, “Allowing the U.S. and her allies to anticipate
and counter Russian efforts to sign those peace treaties!”

  “Exactly.” General Harrison stood, pointing at Mark and me. He signaled us to the front of the conference room. Once we stood next to him, he announced, “These two men are going to build a tunnel, tap into the communist’s primary communications links, and help us avoid the next war.”

  The general took his seat at the head of the table as Mark gave the briefing I’d helped prepare. It described our preparations and provided a schedule for the construction of the tunnel. We told everyone present that the signals processing and reporting portion of Exploitation Center at the western end of the tunnel would be partially operational by September of next year.

  Although very nervous, I participated in the lengthy discussions and answered questions the General directed at me. Overall, I felt pleased with my contribution to the meeting.

  Feet of Tunnel Completed: 0 Days until Deadline: 347

  Chapter 14

  Thursday, October 20, 1960

  Although I went to bed early, I could not sleep. My responsibilities, with their real global stakes—World War III and the destruction of Europe—kept running through my mind.

  My first panic attack in five years occurred that night. I had finally fallen asleep but soon experienced a nightmare.

  First, Anna and I fled for our lives as mushroom clouds filled the sky. Then, Scott and I stood side-by-side in a trench. We had our .38 caliber pistols ready to fire as VoPos with AK-47s rushed toward Tempelhof. Anna hid in the nearby bookstore. I must protect her and somehow survive, I thought as I jerked awake.

  My pulse increased, and I began to gasp for breath. A full-blown panic attack. Dizzy and sweating, the tingling sensations in my extremities took over my entire conscious being.

  In the past, I’d always managed to control these attacks by lying down, relaxing, breathing deeply, and thinking pleasant thoughts. I forced myself to imagine that Anna and I were back dancing to the music. Happy, wondrous times.