The Berlin Tunnel

by Roger L Liles

  During the meal, the banter among the members of the Fischer family was in the high German I had learned at the university. I understood most of their conversation, despite the fact they talked fast and often talked over each other. When I failed to catch something, I just smiled.

  One of the things that impressed me was the children felt free to enter the conversations and express their opinions.

  Sophia’s oldest son, Stephen, asked me, “You are an Air Force Officer. Do you fly?”

  “In der Amerikanischen Luftwaffe, fliege ich einen Schreibtisch, (In the American Air Force, I fly an office desk).” This was my standard reply when people asked me if I flew. It allowed me to hide what I really did. They all laughed, but Bernard especially seemed to enjoy the joke.

  “Anna told us you are a weatherman. Is that correct?” Emma asked.

  “Yes, I determine if it is safe for American military aircraft to take off and land at Tempelhof Airport. Perhaps not the best use for my university education as an engineer, but in the military one learns to adjust to their requirements. It is an easy job which I have learned to like.”

  Nine-year-old Angelica, whose pigtails bounced as she talked, joined in. “Anna says you live near Hollywood. Do you know anyone famous like Paul Newman or Elvis Presley?”

  “No, I am afraid not. Fifteen million people live in or near Los Angeles.”

  “Amazing. That is almost the same number as live in all of East Germany, including East Berlin,” Stephen observed.

  Little four-year-old Andrea’s long blond hair was cut in bangs. Her flashing blue eyes showed a budding intellect. She picked up her orange. “Thank you for the orange. Did you grow it?”

  “No, but when I was your age, I could walk out into my backyard and pick one anytime I wanted.”

  After eating the main course, I raised my voice and delivered a carefully thought out statement, “Emma, Dies ist eine ausgezeichnete Mahlzeit—der fisch war köstlich (This is an excellent meal—the fish was delicious).” Emma beamed with delight as everyone else complimented her on the excellent dinner. Then I thanked them all for sharing their Christmas with me.

  Bernard rose and proposed a toast, “May the Fischer family always be all together for these important holidays.”

  “Prost.” Clinking of glasses around the table.

  “We need especially to welcome Robert from America to our celebration. We have this excellent Mosel white wine due to his largess.”

  “Prost.”

  Soon the family gathered in the living room, and the presents were opened. Anna had spent almost a month carefully selecting each gift. Her efforts were rewarded with hugs for Anna and either hugs or handshakes for me.

  For Andrea, Anna’s favorite, she had selected a Barbie doll with several different outfits. The child was so excited, she was speechless. Then, she hugged and kissed Anna. Next, she crawled up into my lap, gave me a hug, and said, “I like you. Are you going to marry Anna? She really likes you and needs a husband.”

  Speechless, I looked around the room as everyone laughed. I took Anna’s hand in mine. “Anna is very precious to me. If we decide to marry, you will be the first person we will tell. Is that okay?”

  “Okay.” She giggled.

  Chapter 40

  Saturday, December 24, 1960

  Most of the family left to visit in-laws. Only five of us sat around the table for the evening meal. Midway through supper, I turned to Emma and Bernard. “Why do you continue to stay here in the East?”

  “This part of Berlin, this neighborhood, this street, and this structure are our home, right, Emma?”

  “Yes, we have owned this house for over twenty years.”

  “But you no longer really own this house,” Anna said gently. “The communists can confiscate it when any member of the Fischer family displeases them.”

  Bernard frowned at her comment. “For many years, I have been on the Board of Directors of Saint Hedwig’s hospital. Before the war, it was widely recognized as the best hospital in Germany. Our fellow citizens who live in the East deserve the quality medical care that it and I can provide.”

  “Couldn’t you just as easily help people in the West?” I asked.

  “Yes, but there are so few doctors left in the East. The need is great here, not so much over there.”

  “They pay you very little here, Papa,” Anna observed. “That should tell you what the communists think about your dedicated service.”

