The Berlin Tunnel

by Roger L Liles

  I melted into his arms—we’d committed to having a future together.

  Chapter 26

  Robert

  Monday, November 14, 1960

  As a result of my trip to Washington D.C., I was required to prepare and send a weekly status report on the tunneling program to the three decision makers.

  TOP SECRET LUMAR—RESTRICTED DISTRIBUTION—US EYES ONLY

  Memorandum #1 from Captain Robert Kerr Berlin,November 14, 1960

  After leaving Fort Meade last week, I issued purchase orders for the following equipment and supplies:

  Ninety-eight (98) fifty-five-gallon drums of Bentonite, a highly absorbent clay derived from weathered volcanic ash. When mixed with water and injected into our Berlin sand, it should form a hard surface which water can’t easily penetrate. Our Bosch TBM head has a 360-degree slurry-coat injection nozzle system, so our equipment is capable of supporting its use. Once dry, it will support the sand long enough for our erector to place sections of the tunnel structure into position.

  Ten (10) battery-powered mining tractors and twenty-two (22) mining carts (14 designed for soil removal and 8 for equipment transport). Six (6) electric personnel transport vehicles. All ordered from Caterpillar in Peoria, Illinois.

  Two (2) pressure doors designed for a 3-meter tunnel; five (5) air compressors with automatic feedback loops and one (1) prefabricated 20-man decompression chamber from the US subsidiary of Booth Industries of Britain. They will be taken from stock in the UK and trucked to Rhein-Main AFB next week. This equipment can then be transported with the tunneling equipment to Berlin via the Pregnant Guppy.

  Miscellaneous electrical and hydraulic tools from Milwaukee Power Tools Company, located in the city of the same name. List attached.

  I also visited Bechtel in San Francisco where I interned for two summers while an undergraduate. They took me on tours of two California tunnel construction projects. One was located beneath a river. I was able to talk with project managers, construction supervisors, and tunnel boring machine operators. I now feel more confident this project can be successfully completed.

  Signed,

  Robert T. Kerr, Captain USAF

  TOP SECRET LUMAR—RESTRICTED DISTRIBUTION—US EYES ONLY

  Feet of Tunnel Completed: 0 Days until Deadline: 318

  Chapter 27

  Anna

  Thursday, November 17, 1960

  Today after work, Robert and I left the base, holding hands for the first time. The sun had set over an hour earlier, but there was no wind, the temperature was moderate, and we were warmly dressed. The street lights provided an inviting path to our destination, a nearby restaurant. We passed a small park, and I led him to a well-lit bench. “I want to finish my description of that night, so you will understand why I fear the touch of men, all men, including Papa, my brother and….even you. I’ll tell it in English to ensure you understand it all. Once I’ve told you, then we need never talk about it again.”

  I took both of his hands into mine, looked him straight in the eye. Intent on remaining calm, I began to explain what happened “that night.”

  “The five giant Russian monsters surrounded Sophia and me. First, they searched us, then ripped off our clothes. They made comments to each other, but we did not understand what they said. They had not bathed for weeks or even months—the stench they gave off made me nauseous. They were filthy, and they all had long scraggly beards and hair.

  “One of the men groped me, digging his rough hands into the flesh between my legs. He made a comment, and they all laughed uproariously. I tried to run away, but he grabbed my hair with one hand and placed his free arm around my neck.”

  I bit my lip as my chin quivered. I fought off the urge to burst into tears, but managed to continue, knowing I needed Robert to understand. “One grabbed me when I tried to run away. I wanted to get help. The other four shoved Sophia down onto the muddy, cobblestoned street. I tried to look away, but my captor used his iron grip to ensure I watched them rape my beloved sister. She whimpered but did not resist. She seemed to sense they would have beaten or killed her had she struggled. Soon, blood covered Sophia’s lower body.

  “By this point, I was crying so hard I could barely see. I struggled and cried for help. The man holding me placed his arm over my nose and mouth. I could not breathe and went limp. He took his arm away. I became cold, very cold.

