I slowly calmed down. Deep, controlled breathing using my diaphragm worked. My pulse rate was finally almost normal. After several minutes, I climbed out of the bed and sat in the easy chair.
My first panic attack had occurred at the age of nine. It was late June 1944. The previous week, my mother had told me that my father’s unit was involved in the Normandy landings in France. I can still hear her words, “Robert you need to know that heavy German resistance has been reported with many American casualties.”
The next day I saw an officer in an Army uniform and our minister walking down our street. I sensed they were going to tell us that my father was dead. I ran into the back garden and entered a hiding place I’d made in the tall hedge. Almost immediately I felt overwhelmed, could not breathe, became dizzy, and then lost consciousness. A long while later, I entered our house, seeking comfort from my mother. No one was there. Eventually, I learned that she’d gone down the street to comfort a neighbor overcome by grief. Her son had been killed in the Pacific.
A psychologist my parents consulted when I was in high school told us there are no ‘known causes or sure cures’ for those who suffered from panic attacks. His recommendation was for me to learn to cope with them when they occurred.
I understood why the military had rules which excluded persons who suffered from panic attacks from serving. How can one lead men into battle, or even in the building of a tunnel, if he panics when confronted by a crisis? After a sleepless night, I decided not to tell anyone of my disability—I wanted to stay in Berlin, finish the tunnel, and be with Anna. This was my destiny; like my father I wanted to be a citizen soldier who served his country in time of need.
Chapter 15
Thursday, October 20, 1960
Scott arrived a little early for the meeting and rang the buzzer. I admitted him into the tank. Once seated, he observed, “That was some meeting we had yesterday. I’ve been in this man’s Air Force for six years, and I’ve never known a General officer to speak so frankly.”
“I feel like the weight of the world is on my shoulders.”
“Several of us are here to help you. Don’t worry.”
“I need all the help I can get.”
“You really are inexperienced, buddy. You probably thought General Harrison just happened to come to Berlin to kick off the building of the tunnel. His real purpose was to determine if you could build his tunnel. You’ll know soon if you passed the test.”
“I had no idea. Did Colonels Morgan and Powell know, too?”
“Yes. Don’t worry, compadre. You passed muster. If you do a good job for our bosses, they’ll support you in every way. Remember, your performance on this project will be a direct reflection of their leadership.”
“I hadn’t thought about it that way.”
“Believe me, this program has maximum visibility at the highest levels of our military and government.”
I glanced up as someone entered the right combination in the cipher lock. I heard it click. Mark escorted an individual, whom he introduced as Kurt Altschuler. A firm handshake and warm smile complemented his erect stature. He looked like a senior corporate executive in his expensive, hand-tailored, three-piece suit, black top coat over one arm, and homburg hat in his hand.
“Since the four of us are going to be working together for the next year or so as the tunnel building program security committee, it’s imperative we get to know each other,” Mark said. He and Scott then described their responsibilities at Tempelhof.
Next, we all looked at Kurt, who in the deep baritone voice of a well-educated European gentleman, and with only the trace of an accent, stated, “I’m one of the CIA’s Deputy Chiefs of Station here in Berlin. I was born and raised here, and consider it my home. My primary value to the program will be my ability to operate in both East and West Berlin. As problems occur, I’ll help you solve them.”
I introduced myself, told them of my educational qualifications and recent experience, and then bluntly said, “I need all of the help I can get. This whole task is, quite frankly, overwhelming.”
Mark started us off by saying, “This morning, we’ll discuss the security threat. This afternoon, we’ll take a tour of what we should all refer to as ‘the building.’ ”
Kurt took the lead. “Every activity associated with the tunnel will be of interest to the tens of thousands of spies from both sides who move freely around Berlin. The Soviet Committee for State Security, the KGB, and Soviet Military Intelligence, the GRU, have large cadres of agents here in Berlin. The East Germans have combined agencies into one organization called the Ministry for State Security, commonly known as the Stasi.”
“So, what you are telling me is that thousands of people are going to watch our every move?” I clarified.
“You’re not alone,” Scott replied. “You’ve got Kurt, me, and our rather sizeable organizations to help worry about security for you. I…”
“—Scott, I think you’ll agree that keeping the existence of the tunnel from the West Germans, French, and British will add a whole new layer of complexity to the problem,” Mark interjected. “The West German Intelligence Service alone has thousands of undercover agents operating within Berlin and its environs…”
“—You’re right,” Kurt confidently interjected. “Keeping our allies from finding out about the tunnel makes hiding its existence much more difficult—but not impossible—the French and Germans will usually back off when we warn them to not be too inquisitive about our intelligence gathering activities. But it’s not a matter of if the British find out about it, it’s a matter of when—and they’ll be pissed, as they were our partners in the last tunnel.”
“There’s a reason we aren’t telling the British,” Mark said. “Too many times, the information we provide them has been quickly given to the Soviets by the moles who have penetrated the very fabric of British intelligence.”