  Emma interjected, “Many of my fellow professors at Humboldt University have immigrated West. They now teach at the Free University they established there. I decided to stay, because the people of East Berlin also deserve a quality educational institution.”

  “Mama, you are constantly grousing about the communist interference in academic affairs!” Anna said emphatically.

  “Despite the education commissar’s effort for us to be a mouthpiece for their propaganda, we have managed to maintain our academic excellence and independence to a great extent.”

  “You see,” Bernard added, “we have decided that if all of the good people leave East Berlin, the communists will have won. We do not want that to happen. It is a form of defiance on our part. We may be naïve to think the best people must stand up for what is right, but that is how Emma and I have decided to live our lives.”

  “The communist bureaucrats only occasionally interfere with our day-to-day lives or operations at work,” Emma said. “We know and are willing to live within the political boundaries they have established.”

  “Life is good, so why change?” Bernard concluded. “If another war comes, we are no safer on one side of the border than the other.”

  Chapter 41

  Sunday, December 25, 1960

  After church services that Sunday morning, Bernard shared his father’s life with me. “After he was ordained in 1917, Gunther volunteered to be a chaplain for a new division of men being recruited in Saxony. They spent much of the war fighting the Russians, but they were eventually sent to the Western Front.”

  “World War I was such an unfortunate tragedy for both sides.”

  “Then, at the relatively young age of forty-five, he was given one of the largest Lutheran congregations in Saxony—Halle’s Saint Michael’s Church. On the Sunday after the famous Crystal Night, he preached the first of many sermons that eventually earned him two years in prison.”

  “As I remember, on Crystal Night, store windows of Jewish shops were broken, Jewish homes and apartments were destroyed, and synagogues were demolished and set on fire.”

  “That is correct. When few other people protested, Hitler decided the German citizenry would acquiesce to his persecution of the Jews, so he authorized an escalation in the level of atrocities.”

  “Your father is, indeed, a brave man.”

  “I was in the congregation several months later when he delivered the sermon that got him sent to prison. He described how during the Great War the Jewish soldiers in his unit fought as valiantly as any Lutheran or Catholic. At the end of his sermon, Gunther pointed his finger at a senior uniformed SS officer in the congregation and revealed, ‘Only three Jewish soldiers in my unit survived the war. All three were among the German citizens who were arrested and shipped to concentration camps from here last week!’ ”

  “No wonder they sent him to prison,” I observed. “The Nazis never accepted criticism of any form.”

  “He was finally released in 1941 when Hitler and the Nazis were in control of most of Western Europe—they no longer feared the truth.”

  “He survived? I hope to meet him one day to shake his hand.”

  “Yes, and today from his church in Halle, he continues to fight the corrupt communist regime that controls us. A Lutheran youth movement he helped establish is designed to counter the communist Young Pioneers. It is gaining ground in many places here in the East.”

  Emma entered the room, sat on the arm of the overstuffed chair that Bernard occupied, and said, “Robert, I need to
tell you of my parents. My father was a minor nobleman, who owned a large estate. When the Russians arrived in early 1945, they occupied my parent’s manor house and then burned it to the ground as they moved toward Berlin. Soon after the war, the East German government confiscated their land and incorporated it into collective farms. Today they live in a tiny apartment in Dresden on the small pittance the East German state pays ‘non-contributing’ retirees. They are in failing health. We help them as much as we can, but….”

  She sighed and stood. “Today we have a traditional German Christmas dinner. Goose—one-half is stuffed with apples, dates, chestnuts, and onions—the other half is stuffed with ground beef mixed with bread cubes. It is accompanied by red cabbage, dumplings, and gravy made from the drippings. Everything is as it has been in Germany for hundreds of years.”

  After dinner, Anna and I stood near the front door and said our goodbyes. The doorbell rang. Nearest to the door, I said, “I will get it.” I felt the floor drop out from under me as I looked into the face of Dieter Holburg.

