The Race Against the Stasi
Page 14
I had an agreement with the bank. I was often away training and racing, and so my mum would go and pick up my wages if I wasn’t around at the end of the month. This time it was different, because if everything worked out I was never going to see that money. My mum didn’t know that, though, and she went and withdrew the 450 marks as normal.
UDO
Peter and I were still living in Cologne, and we saw in the press that the Olympic qualifiers were in Giessen. We knew a lot of the GDR riders and trainers, so we thought we’d make a weekend of it and drive over there. We thought it would be nice to meet some old cycling friends.
DIETER
On the Thursday morning we packed our bags in Greiz and handed them to the trainers. They put them in the cars and drove them to Erfurt, which was about 120 kilometres. We rode there, showered and had lunch as normal. After that we had free time and so I went straight to the post office. I composed a four-word telegram:
GIESSEN STATION. SATURDAY. TWO O’CLOCK.
I addressed it to ‘The Hermann Family’ as distinct to Sylvia, because that way it didn’t implicate her directly. I was lucky because the clerk at the post office should have insisted on the sender’s name but didn’t. It meant the telegram was anonymous, just as I’d hoped. It had been sent from a post office in Erfurt, but it could have been sent by anybody.
DIETER
The following morning we had to surrender our ID papers before we got on the bus. They issued us with our travel permits,56 but when I looked at mine it said that I was married. I spoke with Günter Hoffmann and Immo Rittmeyer because they were single as well, and theirs also stated that they were married. I couldn’t understand it at first, but then it started to dawn on me.
Any GDR citizen could claim asylum in the west, and be granted the same rights as everybody else. However, there was no way I was ever going to be granted a divorce. So in practical terms it meant that I would never be able to marry Sylvia, and we wouldn’t be able to get a place together.
I was incensed that they’d do something like that, but it wasn’t going to stop me trying. In fact, if anything it just strengthened my resolve.
When we got on the bus it was already half full. By the time we set off there were probably about fifty people altogether, but only seventeen of us were cyclists. The mechanic, officials and journalists travelled by car, and I’d no idea who the others were. I’d never seen them before in my life, and it wasn’t like GDR citizens could just hop on the bus and slip across the border for a weekend.
They weren’t cycling people, and they certainly weren’t going to Giessen for sightseeing. They were obviously on that bus for a reason, though, so there was only one logical conclusion. We had our seats at the front of the bus, they had theirs behind, and there was no contact between us.
It was common knowledge that they shot people at the wall itself, even though they didn’t publish it in the papers. Those people simply ‘disappeared’, but the Stasi made out that they were traitors who’d escaped and never been heard from again. They had no legal jurisdiction in the west, but you heard all sorts of stories. So I was pretty sure I knew who the people on the bus were, but I didn’t know what their orders were or to what lengths they were prepared to go.
DIETER
I can’t describe the feeling of release when we crossed the border. I’d felt like I was suffocating, but suddenly I could breathe again. I wasn’t euphoric because I knew that I wasn’t free yet, but I’d cleared a big hurdle.
I was in the same country as Sylvia, but I wasn’t some starry-eyed teenager thinking I’d made it. The situation was still dangerous, and I assumed the people on the bus would be watching our every move. In my mind I’d worked it all out quite methodically, and I was determined to see it through. I reminded myself that I’d to keep my wits about me, and that I still needed to get to the station.
DIETER
As we pulled into the hotel I saw a sign for the station. When we got there I knew it had to be close by because we were staying on the corner of Bahnhofstrasse.
The point about my having specified two o’clock on the telegram was that it was basically an educated guess. On days like these our routine was pretty much set in stone. We would train in the morning, have lunch about one o’clock, and then have a couple of hours free. After that there would be a meeting, dinner, and to bed.
So in the normal course of events two o’clock would have been free time for me, but this was anything but normal. It wasn’t every day that you travelled to the west with a bus full of Stasi.
Anyway we went off to our rooms, and again I was sharing with Immo Rittmeyer. That evening we all went to the cinema; the riders, officials and the people on the bus. The following morning we rode the course. I remember thinking that it was a nice rolling circuit, but then realising it made no difference to me because I wouldn’t be riding it anyway. When we got back there was a panic because one of the guys had a problem with his bike. They didn’t have any replacement parts, so they had to send someone to the border to get some.
DIETER
Giessen is a spa town and it was holiday time, so the hotel reception was always crowded. After lunch we were sitting in the hotel lobby, and the guy at reception asked me if I’d been given my telegram. I said I hadn’t, and he said that he’d had to give it to one of the officials because the federation hadn’t given the hotel a rooming list. He therefore didn’t know which room I was in, so hadn’t been able to have it delivered to the room. I spoke with the general secretary about it, a guy named Scholz. He handed me a telegram, but it had been opened. I said, ‘Why has it been opened?’, but he made light of it and said it wasn’t important. I said it was important to me that my telegram had been opened. He said, ‘Look, it’s just a telegram from your parents wishing you luck for the race. There’s nothing for you to worry about.’