During a pause I remarked, “I’ve read Berlin was a center for spies on both sides, but I had no idea of the magnitude of the activities conducted here.”
“Our problems are exacerbated by the free and unlimited movement of people between East and West Berlin,” Kurt warned. “Over a hundred thousand people who live in East Berlin have full or part-time jobs over here. The West German Marks they earn, and the subsidies they receive in the East, allow them to live very comfortably. Several thousand enemy agents and operatives from the East join these workers passing through the eighty-one border checkpoints each day. We and our allies send almost as many their way. Several thousand more on both sides spend their days watching their opposite numbers gather information.”
“What’s the distinction between an agent and an operative?” I asked.
“A spy, or more properly, an agent, is a full-time paid employee of a government organization tasked with gathering intelligence on a nation’s enemies or friends. An operative is someone who, for money or because of loyalty to a cause, is willing to spy on a perceived enemy.”
The conversation lagged, so I said, “Thanks for sharing your perspective with me. You’re saying we need to remember to tread very lightly on the other side. Our tunnel would seem to be a provocative activity.”
“Hence, it’s even more important that we keep it a secret from everyone!” Kurt stated.
Scott added, “We are unlucky enough to have perhaps thirty Stasi agents who do nothing but monitor the activities at our little old Air Force base here at Tempelhof. Several of them are around every hour of the day and night.”
“I want to make sure all four of us recognize that Stasi agents excel at spy craft of all forms,” Kurt said, looking each of us in the eye to emphasize his point. “We must be careful not to underestimate them.”
Mark closed the meeting. “Robert and I will certainly discuss every aspect of the tunnel building with the two of you to ensure we’re as secure as possible. We appreciate knowing what’s going on. We’ll probably need to have frequent meetings, which I’ll attend when I can.”
<
br /> “Before we adjourn, I have a question. Does anyone have any idea how we’re going to secretly transport thirty-four American construction workers from their quarters here at Tempelhof to the building where the tunnel will be located every day?”
When no one responded, I continued, “I can just see the thirty Stasi agents Scott mentioned and probably more than one spy or informant from each of the numerous organizations Kurt listed, clambering over each other at the front gate. All attempting to determine who these new men are and what they are doing in Berlin?”
They glanced at each other, but no one replied to my question.
Feet of Tunnel Completed: 0 Days until Deadline: 345
Chapter 16
Thursday, October 20, 1960
Wearing civilian suits and hats, Mark, Scott and I walked out the base’s front security gate, intending to walk to “the building.” Kurt would meet us there.
Scott immediately determined we’d picked up a tail, saying, “We are a little behind schedule, perhaps we had better take a taxi.” He herded us toward the airport terminal’s taxi stand.
As soon as we climbed into a Mercedes cab, Scott said to the driver, “Take us to the Hilton Hotel.” He looked back in time to see two followers get into a cab, which now trailed us. He took out a pad of paper and scribbled a note: We’re being followed by at least two people.
After arriving at the Hilton, we followed Scott. We took an elevator to the fourth floor, descended the stairs down to the basement, and exited through a loading dock to a side street. We walked a few blocks until Scott felt sure we were no longer being followed. Then another taxi took us within four blocks of the building. We managed to arrive at the appointed time, despite our detour.
Kurt was waiting for us. By earlier agreement, the four of us silently walked around the outside of the neo-classical building. Constructed of white marble, the Ionic columns extended from the street level to the corbelled roof. The windows on each floor were positioned between the columns and surrounded by elaborately carved marble frames. The structure was capped by a decorative cast-iron parapet and a massive dome.
On the south end, I pointed to several things without verbal comment. The walkway adjacent to the western side of the Spree appeared deserted, except for us. Three sets of People’s Police—VoPos were visible on the opposite shore. Storefronts on the north and west side of the building were closed for business. We went through the main entrance, down a set of stairs on the right side, and used a key to open a door. A vast basement lay before us.
Having studied a set of plans, I described the scene for my companions. “The first thing that catches your attention is the eighty-eight interior columns which go from the basement to the roof. They are spaced about eleven meters, thirty-six feet on center. They are one meter square and made out of steel-reinforced concrete. According to the original plans from 1870, they extend ten meters, about thirty-three feet, below the surface of the basement.”
“It’s almost like a forest of pillars!” Scott exclaimed.
“As you can see, the four-story building is rectangular—395 feet by 338 feet. The previous owner began a complete remodel of the building, so everything between the basement and the roof, except of course, the load-bearing columns and most apartments on the upper floors of the building, has been removed.”
“What does load-bearing mean?” Scott asked.
“These columns and the outside walls bear the weight of the entire building. They support not only the roof, but also the interior structure—floors, walls and ceilings—everything.”
“There’s certainly enough room here to store a lot of the soil that will have to be removed from the tunnel.”
“You’re correct, Mark” I replied. “That’s a significant advantage. A fleet of trucks removing soil from an existing building would be unusual and would give away what we’re doing!”
