Berlin / Tempelhof Central Airport , 1973 - 1976
6912th Security Squadron, USAFSS
An Ex-Airman Remembers
Part 6 - 1976
Keeping Warm in the Silbersteinstraße
I tried heating with "Eierkohlen" Thursday evening January 8th, but didn’t have much success. "Eierkohlen", literally "egg-coals", were small hard egg-sized pieces of coal that produced large quantities of heat when properly burned. In my little bedroom in my Silbersteinstraße apartment I had a small stove that I learned to heat with Eierkohlen. In order to get the coals burning I had to use "Kohlenanzünder", small white cubes of a petroleum-based substance that ignited easily and burned for a period of about five to ten minutes. I managed to bring the temperature up to around 10 degrees Celsius, or sometimes nearly 15 or even 20 degrees if I was very lucky. But usually I had little time to spend on heating, and consequently the temperature mostly stayed below 10 degrees Celsius, or 50 degrees Fahrenheit. Besides being cold, the place was very dark and damp. It was a miserable existence, and I was fortunate that I didn’t get tuberculosis.
Brunhilde's Boyfriend
Sunday the 11th was the third day watch, and I got an early hit and walked back with Jim H. That evening I had the shock of my life. I was an usher for a church meeting at the Urania, and whom did I see come walking up the stairs? Brunhilde with a boyfriend arm in arm! I was completely stunned! I never would have dreamed that she would want to have a boyfriend, especially at that time in her life. While assembling my Schrank in my apartment, Rudi had told me a rumor to that effect, but I had discarded it as utterly unlikely.
Brunni's boyfriend was a ruddy-haired mustached Berliner with a poker face and distant demeanor. She cheerfully introduced him to me and he gave me a curt but proper handshake. I could tell right away that I was not the most important person in his life.
From that time on they were seen together at Nolli. That was the final blow for me. Outwardly I showed no feelings but inwardly I was crushed. Soon afterwards my feelings for Brunhilde had completely disappeared. That marked the terminal point of the "Brunhilde affair" that had dominated my life during the previous year.
Brunhilde and boyfriend married at Nolli four years later, after which they moved to West Germany and were never heard from again - at least by anyone I knew.
My Buddy Bodo
Bodo and I had been planning on meeting together, and on Monday the 20th we finally got together. We met at 2:00 in the afternoon, and he ate at the chow hall with me for the first time. We went to see my apartment, and then to his place. Bodo lived on Mansteinstraße, on the top floor of an old apartment building. A long staircase led up to the top floor, and by the time Bodo reached the top he was puffing and panting. He lived with his mother and another male relative, and an old, weak dog named "Bärchen". That year, in fact, "Bärchen" died, and they promptly got another dog just like the first one, and named it – "Bärchen!"
The times with Bodo were nice, but soon became a little dull. Bodo was always late and occupied with various things at his place. A few weeks later we stopped meeting, but a friendship was established between us as a result. He was very much concerned that I get a job after my discharge, and was always trying to help me out.
Putzfrau with Julie
On the 21st through the 24th I had "Putzfrau" duty with Julie R., working days instead of mids. Julie was a Hispanic WAF who at the time was going steady with George C. The Putzfrau with Julie was one that I never forgot, since on Friday and Saturday we spent the whole day replacing ceiling tiles at Marienfelde. It was a dirty, miserable job. Before starting I thought that it was going to be easy, but I soon realized that it was not. The tiles were dirty and dusty, and the powder from the tiles was very scratchy and irritating to the skin. I remember leaving an empty soda pop can up on top of one of the new tiles as I was working, as a kind of "time capsule" for the next person to find a few years later the next time the job would be done.
I always wondered who ended up finding the can.
The Coal Cellar
Tuesday the 3rd I had an interesting experience at my apartment. I had ordered coal for my cellar, and when I arrived at the place that morning, I found my cellar door broken and the lock broken off. I couldn’t have all my coal in an open cellar, so I immediately bought a new lock at a nearby hardware store and installed it before the coal truck arrived. A couple days later Steve B. explained to me that it probably had been the chimney sweep that had done it. Somehow that didn’t seem right to me.
