Post by Paul Sylvain on Nov 9, 2009 20:50:49 GMT -5
The Berlin Wall came down ...
I apologize for the length, but ....
I wasn't in Berlin in 1989, but I was stationed in then-West Berlin from 1969-1973. If someone would have told me the Wall would come down in my lifetime, I'd have said they were nuts. By 1989, several generations of Berliners had been born and had grown up in the shadow of "The Wall" without knowing what life was before it. Of course, when I arrived in 1969, it had only been a handful or years since it had been erected.
During my time in Berlin, there was none of the graffiti that covered The Wall in 1989. At the time (1969 -1973) there were 3.5-million people living in West Berlin. It was a hige city, with forested areas and expansive lakes and rivers. You did not "bump into" the Wall unless you went looking for it.
West Berlin was truly an "Island City", situated 110 miles INSIDE East Germany and away from "The Zone", or West Germany. We had all these contingency plans for "what if the Russians ... " but I had my own theory about what would happen if the Russians made a move to seize West Berlin. I figured the Russians would never waste a shot or military resources on a city cut off from the rest of the world like we were. They would have just dropped the gates at places like Checkpoint Charlie and Bravo, and hung a big POW (Prisoner of War) sign up. They already had the barbed wire, fencing, landmines, vehicle traps, guard dogs, "Death Strip", guard towers ... you name it ... in place.
Walking along the Wall was an experience I won't forget. West Berlin was a lively city, with the excitement and energy of New York City. But as you got near the wall, it was silence. Dead silent. Just the wind whistling by your ears. Very eerie. The Brandenburg Gate was actually just inside East Berlin, so the Wall skirted around it. By the gate was a huge, ugly sign proclaiming how many East Berliners had been killed trying to escape to West Berlin. When I left in 1973, the sign boasted "84 tote", or 84 killed. By 1989, it was closer to 200.
And as you walked along the Wall, you'd encounter markers, sort of like those crosses you see nowadays along the highways here. There'd be a photo and a little write-up about some soul killed near that spot, just feet away, on "the other side" of the wall, trying to escape.
While there, a couple of East Berliners made a futile attempt to cross the "Death Strip" near Potsdammer Platz, as tourists stood on platforms on the West Berlin side, peering into East Berlin. It didn't matter, as the East German guards opened fire on the would-be escapees, sending bullets whizzing past the folks on the platforms. Both men were cut down, one, just as he reached the Wall on the East side. The guy further from the Wall was killed instantly, while the other guy, who made it to the Wall, fell back, wounded and bleeding. Onlookers on the West could do nothing but watch in horror, as a truck with East German guards drove up, then parked there, standing near the wounded man, joking and smoking cigarettes, as he writhed in pain, crying out for help ... for several hours ... until he finally bled out and died. That's when they threw him onto the truck and drove away.
Such was the reality of life behind The Wall during the so-called "Cold War." I did not witness the above scene, but was way too close for another.
One night, my first wife and I decided to take a drive around West Berlin. We drove out toward the British Sector (Berlin was divided into four sectors -- U.S., British, French and Russian). It was just getting dark when we switched off the main road leading eventually out of Berlin toward Hamburg. We stayed in West Berlin, and followed a remote country road that was bordered by farmland on the left and a high, barbed wire-topped fence on the right. The fence marked the border between West Berlin and East Germany, and every so often we passed the guard towers on the East side. The Russians and East Germans always posted two guards in each tower. One was to watch the other. If one tried to escape, the other was under orders to shoot and kill him.
As we drove, it turned dark. There was nothing out there but us in my car. No houses, Nothing. At one point, flares suddenly went off, and the sound of gunfire rang out -- it sounded like they were shooting at my car, it was that close and loud. I hit the gas and sped the hell out of there. The next day, Armed Forces Radio reported that three men were shot and killed trying to escape East Germany, perhaps 50-100 yards behind where my car was when the flares and shots went off.