  I’m vulnerable here—mustn’t panic—calm down—deep breaths—now!

  Bernard, sensing my distress, moved in front of me. “Yes, may I help you?”

  “Ah, Herr Doctor Fischer. My name is Dieter Holburg.” He held out his hand which Bernard ignored.

  He sneered, “I am actually here to see Captain Kerr of the United States Air Force. It is a private matter.” With a sweep of his hand, he stated, “If he would join me outside, that would be best.”

  This brief delay had allowed me to steady my breathing and regain my composure to some degree. I asked, “What do you want?”

  “This matter will be best handled between the two of us outside.”

  I reluctantly followed Dieter across the street, where a Stasi agent I recognized as number 13 stood on the curb behind the little Trabant. Dieter opened the door. “We could sit in my car and have the privacy this matter requires.”

  Determined to resist whatever he had in mind, I exclaimed, “You know the speech that my friend Captain Taylor gave you a few months ago—I can repeat it, or you can tell me what you want—do so now, or I’m going back to Doctor Fischer’s house.” I crossed my arms over my chest so that he couldn’t see my shaking hands.

  “Maybe you would like to talk at the local police station or in my office at Stasi Headquarters?”

  “Look. We both know you do not want the shit storm that would occur if you try to arrest me. Tell me what this is about or leave.”

  “Here are photographs I would like you to tell me about.”

  He spread out numerous telephoto images of Scott and me in the hangar as the Pregnant Guppy aircraft rolled into position so the doors could be closed.

  I laughed. “I’m standing beside an airplane.”

  “Tell me more.”

  “Captain Taylor and I are standing beside an airplane.”

  “Don’t play games with me. Why did this odd-shaped plane arrive in Berlin at 23:17 last Sunday evening, and what was inside of it?”

  “How long were you in the military, Herr Holburg?”

  “From 1938 to 1946. Why?”

  “Did you spend much time on the front lines?”

  “Yes, from the siege of Stalingrad to Berlin.”

  Pausing, I thought, he’s a dedicated communist who fought with the Russians against the Nazis. This ploy may just work. “How many times did your superior officers tell you to do something?”

  “Too many to count.”

  “How many times did they tell you everything about what was going on?”

  “Never.”

  “Okay, my boss Colonel Powell is on leave in the United States. Before he left, he ordered Captain Taylor and me to meet that strange shaped aircraft and sign for the cargo. The invoice for the shipment did not say what it was or where it came from or who sent it. All blank. It was described as fifteen wooden crates of various sizes. That is what I signed for. As a weatherman, I know less than you probably do about all of the things the United States Air Force does at Tempelhof Airport.”

  I turned, my legs rubbery and my gate was a bit unsteady. I managed to march lock-step across the street, up the steps, and through the Fischer’s front door before I collapsed.

  Anna caught me before I hit the floor. Together, she and Bernard helped me down to his surgery via the back stairs.

  “It’s a heart attack. I’ll give him a shot of digitalis.”

  “I am having a panic attack,” I gasped.

  “Then a mild sedative will do the trick,” Bernard decided.

  Fifteen minutes after I felt a prick in my arm, I was back to normal.

  Glancing down at my watch, I almost had another attack. I had just over thirty minutes to get back over the border and call Colonel Morgan about my safe return.

  “Anna, I have a critical phone call I forgot to make. We must leave immediately.” Hurried goodbyes were said.

  At the subway station, we had just eighteen minutes until my deadline. Anna looked at me strangely, but she supported me, saying, “We’ll go straight through to Potsdamer Platz station. It’s in the West. There are phone booths there. The holiday subway schedule says the next train won’t arrive for nine more minutes. Sit down and relax—we’ll make it.”

  Ignoring her assurances, I paced back and forth, checking my watch every few seconds. Finally, I felt the air being pushed forward as the train entered the station.

  “Robert, relax. You’ll have another problem if you don’t just sit down.”