The
coal delivery man himself was also an unforgettable experience. The cellar was
dark, and the stairs leading down to it were steep. He was carrying a load of
briquettes stacked on a rack strapped to his back, and staggered down the dark
stairway, cursing all the while at the inadequate lighting. After leading him
to my cellar stall, he rudely dumped his load on the ground and stormed out.
I was left with a jumbled pile of briquettes on the cellar floor, many of which
had broken in the fall.
Dan, Celeste, and the Nachlaßverwaltung
That night I slept in Dan B’s room, since mine was being worked on by painters and electricians.
Wednesday Dan B., Celeste, and I went to the Nachlaßverwaltung on Hasenheide near Hermannplatz that Steve B. and I had recently visited. The place was full of old books, household items, clothes, pictures, and other miscellaneous junk from vacated apartments. I bought an old book written in old German script called "Humor der deutschen Stämme", containing humorous stories narrated in the various German dialects. I slept in Dan’s room that night again.
Celeste was one of the WAF’s at Marienfelde. She had short brown hair, a square jaw, and wore glasses. She and Dan got along very well, and consequently we saw a lot of each other during the following weeks. I once drew a caricature of her working on the line at Marienfelde, and it remains the only image I have of Celeste.
Employment Worries
Sunday the 8th I finally approached Eugene Bird about getting a job. My Nolli friend Klaus-Dieter had encouraged me to do so, and was convinced that Mr. Bird could help me out. But it turned out to be a big disappointment. Bird was basically an entrepreneur, and had nothing to offer me but the same kind of advice that I had already heard about getting a civilian job with the U. S. Military.
Monday the 16th was my last day of break, and I spent the day with Bodo. He had suggested that I try to get a job with British Airways, the place where he worked, and offered to connect me with one of the managers that he knew at Tegel airport. So off we went, driving to Tegel. I was pretty nervous. After finding his office, he had me go in alone and ask for Mr. so-and-so. It took me a long while to get up the courage, and when I finally did, the secretary informed me that he was not in. So that ended that little adventure. As a consolation, Bodo invited me to try an "Irish coffee" with him, a beverage that he raved about, but which I must admit I found pretty revolting.
Saturday the 21st Dan B. and I went to the China shop on Yorckstraße with Pat McC. She was leaving Berlin the next day. After a while the two of them went off somewhere, and I went back by myself. That was the very last time I ever saw Pat, walking across the street with Dan B. as we parted.
Hildchen
Sunday the 22nd was the first mid, but I had a hit. Hildegard A., the 50-year-old lady who befriended me the previous fall, was taking me to her apartment after church that day. I got to Nolli late that morning, and the place was full to overflowing. Afterwards I rode with Hildchen in her car. She first drove Manfred’s family home, and then took me to her apartment up north.
Hildchen lived in a Neubau apartment near the Tegel airport, just south of Kurt-Schumacher-Platz. It was a nice, clean neighborhood, and behind their apartment building was a green area of some kind. She lived there with her husband, a very nice but unsmiling bald man who spoke a very rapid Berlin dialect, and son, an introverted 23-year-old with a stocky build and curious personality. They were all very much interested in me and my background. I had brought along some slides, which we all saw, and they in turn showed some of their travel movies. The family loved to travel, and had many reels of film documenting their adventures. It was a very pleasant time with them that afternoon, and I found her son’s one-liners quite entertaining. I could never figure out whether the guy was playing dumb or not. In any case Hildchen always seemed annoyed with his humor, a reaction which struck me as a bit odd. One quote I will never forget. In the conversation the German idiom about "not understanding ‘Bahnhof’" came up, and he replied, "Man muß ja Bahnhof verstehen," i.e., "You would have to understand ‘Bahnhof’". It struck me as very funny, but apparently I was the only one who thought so.