Later on Täve had a visit from a guy called Horst Gaede. He was from Magdeburg and he’d ridden the Peace Race in 1952, but then he’d gone over to the west before they built the wall. He turned up in a big American car, and you could tell he was trying to impress Täve. When he went everyone started joking that it wasn’t his car at all, that he’d just hired it for the day to show off.
DIETER
The officials told us that they had a meeting with the FRG delegation after lunch, and that we’d be free to come and go as we pleased for two hours. So they’d followed protocol, and it dawned on me that if Sylvia turned up I was about to walk out of my life and into a new one.
I didn’t doubt for one minute that if she came I was going to go through with it, no. I was sure I was going, but I didn’t know whether I’d find Sylvia waiting for me at the station, or the Stasi.
It was hot, and it was about a ten-minute walk to the station. I set off from the hotel and crossed the road, trying to act like a normal person. I stopped to look in shop windows along the way. The problem was that I didn’t know whether one or more of the people on the bus were following me, so my heart was racing. In those situations your instinct is to look over your shoulder to check, but I didn’t want to seem furtive because that would have given them a sign.
I didn’t know for sure that Sylvia would be there, and even if she were I couldn’t be sure she was prepared to go through with it. I was thinking, ‘This is like a dream’, but then I told myself that it wasn’t. I was frightened, but I tried to stay as calm as possible and get to the station.
DIETER
When I got there she was waiting with her mum, dad and brother. Their car was parked in front of the station but I told them it was best if we moved away from it. I didn’t know what was going to happen, and I wanted to have the station behind me so I could keep my eye on what was happening around me. Then it made sense not to stand next to the car anyway, because I didn’t want whoever had followed me to make a note of the registration number.
I’d never met her dad before, so first of all I introduced myself to him. Then I told them that I loved Sylvia, that I wan
ted to be with her and to stay in the west. She said she wanted to go through with it as well, and we started talking about how we could do it. I asked her dad if it would be possible for me to live at their house until I got a job and a place of my own, and he said it would be fine. In retrospect that was quite a brave thing to do, because none of us had any idea of would happen next.
So everything was agreed, and my mind was made up. Of course with the adrenaline your instinct is to get in the car and get out of there as quickly as possible, but I didn’t. What I actually did was to turn round and walk straight back to the hotel.
DIETER
Why did I go back to the hotel? I suppose it might seem strange, but to me it made perfect sense.
I’d had months to think about what would happen, so I’d considered just about every possible scenario. I’d thought about doing the race as normal but riding through the finish line until I saw the car. Then I’d jump into it and we would go. That was just too risky, though, and so I’d scrapped the idea. The second idea had been to climb off during the race itself, and escape. That way I’d have been able to keep my bike, but it was very unlikely that nobody would see me. The other thing was that it would have made a mockery of the race, and I didn’t want that. It would have been unfair for the other riders, and it would have created a big story. That was the last thing I needed, so I discounted it.
So I knew I had to go now, but I didn’t know whether somebody from the bus was watching me, or whether somebody else from the Stasi was following. Had they been, and had I got in the car there and then, it would have been easy for them to come after us. I couldn’t know whether they would, but they’d know exactly what had happened and where to find me.
So the thinking behind going back to the hotel was twofold. First, had the Stasi been watching me, they’d see me go back and assume that everything was in order. I’d simply gone for a walk, chatted to some people and then headed back to the hotel. Therefore logic would have suggested that I’d no interest in defecting – otherwise I’d have done it at the station – so they needn’t concern themselves with watching me any more.
The other thing was that I wanted my bike. I had no idea what was waiting for me in the west, and no money to buy a new one. I knew nothing about life over there, but I knew that the bike would give me a chance to race and to make a living. Then I needed to get my travel permit. It had been falsified, but I figured it was better than nothing. At least it had my name on it.
So I told them that I’d be back before three o’clock, but that if I didn’t make it they weren’t to wait. They should assume something had gone wrong and forget about it.
DIETER
I walked back to the hotel and went up to the room. I assumed that Immo wouldn’t be there, because normally when there was free time everyone tended to stay together. Thankfully he wasn’t, so I picked up the document and my wallet, and got changed into my cycling shoes and a training jacket. Then I went downstairs to the hotel garage.
The mechanic was there working on the bikes, and he was a good friend of my dad. I told him I wanted to roll around for an hour, just to turn my legs over a bit. He gave me my bike, and I just rode off.
When I got back I climbed off the bike, took the wheels off, and we put it into the boot. They put a hat and sunglasses on me, and we went. I’d made it, and I’d managed to keep hold of my bike. I remember that I felt like I was in a movie.
DIETER
People have subsequently told me that all I needed to do was to ask a policeman. They said I should have just walked up, told him what was happening and asked for help. I’d spent all those hours planning it, thinking about it and worrying about it, and in reality it would have been perfectly simple.
