The Odyssey of a U-Boat Commander

by Erich Topp

  The military ceremonies of that day were tied in with the local Azalea Festival, so named after the hundreds of many-colored flowers that beautified a local park. Inside the park was an artificial pond and next to it stands that could accommodate thousands of spectators. On the other side of the pond, on a little hill and under bright skies, the coronation ceremony of the Azalea Queen and her court was under way. The contestants were young ladies supplied by the embassies or military missions of the various NATO countries. On that day our daughter Maren represented the Federal Republic of Germany. The jury gave first place to the daughter of Lyndon Johnson, the Vice President of the United States. This decision seemed to confirm the leadership claim of the United States as much as the sense of tradition inherent in the American nation.

  Lyndon Johnson sat one row ahead of us as an especially honored guest. Before the ceremonies started he strolled leisurely through the groups of assembled NATO representatives and also greeted their wives. When he got to my wife he asked her how she liked her stay in the United States. She mentioned among other things that our other daughter had just married an American. This led to a longer conversation about our extended family, some of whom lived in Austin, Texas. One of them happened to be Louis Southerland, President of the Association of American Architects. Johnson cut in: "He is my neighbor. Please say hello to Uncle Louis." Ever since that conversation, which many others overheard, my wife has been called "Johnson Baby."

  April 15, 1959

  A visit to Norfolk by the German Defense Minister, Franz-Josef Strauss. I accompanied him to SACLANT. During the flight he was busy catching up on various press reports and dealing with matters of public relations. Five minutes before we were scheduled to land in Norfolk he asked me to brief him about the situation at SACLANT. That seemed a rather short preparation to me. After we arrived he had a meeting with Admiral Wright. Afterwards he gave a press conference in which he stressed a number of points very well.

  Later that evening in Washington we officers met at the house of Wolf Dietrich von Schleinitz, the military attache, to have an informal talk with our defense minister. For about ten minutes I had the opportunity to discuss with him the structure of the Baltic Command and the question of strategic mobility. Then things got heated when Strauss accused Krapf that his visit had not been properly prepared. He compared his own impressions to reports about the visit by Willy Brandt, then mayor of West Berlin, who had come to the United States a short while before and whose activities had been very well planned. Strauss became very aggressive indeed. Since it is known that he did not hesitate to speak his mind, one word led to another. Krapf responded to the accusation in a correct and factual manner while Strauss remained emotional, egged on by his entourage who always took his side. Finally a general stood up and told Strauss: "Herr Minister, these Byzantine arrangements surrounding you make me sick." He then turned around and left the room. Unfortunately, in all the sound and fury of the ongoing discussion between the two contestants and their respective cliques, this example of living one's convictions went unnoticed.

  April 20 to May 10, 1959

  On vacation in Mexico. I had to think of my midshipman cruise on the Karlsruhe and our trip from Acapulco to Mexico City, where I had stayed with the Ku- gelgens. I phoned Mrs. von Kugelgen upon our arrival. She immediately recalled those days and invited us to visit her.

  Her husband, who had been a medical doctor, had died following a riding accident. She herself struck us as a ruling duchess with her tall, elegant appearance and her white hair. Still a center of Mexican society at the time, she told us of her family's fate during and after the war. Then she introduced us to an architect by the name of von Wutenau, formerly in the German diplomatic service and a consul in New Orleans. He had quarrelled with the Nazis, resigned from the foreign service, and gone to Mexico. At first, based on a superficial training in archaeology, he had found work in conserving old art objects and had taught himself the basic principles of architecture. When we met him he had risen to be one of Mexico City's leading architects, building the most magnificent houses in the old colonial style for the well-to-do. His outward appearance was very modest, almost grotesque. His car was held together by a piece of rope even though he could easily afford a more comfortable lifestyle given his considerable income. Fascinated by the ancient civilization of the Aztecs, he had participated in numerous excavations, especially on the west coast, and owned exquisite ceramic sculptures that were once part of the Aztec culture.

  He showed us a treasure of some 300 so-called Idolos, small heads sculpted from clay that had likely been used as votive gifts at the sacrificial sites. He saw in them traces of all human races. Since the finds came from a period about 1,000 years prior to the colonial era, he was advocating a theory of convergence under which Mexico in earlier times had been a melting pot of many different races. He believed, for example, that already in those early times whites, Indonesians, Indians, Chinese, and even Negroid people had lived on Mexican soil. Listening to him was exciting, especially since he had the gift to project his own fascination with that theory onto others. His views, which he also presented to the public, have never been accepted by the scientific community.

  On a trip to Guernavaca with its famous frescoes by Rivera and its tropical character, we passed through Taxco, a city centered around old silver mines. Built picturesquely against the backdrop of a mountain, the city survives today as a main attraction for American tourists, condescendingly called gringos, even though they are crucial to Mexico's economy. In Taxco we met Wutenau again, this time as the owner and inhabitant of the so-called Humboldt House, an old patrician building where Alexander von Humboldt had lived for a while and where today are stored pictures and manuscripts by him.

