“Ok. Anything else you want to tell us?”
“No, Chief. Am I in real trouble?”
“That’s not for anyone in this room today to decide,” Chief Weber said.
Once Jelnicky had been removed from the room, Scott informed us, “It was a classic ‘honeypot’ espionage sting. Gorgeous female seduces hapless dupe into telling all.”
“What he told her was everything he knew,” the Chief observed.
“Unfortunately, this is much more serious,” Scott said. “Chief, even though you and your men were wearing suits and carrying suitcases when you arrived at the airport and again at the Hilton, the Stasi probably pegged you as American military men. We must conclude that they now have photographs of each of you. You’ve all been compromised.”
“But we must have the native German speakers to make our construction project viable,” I said in frustration.
“Perhaps there’s a way…let’s go upstairs,” Mark suggested. “After the Chief signs some security paperwork, we’ll reveal our plans. Perhaps then I can offer a solution.”
Feet of Tunnel Completed: 0 Days until Deadline: 262
Chapter 46
Thursday and Friday, January 5-6, 1961
Chief Weber waited for me outside of my tank when I arrived the next morning. I asked, “How’d the men take it?”
“I’ve good news. All of my Navy guys and three of the eight Airmen agreed to accept what’s now being called the Polish Option.”
“Being restricted to their quarters and the construction site for over a year won’t be easy.”
“I’ll bet most of the other guys will select that option. If you’re married, have a family, and intend to remain faithful to your wife, the Polish Option is best.”
“Hope you’re right. The spies here in Berlin won’t be able to compromise our people if they stay on the base or are at work all of the time!”
“Everyone loved the facilities that are being provided. A large private room for each man, separate mess hall, gym and huge rec room.”
“We wanted the men to stay on the base as much as possible. Having those facilities available was part of our plan.”
“The per diem of $20 per day doubles most of their salaries. A four-day pass to visit anywhere in Western Europe once a month, government-paid airfare, and the first choice of leave dates were also a big incentive. These men are seldom home for special occasions like birthdays, anniversaries, family vacations.”
“It’s time for me and Colonel Powell to make our introductory remarks,” I said. “We’ve got to cram two and a half days of orientation and training into less than two full days after yesterday’s excitement.”
After lunch, the orientation session for the twelve Navy and eight Air Force men reconvened. Scott gave his ‘Berlin is Awash with Spies’ briefing. He revealed that, “Yesterday the Russians filed a formal protest claiming, Jelnicky was an East German citizen whom we’d kidnapped to make him reveal state secrets.”
That got everyone’s attention.
During the counter-surveillance training course, Scott said, “Those of you who selected the Polish Option will dress in German construction works clothes and go through the steam tunnels to the Tempelhof Stream Generation Plant. From there, you’ll be transported to the tunnel building in the back of delivery vans with various Berlin construction-company logos on the sides. We’ve acquired these vehicles especially for this project.”
“We’ll shower and dress in our own rooms,” the Chief added.
“Everyone else will dress in German suits, hats, and overcoats, exit through the cipher lock into the Tempelhof Arrivals Area and walk or take public transportation to our building, which is located about two and a half miles from here. Travel alone or in pairs. You’ll change into German construction-worker clothes there.”
“You’ll shower at the building before you change back into your German suits,” the Chief added.
“You’ll also carry briefcases. In West Germany, everyone who works with his hands leaves his house in a suit with a briefcase,” I injected. “They change clothes at work. All we can figure is that they don’t want their neighbors to know what they do. Their briefcases must contain their lunch.”
Everyone laughed.
Scott concluded his remarks by saying, “Remember when I described how to determine if you’re being followed. Once you exit the arrivals hall, make several stops and go around the block to assess your situation. Only then proceed to the building where the tunnel is located. Return here rather than leading someone to that building!”
As Anna and I walked home hand in hand that Thursday evening, I was smiling and feeling jubilent, prompting her to ask, “Why are you so happy? It’s raining.”
“Being with you makes me happy. It makes the world a bright place.” I stopped to share a lingering kiss and embrace under the umbrella as the rain splattered around us.
Happy thoughts continuously ran through my head.
All of the equipment and supplies are in Berlin. The first workers are here. Now, all I need is the courage to lead them and the knowledge to make the necessary tough decisions.
And I’m in love with a wonderful, beautiful woman!
Life is good!
The next day, the twenty men and I went over every aspect of the construction project. They appeared anxious to start work; their knowledge and enthusiasm were encouraging.
Late in the afternoon, each man was shown to his locker, where he tried on his German wardrobe and construction worker uniforms. The purchasing agent in Rhein-Main had done an excellent job of buying European-sized clothes from American measurements.
“Gather round, men. I have a few closing remarks. Our primary objective is to build the tunnel and Exploitation Center in less than nine months, while concealing its existence from the world. Our near-term goal is to begin drilling the tunnel by twenty February. I know I can count on each of you to assist Chief Weber and me in our efforts.”
“Thank you, sir. You have our support,” the Chief declared on behalf of everyone present.