I spent the entire four years in Berlin, and did not return to the States on leave or otherwise until my tour was up. It was a great city -- saw lots of concerts and such, went to England a couple of times, and so on. But I also learned to appreciate how important the freedom we so often take for granted here really is. People died there, and fairly regularly, in the name of freedom. To them, their lives were worth sacrificing in the hope of escaping to Freedom in the West. Many people did make it to Freedom, but many more died trying.
The Wall divided families in ways you can't imagine. I went to Brandenburg gate several times and stood on the platforms looking into the East. I saw West Berliners, standing on the platforms, waving at loved ones, hundreds of yards away on the East side. It was as close as they could get to each other.
I knew a young musician -- a talented keyboardist who toured in the backup band for some huge British solo artist of the day. Mike lived two doors down from the Wall, which actually cut off the end of his street. I asked about his father once and he told me his dad had been a biggie in the East Berlin government. He said his dad obviously knew about plans for The Wall but did not share them with his family. On the night the Wall began going up, his dad chose to stay in East Berlin and work with the government. His family were left to fend for themselves in West Berlin. Mike told me flatly that if he ever saw his father, he would kill him.
I knew a military family who was in Berlin before, during and after the Wall was built. They had friends who lived in the Russian Sector, in what would become East Berlin. They went out one night, ate, danced, drank, had a great time. The American couple invited their friends to stay overnight with them in the U.S. Sector, but the German couple said they had to get back.
The Wall went up that night, and the German friends never got out again.
I did get into East Berlin several times. We could go there, with something called "Flag Orders". It was strange going through Checkpoint Charlie, and seeing the barriers and so on from that side. I was always happy to get back to the West.
I haven't been back to Berlin since I left in March 1973, although I keep promising myself I would like to one day. I spent four years of my life there, in the Divided City. Maybe I just need to see what it's like now, with the Wall gone.
With Veteran's Day coming Wednesday, I hope y'all will take time to remember the veterans who served in Communist hot spots, like Berlin, during the Cold War years. Many folks died serving their country in these places, to be sure. In Berlin alone, many aircrews died in crashes in support of flying food, clothes, and supplies into Berlin during the Berlin Airlift, for example.
Paul
I apologize for the length, but ....
I wasn't in Berlin in 1989, but I was stationed in then-West Berlin from 1969-1973. If someone would have told me the Wall would come down in my lifetime, I'd have said they were nuts. By 1989, several generations of Berliners had been born and had grown up in the shadow of "The Wall" without knowing what life was before it. Of course, when I arrived in 1969, it had only been a handful or years since it had been erected.
During my time in Berlin, there was none of the graffiti that covered The Wall in 1989. At the time (1969 -1973) there were 3.5-million people living in West Berlin. It was a hige city, with forested areas and expansive lakes and rivers. You did not "bump into" the Wall unless you went looking for it.
West Berlin was truly an "Island City", situated 110 miles INSIDE East Germany and away from "The Zone", or West Germany. We had all these contingency plans for "what if the Russians ... " but I had my own theory about what would happen if the Russians made a move to seize West Berlin. I figured the Russians would never waste a shot or military resources on a city cut off from the rest of the world like we were. They would have just dropped the gates at places like Checkpoint Charlie and Bravo, and hung a big POW (Prisoner of War) sign up. They already had the barbed wire, fencing, landmines, vehicle traps, guard dogs, "Death Strip", guard towers ... you name it ... in place.
Walking along the Wall was an experience I won't forget. West Berlin was a lively city, with the excitement and energy of New York City. But as you got near the wall, it was silence. Dead silent. Just the wind whistling by your ears. Very eerie. The Brandenburg Gate was actually just inside East Berlin, so the Wall skirted around it. By the gate was a huge, ugly sign proclaiming how many East Berliners had been killed trying to escape to West Berlin. When I left in 1973, the sign boasted "84 tote", or 84 killed. By 1989, it was closer to 200.
And as you walked along the Wall, you'd encounter markers, sort of like those crosses you see nowadays along the highways here. There'd be a photo and a little write-up about some soul killed near that spot, just feet away, on "the other side" of the wall, trying to escape.