  About a year later we made a second trip to Mexico. We spent two weeks in the old Aztec resort town of Ixtapa with its radioactive thermal baths. It was a funny feeling to look across the dark fluid at the talking heads of the other bathers, among them many Jews from Mexico City. At first they kept their distance from us. Later, when they realized that we did not match their stereotypes of "Nazi Germans," we got along quite well, and from those encounters developed our friendship with Sari Brimmer.

  Sari Brimmer was born in Vienna, had lost a part of her family, and had built up a new life for herself in Mexico. She had a daughter, Gaby, who had been paralyzed through cerebral palsy since she was two years old. In the beginning Gaby could neither talk nor move. Everything was done to improve the child's prospects under the given circumstances. Thanks to the life-long devotion of a local Indian girl, and after attending specialized schools, she managed after a while to understand five different languages. She learned to type on a custom-built typewriter by using her toes, the only parts of her body she could move. Thus she could communicate with others from her wheelchair. She was an individual of high intelligence, great beauty, and remarkable charisma.

  Sari Brimmer had heard of good homes for the handicapped in Switzerland, in England, and in West Germany that would accept such chil dren and provide well for them. I thereupon contacted an architect with whom I had once worked in Hanover and who belonged to the anthroposophical movement. I asked him whether he could recommend a suitable place. He responded immediately, and I informed Mrs. Brimmer accordingly. This is what she wrote back:

  I am driving out to the camp that specializes in spastic children and is directed by Mrs. Sahlmann, a German pediatrician. Over the course of twenty-one years these people have put together a whole village. You can reserve a place for your adolescent children by contributing to a trust fund. My sister, Dr. Betty Modley, will come with me because I am not sure that I am emotionally strong enough to handle the encounter.

  Later I will be flying to Israel-the land of my fathers-as I have been taught. I fear daily about the continued existence of this piece of earth that was and remains a refuge for the persecuted and desperate among my people. Well, we will stick to it because it was the basis of our existence to r
emind our children again and again to respect their fellow human beings as a guarantee for peace. That is the only way for me, the way of the mother. Won't you agree, Frau Ilse?

  In 1988 we were reminded once more of Sari Brimmer. The movie, Gaby, showed the fate of her daughter who in the meantime has developed so far that she writes newspaper columns and books. She even wrote the script for the film about her life. The movie, an artistic masterpiece, chronicles her handicapped life in all its details and brings out her passionate yearning for a normal life that she will never enjoy. When Helen Keller, who as a blind person had written a number of worldfamous books, was once asked what she thought about death, she said: "I will walk through a tall gate-and I will be able to see." I wish Gaby Brimmer has faith in a similar vision.

  Besides enjoying these fleeting encounters and experiences in Washington I also endeavored, given my access to all kinds of information, to explore the surface and background of American political life and to convey my impressions to those in Germany who seemed interested in knowing about them.

  Most of my activities had to do with military matters. Political decisions are dependent on the mentality of the people who make them. Americans are a mixture of many races; their mentality flows from many sources. It is complex, difficult to define, and America's political experience therefore is not without contradictions. I will try carefully to describe and explain this complex fabric of philosophical, historical, and traditional factors.

  Their frontier experience gave Americans a clear sense for the real. Their pragmatism is perhaps best expressed in the saying, "Truth is what works." The roots of this attitude may lie in Calvin's puritanism, but it is a secularized, enlightened version of it. Truth defined as success presupposes experimenting, keeping statistics, methods of ascertaining public opinion, and an imperturbable faith in freedom and democracy. This philosophy has resulted in great accomplishments, not least the equality of all before the law regardless of race or national origin. Social barriers have been torn down and a common "American way of life" has taken over. Democracy seems to have something doctrinaire about it. Americans apply the principles and liberties spelled out in their constitution not only to themselves but assume that their social and political experiences should and can work just as well for other societies without bothering to analyze whether such a wholesale transfer is justified or desirable. The God-given conviction, the manifest destiny for the American people to spread out westward across the continent, found its climax on August 29, 1959, when Hawaii joined the union as its fiftieth state. America offers a place to live for everyone, opportunities for everyone, chances to succeed to everyone. Something of the nineteenth-century belief in "God's own country" I could still sense when I became familiar with the land and its people between 1958 and 1962.

  I experienced this uniquely American way of doing things when the Standing Group invited us staff officers of the national representatives to visit the Strategic Air Command (SAC), the North American Air Defense Command (NORAD), the Air Force Academy, and also one of SAC's air bases. At the Air Force Academy, "Truth is what works" meant the selection and training of a group of young men to become a part of a precisely functioning mechanism within the pluralism of a rich democratic society with the goal of molding it into a reliable instrument of American policy. Set against the majestic scenery of Colorado's snow-covered mountains, the buildings of the academy betray their function in their very architectural design: constructive, matter-of-fact, no luxurious decorations, no sentimentality, no idyllic illusions.