  “All the while, jovial banter was being exchanged between our captors. Next, they turned Sophia over and spread her legs wide. Now the man who had been holding me took his huge penis out of his pants, flashed it toward me and made me touch it. He then knelt down and inserted it into Sophia’s anus. Her loud scream so frightened me, I hid my face in the foul garment of the Russian who caught me as I again tried to run away. After the last man finished with Sophia, he took his limp penis in his hand and approached me, making another comment which elicited mirth from the others…. I was shoved to the ground, sure my turn was next. The five soldiers sauntered down the street, as if nothing had happened.”

  I again felt the cold terror of that night. I began to weep. Robert took me in his arms. We sat in silence for a long time. Then I looked up into his face.

  Sadness clouded his features as he rasped, “Anna, I can’t imagine how much you suffered over the years—you were so young—traumatized by evil no one should be forced to witness or experience.” He brushed my tears from my cheeks and kissed me tenderly.

  I muttered, “I want to tell you all about it, so….”

  He waited patiently until I mustered the strength to continue. “For some minutes after they left, Sophia and I just clung to each other weeping, unable to move. I finally crawled over to our discarded clothes and helped Sophia to dress. I began to sob. Sophia tried to comfort me and she eventually got me dressed. My torn clothes only partially covered me. I felt nauseous and almost fainted. It seemed to take forever as we struggled to our feet and supported each other down that deserted alley. Once we entered our home, my screams for help brought my family down the stairs. Between sobs, Sophia told them, ‘Papa, some Russian soldiers hurt me badly.’ ”

  “ ‘No. Not that, not my sweetheart!’ Mama shrieked, knowing she had been raped. Turning to me, she asked, ‘Did they also hurt you?’ ‘Not like that!’ I replied. Taking Sophia in his arms Papa shouted ‘Those bastards! How could they…my innocent, lovely girl…’ Turning to me, he asked, ‘Why did you two go outside?’

  “ ‘We thought the Schaffer’s left some food behind…’ Sophia murmured before she fainted into Papa’s arms. Papa shook her vigorously. She revived somewhat, and over time they got her down the stairs into the examining room. Helmuth was told to go back to bed.”

  Almost afraid to recount this part of that night, I winced but went on, “Once Sophia was undressed and on the examination table, Papa said, ‘You must take her hands. I have neither antiseptic nor painkillers. Sorry, Sophia, my dear.’ He gave her a piece of gauze, telling her, ‘Bite down on this because everything I do will hurt you. Put your feet in the stirrups and slide as far toward me as possible.’ The electricity had been off for weeks. All we had were kerosene lamps. Mama held the lamp for Papa. He spent several minutes examining Sophia’s vagina and anus, suturing tears. Each time the needle entered her flesh she flinched and squeezed my hands hard, but never cried out. He next closed several cuts on her lower abdomen, which he said were ‘caused by something sharp worn by one of the men.’ Papa attempted to comfort my sister by saying, ‘Sophia, darling, you are severely bruised and will be sore for a few days, but will be okay.’ ”

  “At the time I was happy at Papa’s reassuring words. Then, I began to cry. Mama took me in her arms to comfort me. Papa found a bite that one of the Russians had inflicted on Sophia’s neck. He used vodka to sterilize that wound. Mama stood her in a tub and washed her. Once Sophia was propped up in bed, Mama went out and soon returned with broth from a neighbor. Papa kept an eye on all of her wounds for several days to make sure she developed
no infection. Four weeks later, he performed an abortion on Sophia.

  “One night a few weeks later, I heard my parents talking. Mama said, ‘Only those barbaric Russians would use organized rape of women as revenge.’ Papa replied, ‘My associates at the hospital and I have performed several thousand abortions on those victims, and many have one or more venereal diseases. The black-market price of that new drug, penicillin, is beyond the means of those poor women. Our other treatments are not very effective.’ ”

  I looked at Robert. “It was only when I was much older that I understood exactly what my parents were saying. As you know, being touched by a man causes me severe anxiety. That night of dancing with you was the first time I hadn’t panicked at having a man’s arms around me.”