The fact is that asking a policeman hadn’t even occurred to me. I’d spent my life in the GDR, and so I was deeply distrustful of them. In fact, a policeman was probably the last person I’d have considered asking for help.
SYLVIA
My grandparents lived in Mainzlar, a village ten kilometres from Giessen. We thought it would be a good place to hide Dieter, and so we told them what was happening. We said we didn’t want to risk taking Dieter home in case they came after him, but they only had a small house so there wasn’t room for everyone. There was also the chance that the Stasi would know where they lived, so we decided that me, my mum and dad would stay there without Dieter. My grandfather told us about a hotel at Lollar, the next town, and so that’s where we went. We dropped Dieter and my brother off there, and that’s where they spent the night. It was like being in a movie.
DIETER
The hotel in Lollar seemed a good choice for all sorts of reasons. I assumed they knew where Sylvia lived, so it made no sense to go there straight away. Had they done their homework they would have known that she had family in Mainzlar, so they would probably have gone to look there as well. If they found Sylvia there with her parents then so much the better, because it would follow that she was just visiting her grandparents while waiting for the race the following day.
IMMO
Well, he didn’t come down for dinner, so it was clear that something had gone wrong. Because he and I roomed together the officials assumed I’d known, and so did Weisbrod, the trainer. They asked me what I knew, but I said we’d gone our separate ways at lunchtime and I hadn’t seen him. I didn’t know anything, and I didn’t ask anything. I always kept my mouth shut because that was the safest thing to do.
They didn’t have any cars, so the chaperons borrowed a couple and went looking for him.
MANFRED
When it came to the evening meal and he still hadn’t turned up you knew something had happened. Wiedemann was such a quiet guy that he was the last person you’d expect to defect. They might have expected someone like me to do it, someone who was critical, but never him. A load of us went out looking for him on our bikes, but we were assuming something had happened to him, that he’d had an accident.
The initial reaction was one of panic really, but when it became apparent he wasn’t coming back it was suppressed. Nobody said, ‘This guy has defected’, and it was as if they wanted to forget about it and just get the race done. The thinking seemed to be that if they pretended it had never happened it would be less disruptive for the rest of the team, and less embarrassing as regards propaganda. They didn’t so much make light of it as wish it away altogether, but you knew there would be consequences later on.
IMMO
The race started very early, because it had to be finished before church. It was pretty disastrous for the team as a whole, but great for me personally. It was windy, and the West Germans formed an echelon. Our guys weren’t paying attention and so a gap opened. I was the only GDR rider who saw what was happening, so I was fine. On the last lap a guy named Gottschalk attacked, but I was really strong that day so I went with him. I beat him quite easily in the sprint.
There was no ceremony after the race, so I just rode back to the hotel with Gottschalk. It was implicit that there was to be no contact between ourselves and the FRG riders, but what can you do? I couldn’t really tell him to get lost, and anyway it was just chatting away about this and that. Afterwards I got into trouble because I’d broken the rules in speaking with him. They were worried that we’d be coerced into defecting.
DIETER
Lollar was inside the race circuit, and I figured that would be the last place they’d search. So Roland and I stayed in the hotel until after the race finished. The following day Sylvia and her parents came to get us and I went ‘home’ to Mitterteich with Sylvia and the family.
I wanted to send a telegram to my mum and dad, but we figured it would be best if it didn’t come from Mitterteich. We sent it from Tirschenreuth instead, fifteen kilometres away.
1 Rudolf Breitscheid was a social democrat politician and German patriot. He fled to France when Hitler came to power, but was interned first at Sachsenhausen and later at Buchenwald. He perished at Buchenwald in 1944, many believe murdered by
an SS guard. The Nazis claimed he had died in a bombing raid.
2 None of the four powers came remotely close to satisfying the specified 2,000 daily calories in post-war Germany. The American Zone came closest, at 1,330 calories, the Russians next, at 1,083. In the British Zone the average was 1,050, while adults in the French Zone were surviving – or not – on just 900 calories a day. The figures are illusory in the sense that the Russian Zone was largely agrarian, while the British Zone, for example, encompassed the crippled industrial heartlands of the Rhine and Ruhr. Devastated France, its own population subject to chronic shortages, struggled to reconcile the idea that it might be obliged to send aid to Germany.
3 The 1948 races each began on 1 May. Warsaw–Prague was run over five stages and 872 kilometres. It was won by the Yugoslav August Prosinek. The Prague–Warsaw race, won by Aleksander Zoric, featured eight stages and 1,104 kilometres.
4 The English teams’ involvement was used to underscore the inclusive nature of the race. The subtext was that, notwithstanding the intransigence of their capitalist governments, enlightened western athletes understood that communism was winning the argument.
5 Though he was competing for England, Steel was actually a Glaswegian. Team-mate Ian Greenfield came from Edinburgh, while Bev Wood, Ken Jowett, Les Scales and Frank Seal were all from south of the border.