by Robert Elmer
He stuffed his hands in his pockets and studied the floor. “But you’re family, and I won’t try to stop you.”
Incredible. Sabine could hardly believe her ears.
Erich looked at his watch again and shifted on his toes. “It’s dark,” he announced. “We have to go now.”
Sabine and her uncle nodded at each other; that was as close as she could come to a good-bye.
“We should wait for Gertrud,” Frau Becker said as she looked out the window, hoping to see her sister-in-law. But Erich shook his head.
“We can’t, Mutti. We only have thirty minutes. We have to go.”
“I’ll tell her you said good-bye,” Uncle Heinz offered as he peered into the darkness over her shoulder.
“We’ll write,” promised Frau Becker. Of course, no one knew whether the letters would get through. Uncle Heinz nodded once more.
“I’ll take care of everything. Even” — he hesitated — “even Wolfgang. Now go.”
Sabine and her mother shouldered their bulging bags, as if they simply planned to go visit friends. And Sabine looked back at the kitchen once more, at the only home she could remember. Where would they live, over in the West? So near — only a few blocks away — but so far. Still Germany, but another country.
She waited impatiently to give her mother a head start. They couldn’t walk together tonight. And she wondered as she watched Erich shake his uncle’s meaty hand. Their sudden friendliness made her uneasy.
“I’m trusting you to come back tonight, nephew. And don’t forget. You’ve got half an hour. After that, I guarantee nothing. If you’re still there, you’ll be arrested, just like anybody else. I won’t be able to do a thing about it.”
“Don’t worry,” Erich told him. “I’ll come back. And you can take all the credit for finding the tunnel. That was our deal, and I’ll stick to my end of it.”
“See that you do.”
Sabine gulped at their conversation. But it explained why Erich had watched the clock so closely. And now they had only twenty-nine minutes.
Ten of which they spent walking the long way around, down Bernauerstrasse and past the bäckerei. Then they doubled back behind the bombed-out apartment building. They’d all agreed that they couldn’t look hurried, or worried, or anything of the sort. In her nervous excitement, Sabine fought the urge to look up and wave at the mysterious Wolfgang — the Watcher she wouldn’t miss. But the last thing they needed was to have a Vopo stop and search them. She wondered if her bulging backpack might make Wolfgang suspicious anyway. The more she thought about it, the more she wished they hadn’t packed any bags at all. Too late now. Erich and Sabine had reached the bombed-out apartment building and found their mother in the shadows. Quickly they showed her the trapdoor and helped her climb down. Sabine looked into the pitch-dark tunnel and sighed.
“I told them no later than nine.” She looked out toward the street. “I thought for sure he would come.”
Erich held the trapdoor open and shook his head.
“I’m sorry, Sabine. But — ”
“I have to check.” Maybe if she saw Willi and his family coming, she could hurry them up. “Just another minute. Give us one more minute.”
“No, Sabine. There isn’t time!” But Sabine had already started out, and Erich didn’t want to drop the trapdoor, leaving their mother alone in the darkness below.
Sabine assumed he didn’t follow her because he didn’t want to risk making a scene on the street.
Unlike Willi, apparently — Sabine stared in surprise as she watched her friend stumble toward her, dragged along by —
“Bismarck! Come here, boy!”
Bismarck nearly bowled her down in his excitement as he showered her with sloppy dog kisses.
“Sorry we’re late.” Willi grinned all over. “We had a pretty long discussion, and — ”
“You have no idea how late we are,” she interrupted him. His parents followed at a short distance, just a couple with a new baby, out for a summer evening’s walk. “What time is it, about nine-twenty?”
“I don’t know. But the dog found me again, and — ”
“Okay, okay. We’ve got to hurry. Get your parents to hurry up. The police will be here any minute.”
“Go! Follow the tunnel, and don’t look back,” Erich whispered urgently as each person slipped through the trapdoor. He paused as Willi pulled the dog closer. “You can’t take him.”