I saw a German sign, which read, “Elektrisches Zimmer.” Inviting everyone inside, I announced, “This building is equipped with standard German 50 Hz, 400-amp, four-wire service. It looks to have been replaced recently—probably the initial step in the remodeling process. That means we’ve sufficient electrical power to support all of our construction efforts and the Exploitation Center when it’s built.”
As we walked toward the east end of the building, I told my companions, “When we were outside, I noticed the visible deterioration of the south-east end of the building.”
“I also noticed some large cracks around some of the windows,” Mark observed.
“A note on the plans for the remodel, which were recently approved by the Berlin Building Department, call for substantial repairs to that end of the building. It was severely damaged by allied bombs in 1944, and hasty repairs were done in 1946 to satisfy the demand for housing. We’ll need vehicle access to this basement, so a roll-up door and ramp down to the basement are a must at that end of the building.”
“I’ll go to the building department this afternoon. Perhaps no additional approvals will be required for a temporary installation,” Kurt volunteered.
“Let’s take a look at the southeast corner, which is where my predecessor decided we should place our elevator shaft.”
After we reached the corner, I stated, “His concept was to build a shaft perhaps sixty feet deep in this area and install an elevator. Everything would go up and down to our tunnel entrance in it. As you can see, several of the columns in this area were hastily repaired in 1946 with cement and bricks. The structural integrity in this area is questionable, so we’ll have to keep that in mind with every step we take.”
“Would you define structural integrity?” Scott asked.
“In layman’s terms, it means the building might fall down. See the cracks in this column and the next one over, plus those running up and down that outside wall and around those windows? Those mean something has moved, which isn’t a good thing!”
“Kurt, can we get a German structural engineering firm to do an assessment of that end of the building?” Mark asked.
“I’ll look into it and get back to you.”
I asked, “Mark, you’ve indicated the Army Corps of Engineers is sending all of their people with top-secret, code-word security clearances to build the tunnel. Do we know exactly how many men?”
“Thirty-four enlisted men.”
“Do any of them speak German?”
“I doubt it.”
“I’ve calculated we need at least sixty-two men to complete the tunnel within the allotted time, because we’ll operate day and swing shifts.”
“I’ll start working on getting more people,” Mark offered.
“A large number of them need to speak German like a native.”
“Why?” The others asked in unison.
“Since we are right in the middle of a residential area, it’s inevitable for our construction crew to interface with the local residents and others as they move around Berlin,” I informed them. “The men who are going to man the security checkpoint at the front door, the roll-up door, and truck drivers need to speak German without a noticeable accent. Remember, everything has to go in and out of here by truck.”
Scott gasped, pointing out, “Very few foreign-born individuals are ever granted top-secret clearances.”
“Someone should have thought about this before now,” Mark observed.
Kurt nodded his agreement. “Everything I’ve seen and heard today gives me pause. The structure is unsafe, and a large part of our workforce needs to speak German like a native. I hope solutions to both problems can be found quickly, or I may conclude we were a bit hasty in buying this building.”
Feet of Tunnel Completed: 0 Days until Deadline: 343
Chapter 17
Friday, October 21, 1960
The next morning, at my request, Scott dropped by.
“I’ve got two things we need to discuss. First, both Colonel Morgan and Mark have leaned on me to stop dating Anna. Can you help me?”
“They
also talked to me about your situation,” Scott said. “I explained they had four options: send you back to the States; continue to harass you until you comply with that requirement; exercise some form of judicial authority to get you to conform; or, accept the situation and hope nothing comes of it. They then asked me to leave so they could determine a course of action.”
“You’ve been here for a while. What do you think they’ll do?”
“They don’t have anyone to replace you—so you’ve got them by the balls. Just relax and hope neither Anna nor her family creates problems for you, old buddy. What’s your other topic of discussion?”
“One of those Stasi agents who followed us yesterday was Dieter Holburg.”
“Yes, I know. That’s bad. Somehow he has decided you’re here for something he should know about.”
“What are we going to do?”
“Don’t know. Usually, we just ignore them and eventually their attention is directed at something or someone else.”
“That may not work this time.”
“You’re right. I’ll tell Mark that I’m going to give you counter-surveillance training one or two days a week until you are proficient at recognizing and losing a tail. How about Tuesdays and Thursdays?”
“Those days are as good as any.”
“Don’t go near the building until I tell you that you’re ready!”
I nodded. “Okay.”
It was at exactly 1300 when Mark entered the combination into the cipher lock and stepped into the tank. He immediately said, “This is our regular Friday meeting time. Do we have anything to discuss?”
“I’ve several things.”
“Shoot.”
“Yesterday, Kurt informed me we can install a roll-up door for as long as construction is ongoing, but it may need to be removed before we receive final occupancy approval.”
“That’s good. Go on.”
“Sir, that brings up two things. First, building inspectors everywhere are rather aggressive, have the authority to enter a building site at any time, inspect everything, and close us down at will. We need Kurt to pull strings to withdraw our building permits so we’re exempt from the entire inspection process.”
The Berlin Tunnel Page 7