“Men, I hate to do this on your first weekend here, but we’re going to need everyone on hand to help. You’re restricted to your quarters until further notice.”
To celebrate Anna’s birthday that Friday, I took her to the Chez Orleans restaurant in the French Officer’s Club. We enjoyed wonderful food and delicious wine. At the conclusion of our meal, I gave her a gold charm bracelet. “This is all the rage among the women of America. I selected three charms—a gold coin of Saxony from the 19th century to represent your heritage, an outline map of California with a small diamond placed in the approximate location of Los Angeles, my hometown, and a miniature Tower of Big Ben to mark our first vacation together.”
“Oh, Robbie, I love it! I’ll wear it always.” She leaned over and gave me a kiss.
Little did we know that this gift would soon endanger our relationship.
Frequently when we were alone, Anna would whisper, “I know you’re not a weatherman. Why would an engineer with degrees from two prominent universities end up working as a meteorologist?”
I always relied on some variation of, “The military is always screwed up. The Air Force didn’t have many jobs for engineers when I got my commission, but because of increased flight operations, they needed lots of weathermen. So, they trained me.”
She replied, “Why would a weatherman, whose job is to help military aircraft fly into Berlin, need to travel to London and to America in less than three months?”
“Training and to meet my bosses,” I answered, despite how feeble the words sounded.
“You’re often lost in thought, trying to find a solution to some problem. A weatherman wouldn’t have to solve problems after his work day concluded. He would be finished. Are you ever going to tell me the truth?”
I ultimately dealt with the recurring question-and-answer sessions with Anna over my real job by stonewalling her. One evening when she again raised the subject,
I snapped “Please just drop it.” I immediately regretted my outburst as she almost teared up. But, she stopped asking.
Feet of Tunnel Completed: 0 Days until Deadline: 260
Chapter 47
Sunday, January 8, 1961
The Chief, Kurt, Mark and I occupied the lead vehicle, a Buick sedan with fog lights. Five trucks towing flatbed trailers followed us as we threaded our way through the mist. Our destination was a little-used back gate into Tempelhof Airport and Hanger 1, which was dedicated to our program.
“This fog is heaven-sent,” Mark said.
“Yes, we’ll get the TBM and other construction equipment out of the hangar at Tempelhof just in time!” I agreed.
“That bastard Dieter Holburg and his cadre of agents can go fuck themselves.” Kurt raised his middle finger in a rapid upward movement.
Those deftly enunciated words and the accompanying crude gesture from Kurt, the sophisticated European gentleman in a three-piece suit, surprised everyone and eased the tension of the moment. We all laughed.
“Their cameras and infrared sensors will be useless. We’ve won this round of the fight, gentlemen!” Kurt smiled broadly.
“This fog is predicted to burn off around 0900,” I reported. “We have eight hours left, so no resting on our laurels just yet!”
Once inside the fenced area of the airport, I instructed the Chief. “We are now on the main runway. Take the next right turn onto the north taxiway. Follow the broad white stripe. Keep an eye on your odometer. When we’ve gone a mile, slow down to a crawl.”
“We just passed the one-mile point, sir.”
“Slower, even slower. Twenty men are out there to direct us to the hanger. Let’s not run over them.”
From the back seat, Kurt said, “I think I saw a flash of red on our left. Stop, I’ll get out…Rover…Rover!?”
I also got out and shouted, “Rover.”
“Guide.” Looking to my right, I saw someone emerge from the fog.
“Rover.”
“Guide.” When the figure got close enough, I recognized Scott.
Scott repeatedly blew a whistle. Soon men with red cone flashlights in both hands surrounded him.
Two lines of people formed and began to move. The convoy followed them into the massive hangar. The doors clanged shut.
Chief Weber directed the use of a massive aircraft-maintenance crane to lift the TBM off the ground. While using hand gestures, his loud voice commanded attention. “Alex, move that thirty-two wheeled trailer underneath this monster…just so…now a little bit forward…Jim, start lowering it…wait…okay…back up and reposition the trailer a little to the right…okay…all the way down…perfect. Now, pull forward.”
A crew began to place huge, empty wooden crates around the TBM, part of our continuing effort to hide the fact that tunnel-digging equipment was even in Berlin.
The Chief continued to direct activities as the crane lifted other pieces of equipment onto the other trailers. He resembled a maestro directing an orchestra.
As we watched, I said to Mark, “The stenciled German words on the crates, boxes, and cartons being placed atop the TBM and other equipment identify the cargo on those trailers as boilers, radiators, heat exchangers and water tanks.”
“Those containers look authentic,” Mark replied.
“They should, they came from a couple of construction sites over in the British sector. They need to be authentic, because these trailers will be parked out in the open in our maintenance yard until the equipment and supplies on each are needed. Then, they’ll be transported to our building.”
“Time to put the plan into action,” I shouted, “Scott, you’re up, time for the decoy.”
“We’ll go out the main gate very slowly and make sure to get the Stasi watcher’s attention,” Scott told the group before he entered the lead vehicle.