  “What about your sister? Is she all right?” Robert asked.

  I nodded. “Within three years, Sophia married and now has three children. We never discuss that night. As far as I can tell, she’s been able to block it out or otherwise cope with it. I was the one who suffered as I was growing up. I felt raped in repeated nightmares and flashbacks.”

  Taking me in his arms, Robert whispered, “Anna, I’m surprised you were able to recount such a harrowing experience without breaking down. You’re very brave.”

  “I knew I had to tell you. I’ve frequently rehearsed in my mind what I would say. I’m happy you now know it all. It’s a big relief.”

  “Please, remember you’re safe with me. I promise to never do anything to cause you distress. If you ever feel even the least bit uncomfortable, tell me—I’ll immediately stop whatever’s bothering you.”

  I snuggled into his arms. We sat there in silence knowing we had passed another significant milestone in our developing relationship.

  Chapter 28

  Robert

  Thursday, November 24, 1960

  “How in the world does one have Thanksgiving in Berlin?” I’d asked Scott the previous week.

  “All the Officers Clubs put on lavish spreads, but the best is at the main club in Clay Compound. All the brass and civilian VIPs will be there. Advanced reservations are required, and they’ve been booked up for weeks.”

  “Doesn’t sound like a fun place for the likes of us, even if we could get in!”

  “It’s a mid-afternoon sit-down meal here at the Tempelhof Club for us, I’m afraid.”

  “Why don’t we have a party?”

  “Neither Mia nor I can boil water, and takeout pizza isn’t really appropriate for this particular holiday.”

  “Anna is an excellent cook. She wants to do a combined Thanksgiving Dinner and housewarming for my new apartment, and you’re invited.”

  Two friends from the base agreed to come to the party; one married to an American girl, the other asked if Anna could arrange a blind date for him with one of her friends. Everyone had the day off because they worked for American companies or on the base.

  On Monday, I bought a turkey at the commissary, only to be confronted by the tiny refrigerator in my apartment. “It’ll never fit,” I said to Anna.

  In English, Anna said, “It’s frozen, and we must let it “unfreeze” in the refrigerator. If we leave it out, it’ll spoil.”

  “Anna, darling, the correct word in English is ‘defrost.’ ”

  “That doesn’t make any sense, frost is moisture that forms outside in the winter, isn’t it?”

  “I know. English has many words and phrases that make no sense. Whereas German is so precise and exact.” Laughing and taking her in my arms. “A good example is that refrigerator is kuhlscharnk, cool cabinet in German, a very descriptive word. I have no idea where we English got the word refrigerator.”

  Anna smiled. “This is what we’ll do—take everything out of the refrigerator, put the turkey in, put as much back as possible, and cook everything else for supper this evening.”

  Of course, Anna’s solution worked perfectly.

  By the time our guests arrived Thanksgiving Day, dinner was in the oven. We suggested a game of couple’s team English-German Scrabble—words could be made in either language. We had a rousing time, five Americans and three Germans challenging each other on words in both languages while consuming copious amounts of good German white wine and beer.

  From time to time, Anna or I popped into the kitchen to check on the meal.

  Dinner went exceptionally well as the turkey was done to perfection and the pumpkin pie (Anna’s first) was only a little over-done.

  Later, we divided into two teams and played charades.

  After our guests departed, Anna hugged me and exclaimed, “I so wanted your holiday to be like it is in America. You’re so far away from family on this special day.”

  “Anna, darling, I feel like my home and family are here in this room. Your meal was as good as any I ever ate at home. Thank you.”

  We went to bed together, Anna falling asleep almost immediately. I avoided touching her, as I didn’t want to ruin our budding relationship.