“You know what he’s like if we try to leave him up here,” argued Willi.
Erich could only groan and shake his head. “Of course, he’ll just whine and bring the Vopo right on top of us. Fine, take him. Just hurry!”
Last to go, Sabine stopped to hug her big brother one more time. She could hardly let him go.
“Change your mind,” she whispered into his ear, burying her tears on his shoulder.
He held her close for another moment, then pushed her away.
“I’ll see you again, little sister.” His voice sounded teary too. She couldn’t see his face clearly in the darkness. But she could hear the wail of a siren getting louder and louder.
And then she felt Willi’s hands tug her through the trapdoor. Together, they raced through the darkened tunnels she knew so well. She knew every wooden brace, every curve.
“Sabine, are you coming?” her mother called back. Sabine could see her candle flicker up ahead.
“Right behind you, Mama.”
“Come on, you. Move it.” Willi poked at her. How had he gotten behind her?
“Going as fast as I can. I’m disabled, remember?”
“No, I forgot that.”
Sabine gasped for breath as she finally got to the end of the tunnel. When she reached toward the opening, strong hands reached down to help her out.
“Come!” a strange man’s voice insisted. “Follow the others, over there by the church.” Willi popped up behind her, and the stranger hauled him out of the hole.
“Thank you,” Willi said, breathing heavily. “Let’s go. I’m the last one.”
And a good thing too. They had hardly taken a step when headlights from the other side of the fence lit up the churchyard. Sabine stumbled, momentarily blinded by the light.
“Run!” she told Willi. “Leave me.”
But he pushed her crutch out of the way and circled her waist with an arm. Off they ran, a three-legged race. They heard three pops, three shots, and Sabine knew the next one would be aimed straight at them — such a slow-moving target.
But they’d made it to the right side of the fence, right? Maybe that didn’t matter. Bismarck had scrambled out of the hole and nipped at their heels. Sabine’s mother ran back to help Willi and her daughter. But Sabine had to see, she had to know what happened. She looked over her shoulder and stumbled again.
“Sabine!” her mother cried as many hands grabbed at them, pulling them behind the protection of a large gravestone. But still Sabine had to see. She leaned out beyond the headstone.
Erich stood in the stark headlight glare, alone where God had called him to stay, surrounded by a swarm of Vopos leveling machine guns at him. What could he do but raise his arms in surrender? Sabine leaned closer, as if that would take her to her brother. But her mother held her back.
Jesus! she prayed silently. Please keep him safe!
They could only watch in fear from their little foothold in freedom. A policeman grabbed Erich from behind and forced him to his knees. Yet Erich held up his free hand and waved at his family.
“Oh, Erich.” Sabine couldn’t turn away as the Vopos dragged him off.
And then she stood with her friends and mother on the free side of the wall, and they hugged one another in a tearful celebration. One that had cost them too much.
“Welcome to West Berlin,” the stranger who had helped them said. Sabine noticed for the first time that he wore a police uniform. As he led them away from the chaos of the wall, he added, “Congratulations. You’re free now.”
EPILOGUE
One of the bright spots came when an American president, John F. Kennedy, visited a divided Berlin in June 1963. He told a crowd of thousands in front of the Berlin City Hall that “when one man is enslaved, all are not free . . . [so] all free men, wherever they may live, are citizens of Berlin. And therefore, as a free man, I take pride in the words ‘Ich bin ein Berliner.’ ”
I am a Berliner.
But despite the speeches, the wall remained for many years. And just as in our story, people tried to escape from East to West in all kinds of ways. In the beginning, before the fence became a wall, they ran across or swam across one of the rivers or canals that ran through Berlin. They jumped from buildings that looked over the line. Some made it; some didn’t. Some even escaped through the sewer system and dug tunnels. In fact, one of the first tunnels actually came up through a graveyard, until a woman accidentally discovered it by falling into the hole! And one of the most successful tunnels began in a basement near the line, just like in our story. Twenty-nine people made it to freedom through that tunnel.