The sliding doors were opened. A convoy that consisted of an Air Police car, tractor/trailer carrying only empty cartons, crates, and boxes, and two more Air Police vehicles emerged, lights flashing. It exited through the main gate onto a side street, turned left, and traveled down the main street on the west side of the airport.
Looking at my watch, I smiled. “Our timing is perfect, 0419 on a foggy, dank Sunday morning.”
Kurt responded, “Usually only a few Stasi agents are on duty at this time. Hopefully, they’ll follow Scott’s convoy.”
“Let’s give them fifteen minutes as planned. Then I’ll lead the real convoy out the back gate to the maintenance yard,” Kurt stated.
Just before sunrise, we arrived undetected at the maintenance yard.
Feet of Tunnel Completed: 0 Days until Deadline: 258
Chapter 48
Tuesday, January 10, 1961
Anna and I apparently hadn’t been followed since my confrontation with Dieter Holburg at Christmas.
Over lunch, I asked Scott, “Do you think it’s time for us to cut our losses by shutting down the weather prediction, beer-betting scam?”
“Mia and I will join you and Anna for supper this evening at the pub to do just that. Then we can play bridge at my apartment.”
The total bill for that little scam was $398, which Scott and I split.
While we stood at the bar to settle accounts with the bartender, Dieter Holburg approached us. In heavily accented English, he said, “Let me buy you two decadent Americans a beer.” He placed a small, blue, ten West Mark bill on the bar. “I appreciate your efforts to convince me that Captain Kerr here is a weatherman. Throughout your charade the whole thing reminded me of three-day-old fish—a bit smelly.”
The look of shock on my face probably revealed the truth.
“You are fortunate, my bosses insist I focus on something new. I have not given up, and I will return after I have solved this new problem,” he snarled.
“I am a weatherman, no matter what you suspect,” I said, probably with too much vigor.
“You played a nasty trick on me in the fog. Like that fish, I had you, but you got away,” Dieter scowled at us.
I shrugged.
Scott began, “You think…”
“—Did one of my associates see the two of you at the Hilton when that major misunderstanding occurred last week?”
Both us knew then that they’d connected us to the construction project Jelnicky had revealed. The Stasi would be even more interested in our movements. I grinned, which probably confirmed his suspicions.
Dieter concluded, “Captain Taylor, I again iterate, the games you play when you cross into East Berlin will one day cost you dearly.”
Chapter 49
Wednesday, January 11, 1961
“The Stasi are masters of misdirection. If Dieter Holburg says something, the opposite is usually true,” Kurt stated.
“What do you think our encounter with him in the bar meant?” I asked, still shaken.
“You’re probably still being followed. But the readily apparent agents, whose purpose is to intimidate, have been replaced by a cadre of Stasi trained to conduct virtually undetectable surveillance operations.”
“What can I do?”
“Wear a civilian suit tomorrow. We’ll determine if you’re being followed and also see how well my team of counter-surveillance specialists can perform their duties.”
The next morning, Kurt announced, “Robert, you’re leaving here to meet one of my associates, Lorna Sanderson, at the Pesto Restaurant, which is just south of Potsdamer Platz. Your objective is to detect and lose any Stasi agents that are following you. Good luck.”
Per his instructions, I walked at a fast pace northeast. I knew the area, because the restaurant was near our apartment and we had recently dined there.
Every few blocks, I window shopped while surveying the scene behind me. I failed to spot a tail.
I’ve failed Situational Awareness.
On my own initiative, I decided to walk around an entire block.
That should cause the people behind me to fall all over each
other.
I was puzzled when no unusual activity became apparent. After entering a combination bar and restaurant, the Germans call a gasthaus, I order a beer, took a few sips, and then walked past the restroom and out the back door.
Convinced that I’d nailed Evasion and Leave without Being Followed, I headed directly to the restaurant where I met Lorna for the first time. She had a gorgeous face and striking red hair but the figure, manner, and dress of a tomboy.
During our meal, she told me, “I’m from suburban Philadelphia and graduated from Bryn Mawr two years ago.” We got acquainted during a banter-filled lunch. Before we parted, she surreptitiously passed a manila envelope to me.
“This meeting will drive the Stasi to distraction, trying to figure out what you two are up to,” Kurt told me earlier.
Once back at the base, he said, “They must think you’re important. They’re devoting five of their best to following you.”
“Really! What happened?
“My simplest explanation is they used four men and one woman, who frequently traded point position in a well-choreographed effort to prevent you from recognizing any of them.”
“They’re very professional. I never saw them!”
“One of the secrets of their success is a new device, which consists of an earpiece that looks like a hearing aid and a small square box that fits into the breast pockets of their suits. This device transmits and receives exchanges between the agents, thus allowing them to easily coordinate their efforts.”
“How do your men identify them?”
“They talk to their breast pockets!”
“I guess I’m just not cut out to be a spy. I didn’t see your agents, either.”
“Glad to hear it. Now let’s get Scott and Mark in here to discuss what all this means.”
A quick trip to their offices revealed both would be available in a few minutes.
The Berlin Tunnel Page 15