  Chapter 29

  Friday, November 25, 1960

  I awoke with a start and soon realized that Anna was sleeping on her side and her hand rested on my shoulder. She was touching me in this intimate setting—that was good. We both had this Friday after Thanksgiving off. I got up, determined to let her sleep in. A few hours later I kissed her forehead and served her breakfast in bed.

  Later, we walked hand-in-hand to the Dahlem Museum, which Anna explained “houses almost exclusively European old-masters paintings. This collection was divided after the war and about half of our finest works are now in the East, on Museum Island.”

  “What happened to these works of art during the war?” I asked.

  “What’s here was hidden in an old salt mine in Bavaria. Unfortunately, all of the largest works, which were some of the finest, were stored in a nearby bomb shelter. Despite being underground and supposedly safe, all of them were destroyed in a fire-bomb raid toward the end of the war.”

  Her facial expression revealed she felt the loss at a personal level. “That’s unfortunate,” I said, touching Anna’s arm.

  “Let’s see the magnificent works that survived,” she replied in an effort to lighten the mood.

  Walking into a nearby gallery, Anna said, “Ah so, here is one of the best. Jan Vermeer’s The Glass of Wine. See how the light entering the room through the window illuminates a scene where a young woman shares a glass of wine with a young man. Vermeer just hints at the relationship between them. Get close and see the minute details displayed in this relatively small painting. He mastered….”

  For the next several hours, Anna took me from one painting to the next. She provided spellbinding explanations of the lives of the artists, why each painting was an important work, and how they were produced and authenticated. Late in the day, she said, “And now we come to one of my favorites—Pieter Brugel’s Dutch Proverbs. It was painted in an era when few could read, so this was a visual morality lesson. Let’s see how many of the hundred proverbs we can find these tiny figures performing….”

  On the way back to my apartment, we stopped at a restaurant for supper. During the meal, I thanked Anna for the wonderful day, especially her detailed descriptions of the works of art. She clearly cared about art, and I had a greater appreciation of her desire to complete her art history studies.

  “First the Nazis and now the communists want to control and subvert the natural human desire to express ourselves through art. That is why it is so important for me to study and understand this creative desire. Robert, I must complete my education and help promote the freedom of expression that is our human right.”

  I smiled, nodded my agreement and tenderly caressed Anna’s hand, not wanting to spoil the mood with words.

  Chapter 30

  Saturday, November 26, 1961

  The next morning Anna gave me a present—Komplettes Menschliches Sex-Handbuch—The Complete Human Sex Manual. “When I was at Heidelberg, I had some therapy sessions. The psychologist recommended I us
e a sex education book like this with a man I liked to overcome my phobia.”

  I was speechless, so she added, “If I’m ever going to get over my fear of men, you’ll have to be patient with me. We’ll read this manual—it’ll be therapy for me, and you might even learn a thing or two.”

  We sat there fully clothed and began to read and discuss the manual together. The glossary had to be consulted to explain many of the terms used in the descriptions of physiology, foreplay, stimulation and sexual positions.

  For the next month and a half, our love grew as we explored each other’s bodies and learned how to please each other, remaining chaste in the process.

  Chapter 31

  Monday, November 28, 1960

  After greeting Scott in my tank, I groused, “I spent most of the last two days in my apartment. Every time I looked out the window facing the street, one or more Stasi agents were standing on the curb. Even through that snow storm, they were always there. They certainly are dedicated.”

  “So, you really need counter-surveillance training. My Special Investigations Officers training course included Counter Surveillance. Because I was coming to Berlin, I was provided with a refresher course on the same subject at the CIA Training Center at Quantico, Virginia.”

  “Impressive credentials.”

  “Virtually all surveillance and counter-surveillance involve human interaction. People are both more vulnerable to another person’s actions and more capable of reacting creatively to being monitored.”

  “That certainly makes sense.”

  “What we are going to cover today are just the basics, which are known in the spy business by the acronym SELCH.”