  Every year some 712 freshmen begin their four-year course of instruction. In their first year the young cadets move around on the double; in the mess hall they sit on the edge of their seats. The daily routine is hard, but the drill does not discriminate. These young men learn that discipline and asceticism will one day enable them to act as an elite. This feeling of belonging to an elite is underscored by the finest instructional resources. The library's periodicals section contains some 100 different journals, 50 daily U.S. newspapers and 26 international papers, among them from Germany the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung and Die Welt. There are excellent facilities for social activities, including an auditorium that seats 3,000 people, its acoustics so well designed that there is no need for loudspeakers. No more than twelve men belong to a group, supervised by the best instructors. The well-lit and comfortably furnished rooms are each shared by two men. The library contains some 200,000 volumes.

  The huge dining hall can accommodate 3,000 cadets simultaneously, another remarkable demonstration of the desire to foster a sense of equality. Should one of the cadets fall ill, he can follow his lessons from his room by way of closed-circuit television and an intercom. There are no opportunities for a private life outside the compound, say in cabarets or bars. All social life occurs in the same clean and bright rooms of the academy. One of the academy's objectives is "to develop in its cadets the highest form of discipline-that self-discipline which enables a man to see his responsibilities and to carry them out without compulsion."

  The tasks these cadets would later have to take care of were demonstrated to us at SAC, at NORAD, and at Whiteman Air Force Base. The mission of SAC is clear, "to conduct strategic air warfare on a global basis, to deter war. Should deterrence fail, S.A.C.'s objectives then become to destroy the aggressor's will and capability to wage war." To achieve these objectives at all times, SAC has at its disposal some 1,500 B 47s; 500 B 52s; several B 58s; a sizable air refueling capacity; and missiles. Brigadier General Huglin demonstrated for us how SAC maintained constant communications among all its bases and also with the President of the United States no matter where he might be at any given moment. We were very impressed by the huge Operational Control Center. It functions with the assurance of a mathematical formula. Here are no hypotheses, no principles; just the maxim, "Truth is what works."

  NORAD is in charge of air defenses in cooperation with Canada. It is a joint command. The system of powerful radar stations, the DEW Line, and the CAN Forward Scatter Line cover all of North America and extend westward to the Aleutians and eastward to the Azores. Four or five aircraft are constantly airborne; elsewhere the Navy operates radar pickets. If the stations pick up a target that is identified as hostile, the latter is attacked and destroyed. The process goes through four phases: detection, identification, attack, destroy. All attacks are carried out locally but are initiated and controlled centrally. Given modern technologies, especially early warning signs, the North American continent is barely large enough to react in time to an attack.

  The last link in the chain was our visit to SAC's Whiteman Air Force Base. Here precise planning and solid training combine to make decisive action possible. Eight days of highest alert are followed by routine training for the balance of the month. During the eight days everyone is in a state of readiness, and each alarm is a full alarm. Only when the aircraft is airborne does the pilot learn through code words how far the mission is to be carried out. Wherever the crew happens to be, it must be ready at a moment's notice. Cars stand by to take the men to their planes on a specially marked road. The aircraft are ready to go; the first one is mov ing down the runway eight minutes after the alarm is sounded. As if on a parade ground, the remaining planes follow with amazing precision. This is the pinnacle of what can be achieved in terms of organization while always keeping in mind that no one is perfect.

  All talks about NATO's strategic concept, not excluding those held during our tour of SAC, necessarily focused on the subject of our nuclear potential and its credibility in terms of effective deterrence. In this sense deterrence is not threatening the other side with a war that one is neither willing nor able to wage oneself. Rather, deterrence means the defender's ability to force a potential aggressor into a kind of war that he cannot or will not wage because either his own losses are likely to be unacceptable or his chances for victory too small. Thus, deterrence boils down to a mixture of known facts, clever misinformation, and the psychological pr
econditioning of the adversary. Together these factors are designed to impress a potential aggressor and to reassure one's own side.

  As long as the strategy of deterrence is in place, it is impossible to put one's own cards on the table in order not to lose the game from the beginning. There is no public announcement of possible scenarios, just as it was unthinkable in the past that one of the parties involved would make its operational plans known to the enemy. One is led to believe that many of the theories published on both sides today are merely designed to keep the enemy guessing. Any discussion about security questions and disarmament must take into account the potential enemy's psychological response. Ever since NATO was founded, and as numerous publications make clear, there have been many different opinions about our desirable strategy. While this kind of shadow-boxing is likely to continue, we should be mindful of the fact that at the present time our security depends in the last analysis on the functioning of a chain of risks that extends from the front lines to the nerve center of the alliance at the Strategic Air Command in the United States.

  In my eyes the Berlin Crisis of 1961 proved how this chain of risks functioned in practice. Already in November 1958 Khrushchev had initiated this crisis over Berlin in a speech given in the Sports Palace in Moscow. The speech was followed up by an official note in which the Soviet Union denied the western Allies their continued right to occupy Berlin and demanded their withdrawal from the city in an ultimatum. The Soviets threatened to transfer their occupation rights to the East German government and thereby forced the West to adopt one of three alternatives: to cave in to the Soviet demand; to resist it by force; or to negotiate with the as yet unrecognized East German state. The city of Berlin, the catalyst for all hopes of a reunified Germany, was to become an independent political unit-which, given geopolitical necessities, would sooner or later end up as Moscow's satellite.