  I fidgeted in my seat for the six-minute transit. Anna handed me a coin and took charge of the luggage. I ran to the phone booths. All were occupied except one, and it had an out-of-order sign on it. I paced, watching each booth for any movement, and rechecked my watch. Finally, one became vacant.

  My hand shook as I forced the coin into the slot, dialed the number, and waited. “Come on, come on—answer the damn phone,” I muttered.

  Finally, I heard a familiar voice. “Colonel Morgan speaking.”

  “Sir, this is Captain Kerr. My visit was enjoyable, and I have returned.” My voice sounded surprisingly calm.

  “Thank you, Captain. I’ll see you in the office in the morning.”

  Once we returned to our apartment, Anna confronted me. “That encounter with that Stasi agent on my parent’s doorstep has convinced me you aren’t a weatherman. What do you really do?”

  “Anna, what I do is very important to the defense of both our countries. That’s all I can tell you. You’ll just have to trust me on this one matter.”

  Chapter 42

  Thursday, December 29, 1960-Tuesday, January 3, 1961

  My Christmas present to Anna was a six-day vacation to London. During the long bus ride from Heathrow, she squeezed my arm and whispered words I’d waited so long to hear. “I’m ready for us to make real love this evening.”

  Once we reached the rented apartment, I let her set the pace, careful not to rush her. It was more beautiful than I could have imagined. All those weeks of pretend lovemaking actually paid big rewards. I knew what pleased her, and she knew what pleased me.

  “We’ve become one, darling. I love you,” I told her at the conclusion of our first coupling.

  We lay in a post-coital embrace for several minutes before she kissed me and whispered, “Robbie, that’s the first time you stated you love me—I love you too, darling man—Ich liebe dich!”

  The warm rosy glow in the early hours of the next morning was followed by many couplings over the next five days and nights. We were so enamored with each other, we were in bed making love when the New Year 1961 arrived. It was a good thing we couldn’t foretell the future, as neither of us was prepared for most of what happened to us in that momentous year. The attention of the entire world was often focused on Berlin, and Anna and I were at the very center of events that daily made headlines in newspapers around the world.

  “Berlin is the testicles of the West.

  When I want the West to
scream, I squeeze on Berlin.”

  Nikita Khrushchev, 1961

  Chapter 43

  Thursday, January 5, 1961

  “During yesterday’s excitement, I never got a chance to introduce myself. I’m Captain Robert Kerr, the Chief Engineer for this construction program. You’ve all signed the appropriate paperwork, so we can tell you that the Cold War may well be won or lost due to the efforts of those assigned to this program.”

  I leaned in and paused for effect. “We are going to tunnel under the River Spree and tap into a major communist communications system. By reading their messages and listening to their phone conversations, our government will hopefully foil their efforts to continue the spread of Communism into Western Europe.”

  I had the undivided attention of the twelve Seabees who’d arrived the previous day, and eight Air Force enlisted men who’d arrived over the past week.

  “The existence of the tunnel and its purpose are classified beyond Top Secret. We’re relying on each of you to support our goal of hiding our construction program from the world. As most of you experienced yesterday, the communists are out there waiting to pounce—one casual remark, one unguarded moment, or one untoward action by you could compromise this entire project. Remember, think before you speak or act!”

  I continued, “If you reveal anything about any aspect of this construction project, you’ll be prosecuted under the espionage laws. The prison sentence for each infraction is a maximum of thirty years! Is that clear?”

  They answered with a resounding, “Yes sir!” I pointed my finger at each of the twenty sober-faced individuals who looked back at me.

  “Yesterday, one of us almost handed the communists a major victory. We all must be constantly vigilant—Berlin is a city awash in communist spies and operatives. The objective of this two-day orientation session is to make you understand one fact—if the enemy finds out about our efforts, they’ll do everything possible to deny us this crucial source of information. Lieutenant Colonel Powell, my boss and our immediate senior officer here in Berlin, has a few opening remarks he’d like to deliver before this training session really gets underway.”