One of the most interesting escapes came when two families — the Wetzels and the Strelzyks — secretly built a hot-air balloon and floated to freedom.
What does this tell us? That people will do just about anything to be free. And that sometimes, out of love, people will give their all so others can have that freedom. Dietrich Mendt, an East German pastor, used to quote Psalm 18 to explain why some East German Christians stayed behind the Iron Curtain, serving their neighbors and friends. “With God,” the psalmist wrote, “one is able to leap over walls!”
These Christians didn’t think the psalm told them to just jump over the wall, though. To them, it was a little more simple. They would stay and serve, and they would work for freedom.
Because for God, there really are no walls.
QUESTIONS OR FURTHER STUDY
1. How has Sabine’s childhood disease affected her as she grew up? How did she compensate, or make up, for her physical condition?
2. In chapter four, what did Sabine’s mother say was their reason for staying in East Berlin? Do you agree or disagree with her decision? Why or why not?
3. In chapter four, Sabine gets in trouble for reading a book the government doesn’t like. Are there times when we should tell ourselves not to read or watch something? When might that be?
4. In chapter six, why was it especially hard for Sabine to visit her grandmother in the hospital? Can you think of times when you’ve been afraid to help someone else? Look up Philippians 2:3. What does the Bible say about this?
5. In chapter seven, what happened to people who wanted to escape from East Berlin to West Berlin? Why do you think they would risk their lives to do so? Would you?
6. In the beginning of chapter eight, Sabine explains why she thinks the last war happened. What was it? What do you think of what she said? Do you think her idea could still apply today — not just to wars, but to anything else?
7. When Sabine asked Willi in chapter thirteen how he liked digging, he answered with a Bible verse. Which other situations might that verse apply to, as well?
8. Why did Sabine get mad at her big brother in chapter fourteen? Do you think she was right? Why or why not?
9. In chapter sixteen, which Bible story did Sabine compare to her mother and grandmother’s situation? What changed when Sabine’s grandmother died?
10. What was Willi’s gift, and why did he give it to Sabine in chapter eighteen?
11. In chapter nineteen, why did Erich decide to stay behind? What would you have done if you were in his position?
12. Read in the “How it Really Happened” section about the Psalm often quoted by an East German pastor (Psalm 18:28 – 33). What do these verses have to do with our story?
SMUGGLER’S TREASURE
PROLOGUE
THE BRANDENBURG GATE, WEST BERLIN
JUNE 12, 1987
The American president’s words echoed over the heads of thousands of West Berliners, all crammed into the historic Brandenburgplatz, the public plaza in front of the Brandenburg Gate. And while eleven-year-old Liesl Stumpff didn’t quite understand the gathering in the huge plaza, she knew it had to be important. Why else would so many people come to hear this man speak? She cupped her hands over her ears every time the crowd clapped and cheered.
“In the Communist world, we see failure . . .”
Liesl knew he was right. Nothing seemed to work on the other side of the wall, and everyone always seemed grouchy or afraid. And strangely, that Communist world started just through the big beautiful stone arch of the Brandenburg Gate, the symbol of their divided city, Berlin.
“Even today, the Soviet Union still cannot feed itself . . .”
Neither could the Soviet Union’s puppet country, East Germany. That’s where Liesl’s Uncle Erich lived, in the apartment his grandmother, Poldi Becker, had once owned on Rheinsbergerstrasse — Rheinsberger Street. Just through the gate that divided their city, Berlin, in two.
“Do you think Onkel Erich can hear the speech from his window, too?” she wondered aloud. How could he not, with the huge loudspeakers turned toward the east?
“Maybe.” Willi Stumpff, her father, shrugged. “Or maybe from the hospital where he works.” If so, he would hear the American president declare: “ . . . Freedom is the victor!”
