Berlin - The Trip (part 1)

When in the Army I was fortunate enough to be stationed in Germany, much to the chagrin of both my brother and dad (my brother got Panama and my dad’s closest assignment to Europe was Greenland; no comment there).

Anyway, my wife and I decided that we wanted to take a weekend vacation to Berlin in October, 1989. At the time, travel to Berlin was permitted, but on your leave form you had to have on the form “Travel to East Berlin Authorized”. If that wasn’t on the form, and you tried to go you would be turned away at Checkpoint Alpha.

That’s right, there was a Checkpoint Alpha, and a Bravo, in addition to the Charlie. It surprised me too, but I never really thought about it. Alpha was the Checkpoint at Helmstedt, which was the crossing point for American troops to drive to Berlin. Bravo was at Dreilinden, in the south part of Berlin (and the entrypoint to West Berlin from East Germany), and Charlie, of course, was the gateway from West to East Berlin.

So, I got the proper info put on my leave form, and we began the drive early in the morning to Helmstedt, which was about three hours away. We arrived at Alpha at about 7:00 or so. When we went in we were met by the MPs which manned the checkpoint. As they were in an isolated post, they did not have access to a daily paper, they asked us if we had any relatively recent copies of Stars & Stripes. I gave them what I had, and they were appreciative. They then told my wife that she had to go into the lobby area while I received a travel briefing. So, she went out and played the slot machines that were there (she won about $5, so it was a plus). Oh, and some of the MPs had language training in Russian, for reasons that will be explained later.

I sat down and the MPs proceeded to tell me what I could expect as soon as I left Checkpoint Alpha. I would go from there to the Soviet (not German, Soviet) Checkpoint on the other side of the border. I would get out of my car and go to the Guard shack. The Soviet (read: Commie) soldier would immediately salute me. Even though I was not in uniform (not required for travel TO Berlin; when I went into East Berlin I had to be in my Dress (Class “A” uniform), I would salute the soldier back. He would hold his hand out, and I would give him my Berlin Travel paperwork. He would go inside the guard shack, make a phone call to the other shack across the street, and come back and give me the paperwork. I would then cross the street and go into the other shack and put the paperwork under the blacked out window and wait until they returned it. It could be immediate or it could take a few minutes. I would then go back to the other Commie, return his salute, give him the paperwork, and he would look over it again, then give it to me. One final salute and I would be allowed to get in my car and begin the drive to East Berlin. A dog and pony show to the max, but if it improved relation between the Two Superpowers, I was not going to screw it up and cause World War 3.

In my car, my wife was not allowed to look around; she was requested to look straight ahead while I was performing the “ceremony.” No cameras were allowed, and had to remain in the trunk the entire drive through to Berlin. If they caught us with a camera visible, I could be in serious trouble. So, no camera. During the drive, I was to take note of any military activity of any kind. I was not to write it down, but remember it any way I could, especially significant troop movement.

They then proceeded to tell me what I could expect during the drive. They then told me exactly how far I would stay on each road, and what exits to take (including photographs of the signs). They also told me how long I could expect to be in the Corridor (they called the route to Berlin the Helmstedt-Berlin Corridor), and what I could expect is something went awry. I was given a notebook with the pictures of the exits as well as some other documentation. Inside the notebook were also two pieces of paper. These papers had sayings in Russian, German, and English. If I were stopped for any reason, I was to hold the first one, which basically said that I was an American and demanded that I be on my way. If, after 20 minutes, I was still detained, I was to show the second one, which said that I demanded to speak to a Soviet Liaison immediately. If I had to use that one, then this defecation has hit the ventilation, and all kinds of stuff would be put into action. They assured me that it wouldn’t happen; but Murphy’s Law… That was the reason some MPs in the Berlin Brigade had the language training, so they could do stuff like that (talk to the Russkies, etc.). I was allowed something like 4 hours inside the corridor before they would count me overdue.

So, the briefing over, I pulled my wife from the slots, and we got in our car. I drove over to the Soviet Checkpoint, and was amazed at all the preventative measure keeping those people in. As I was driving, I was unable to take in all the soldiers, guard towers, guns, lights and barriers that were on this road. It was incredible.

So I pulled up to where I was supposed to, and got out of my car. I was so tempted to be wearing my KGB T-shirt that I got at DLI, but that would have gone over like the proverbial fart in church (the MPs probably would have made me change, anyway). I walked to the Russian soldier, and I swear he looked 12. But, he had a real AK-47, so I did not laugh, (yet, this gets better). He saluted, and I gave him the best salute I ever gave a private in my life. He reached his hand out for the papers and what do I do? Like a total f***ing idiot, I shake it. I Shook A Russian Soldier’s Hand. Me, the Ultimate Commie Hater, Ever. Not only that, I said, “Dobry Den!” which means Good Day, in both Czech and Russian. Immediately after I shook his hand I realized my mistake. I felt like a moron. He was pretty nervous, as I am sure that there were about 40 pictures of us shaking hands from as many angles. He kept his composure well, though. I gave him the paperwork and he went into his shack to call over to his superior. I was to remain at the position of atttention, so I could not move around and look at anything. He came back after a few seconds, and gave me the paperwork to take over to the other building. So I walked over to the other building (on the other side of my car), and walked inside. There was a chair, a big TV (like from the 70’s), a table with lamp, and hanging on the wall, a picture of the Big Commie Himself, Comrade Mikhail Sergeyevich Gorbachev. But the large birthmark on his head had been airbrushed over. I laughed. I put the paperwork under the window as instructed, and waited. And waited.

And waited.

As I was waiting, I heard a phone ring. I heard a voice answer it, and immediately he yelled, “Dobry Den, Comrade Major!” (it sounds like Mayor in Russian). My ears perked up and I desperately tried to use my listening skills to find out what they were saying, but as I was trained in Czech, Russian sounds like a retarded Czech speaking with marbles in his mouth. So I gave up and still waited for my paperwork. During the conversation he gave me back my paperwork and I left to go back to the other side of the street.

ASIDE: My wife told me that as I was in that building, the Soviet Commie walked around my car, several times, looking at it. As my wife was instructed not to look around, she looked straight ahead. But when he walked into her view, they smiled and kind of laughed at each other. She said it was funny.

So, I go back to the other Commie, and salute him again. He put his hand out again, and I gave him the paperwork this time. Again he went into the shack and made his call. He came out, returned my paperwork, and for the third and final time, we saluted. I then did a Parade Ground Perfect about face movment, and walked to my car.

I got back in my car, and slowly proceeded through the checkpoint. Once through, we went along the East German Autobahn at precisely 100Kph (60 miles an hour); the speed limit over there (in West Germany, the speed limit inside the city limits is 100 kph; outside it is unlimited – pretty cool). The difference between the two countries was amazing.