While there, a couple of East Berliners made a futile attempt to cross the "Death Strip" near Potsdammer Platz, as tourists stood on platforms on the West Berlin side, peering into East Berlin. It didn't matter, as the East German guards opened fire on the would-be escapees, sending bullets whizzing past the folks on the platforms. Both men were cut down, one, just as he reached the Wall on the East side. The guy further from the Wall was killed instantly, while the other guy, who made it to the Wall, fell back, wounded and bleeding. Onlookers on the West could do nothing but watch in horror, as a truck with East German guards drove up, then parked there, standing near the wounded man, joking and smoking cigarettes, as he writhed in pain, crying out for help ... for several hours ... until he finally bled out and died. That's when they threw him onto the truck and drove away.
Such was the reality of life behind The Wall during the so-called "Cold War." I did not witness the above scene, but was way too close for another.
One night, my first wife and I decided to take a drive around West Berlin. We drove out toward the British Sector (Berlin was divided into four sectors -- U.S., British, French and Russian). It was just getting dark when we switched off the main road leading eventually out of Berlin toward Hamburg. We stayed in West Berlin, and followed a remote country road that was bordered by farmland on the left and a high, barbed wire-topped fence on the right. The fence marked the border between West Berlin and East Germany, and every so often we passed the guard towers on the East side. The Russians and East Germans always posted two guards in each tower. One was to watch the other. If one tried to escape, the other was under orders to shoot and kill him.
As we drove, it turned dark. There was nothing out there but us in my car. No houses, Nothing. At one point, flares suddenly went off, and the sound of gunfire rang out -- it sounded like they were shooting at my car, it was that close and loud. I hit the gas and sped the hell out of there. The next day, Armed Forces Radio reported that three men were shot and killed trying to escape East Germany, perhaps 50-100 yards behind where my car was when the flares and shots went off.
I spent the entire four years in Berlin, and did not return to the States on leave or otherwise until my tour was up. It was a great city -- saw lots of concerts and such, went to England a couple of times, and so on. But I also learned to appreciate how important the freedom we so often take for granted here really is. People died there, and fairly regularly, in the name of freedom. To them, their lives were worth sacrificing in the hope of escaping to Freedom in the West. Many people did make it to Freedom, but many more died trying.
The Wall divided families in ways you can't imagine. I went to Brandenburg gate several times and stood on the platforms looking into the East. I saw West Berliners, standing on the platforms, waving at loved ones, hundreds of yards away on the East side. It was as close as they could get to each other.
I knew a young musician -- a talented keyboardist who toured in the backup band for some huge British solo artist of the day. Mike lived two doors down from the Wall, which actually cut off the end of his street. I asked about his father once and he told me his dad had been a biggie in the East Berlin government. He said his dad obviously knew about plans for The Wall but did not share them with his family. On the night the Wall began going up, his dad chose to stay in East Berlin and work with the government. His family were left to fend for themselves in West Berlin. Mike told me flatly that if he ever saw his father, he would kill him.
I knew a military family who was in Berlin before, during and after the Wall was built. They had friends who lived in the Russian Sector, in what would become East Berlin. They went out one night, ate, danced, drank, had a great time. The American couple invited their friends to stay overnight with them in the U.S. Sector, but the German couple said they had to get back.
The Wall went up that night, and the German friends never got out again.
I did get into East Berlin several times. We could go there, with something called "Flag Orders". It was strange going through Checkpoint Charlie, and seeing the barriers and so on from that side. I was always happy to get back to the West.
I haven't been back to Berlin since I left in March 1973, although I keep promising myself I would like to one day. I spent four years of my life there, in the Divided City. Maybe I just need to see what it's like now, with the Wall gone.
With Veteran's Day coming Wednesday, I hope y'all will take time to remember the veterans who served in Communist hot spots, like Berlin, during the Cold War years. Many folks died serving their country in these places, to be sure. In Berlin alone, many aircrews died in crashes in support of flying food, clothes, and supplies into Berlin during the Berlin Airlift, for example.
Paul