Was it? Liesl and her parents could briefly visit her uncle in East Berlin every three or four months. He, on the other hand, could never leave. The barbed wire, the armed guards, and the wall itself made sure of that. What kind of country had to fence its people in to keep them from escaping? Maybe she was only eleven, but she’d known things weren’t right for a long time.
The crowd cheered as the president went on. “Are these the beginnings of profound changes?”
“What does profound mean?” asked Liesl, and her father tried to explain. Big, he thought. Important. Though she didn’t quite understand all of the president’s English words, she liked his voice. Smiling and strong at the same time, like her papa. Looking up at her father, she wished she were small enough to ride on his broad shoulders. She wasn’t tall enough to see over the crowd yet.
Papa smiled at her. “Maybe they’ll show Mr. Reagan on the news tonight.”
They did, indeed, show Mr. Reagan on the news. One line especially. Over and over, until Liesl had it memorized and could deliver that part of Mr. Reagan’s speech with passion and pizzazz:
General Secretary Gorbachev, if you seek peace . . . Come here to this gate! Mr. Gorbachev, open this gate! Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!
1
KAPITEL EINS
EAST BERLIN CHECKPOINT
MARCH 1989 — NEARLY TWO YEARS LATER
Of course it’s me. Who else?
Liesl bit her lip and did her best not to look guilty as she waited for the East German Vopo border guard to check her I.D. papers.Again.
Hair: Brown. Eyes: Brown. Date of Birth: 12 März 1976. And yes, that would make her thirteen years old today.
Liesl’s mother tried to explain. “It’s my daughter’s birthday, and we’re just visiting my half brother for the occasion — ”
Frau Stumpff’s voice trailed off at the guard’s withering stare. He would surely hear Liesl’s heart beating, and he would find out everything. Surely he would find out.
“You will simply answer my questions,” he snapped, still clutching Liesl’s I.D. “Nothing more.”
“Of course.” Frau Stumpff rubbed her forehead as the guard went through their bags. A lonely fluorescent light tube flickered overhead. But it gave enough light for the guard to see the contents of their purses strewn across a pockmarked wooden table that had once been painted a
gut-wrenching shade of green. The table nearly filled the dreary interrogation room, barely leaving them enough space to move. And the guard towered over them across the table, blocking their way to the door. A Russian-made clock kept time on the bare wall.
Ten minutes slow. Liesl checked the clock against her own watch, a nice gold Junghans model Papa had given her a few days earlier, before he went to Stuttgart, again, on business. She pushed her sleeve down before the guard noticed. No telling what he might ask of them.
Liesl’s mother gave her an “I’m sorry” look. But what could they do about it?
They could ignore the grimy two-way mirror on the wall behind them. Everyone knew an inspector of some kind sat behind it watching them, waiting for them to say something that could be taken as a “crime against the East German State.”
Well, she wouldn’t give anyone that chance. The guard method ically picked through their things, thumbing through appointment books, opening up wallets. He even took the rubber tip off her mother’s crutch and looked inside. Imagine that!
And Liesl knew she would faint if the guard moved on from searching their purses to searching anything else. She prayed the small bulges in her socks and the one taped under her blouse would only make her look as if she had eaten a few too many eierkuchen — pancakes — perhaps filled with a bit too much sweet marmalade. Wouldn’t he just assume all West Berliners were fat and greedy, lazy and overfed?
Some people might think so, but only if they listened to Radio DDR Eins — the East German government broadcasts. She closed her eyes and leaned against the table.
Bitte, bitte. Please, please, get me through this, she prayed silently, biting her lip until she was sure it would start bleeding.
Was the guard leading her off in handcuffs? No. Her mother gently squeezed her elbow. “Answer the man’s question, dear.”
Liesl’s eyes snapped open. What? The guard faced her, his frown growing deeper. He held out her I.D. papers but wouldn’t give them back until she answered.