Private Lunch with Volkhard
On Tuesday, March 2nd I had an appointment with Volkhard Spitzer. He was to meet me at the front gate at 12:00 for lunch. I stood there waiting and waiting, and finally gave up and left. When I got back to my room I got a phone call. The SP’s said that a guy was looking for me, and so I went back to their office. It was Volkhard, an hour late.
We had originally intended on eating in the chow hall, but since it had already closed for lunch at 1:00, he invited me to eat over at a neighborhood Rixdorf on Manfred-von-Richthofen street near the base. There he told me how I should be bolder in finding a job, and that I should let people know about my abilities. He told me how through a lot of advertising he has put on big meetings and experienced big results because he planned big - even landing in first-rate hotels wherever he went. This was all good for Volkhard, I thought, but it seemed to go contrary to my own personality. He also confided to me how he lies flat on the floor before God, face down, powerless and helpless, before he puts on a big meeting. But then he stands up, full of confidence, and preaches with authority and power – and results. He encouraged me to have the same kind of attitude, and thought the idea of advertising myself in a big newspaper could bring some results.
That was one of the most interesting personal conversations I ever had with Volkhard Spitzer. It was interesting to get a "behind the scenes" glimpse into the personal ministry of one of Europe’s most colorful and well-known evangelists, the man who was once dubbed as the "David Wilkerson of Germany".
Olxheim
Thursday March 4th through Sunday March 7th our house meeting group went on a trip to West Germany. Bodo had bought a vacation home in a small village in West Germany called Olxheim. Olxheim, located near the town of Einbeck, is so small that it doesn’t show on most maps.
Thursday the 4th of March was the first day of my last leave. At 8:15 p.m. I took the duty train to Braunschweig, recording the clickety-clack of the railway on my stereo cassette recorder, which I had brought along for the weekend. It was the first time I had ever taken the duty train, the military train that commuted between West Germany and Berlin. It was an interesting experience. The train made many mysterious stops, and the windows were all shaded such that one couldn’t look out. By 1:15 a.m. we had arrived in the train station in Braunschweig, and that’s where I got off. I took a taxi to Jürgen B's apartment in the Nordstraße. He wasn’t there, but had given me the key. He and the others would be arriving the following evening.
The next day was spent alone in Braunschweig, relaxing in Jürgen’s apartment and taking a stroll downtown in a light snowfall. Later that day the whole troop arrived, and then took off in two or three cars for Olxheim. I rode in Jürgen’s green "Ente" with Jürgen, Dörte, Manfred's wife Jagoda, and Raphaela. The others on the trip were Bodo, Marina, Manfred, his two children Danni and Thomas, and Christiane with Indonesian boyfriend Ken.
We had a late arrival in Bodo’s "country cottage" in Olxheim, which in reality was a converted stable. It was uncomfortably cold. Bodo, Jürgen, Manfred, Ken, and I bedded down in one room, and the women and children in another.
When morning came we had breakfast together. The farm boy inside of me was very excited about being out in the country. Little Danni was running around singing "slava gospodu", some verses from a Serbocroatian Christian song. It was now daylight, and I could see where we were. Just a short distance away from the building I noticed there was a railroad track, and I seem to remember at least one high-speed passenger train whizzing by.
That afternoon we left Olxheim and visited the nearby town of Einbeck, a typical small German town with a church, a town square, picturesque buildings and quaint streets.
In the evening we all spent together relaxing and playing games. Christiane and Jürgen both seemed to have a large repertoire of social games. One of the games that Christiane presented was "das Wundertier". A group of about three people, all in the know, presented a "Wundertier", i.e., an "animal marvel" to an arbitrary unsuspecting victim, whom Christiane chose as her boyfriend Ken. Ken was to inspect the animal, front and back, while Manfred lauded its various traits to the public. Ken was then instructed to crawl under the "Wundertier" to inspect its underside. At a predetermined moment, the "Wundertier" relieved itself upon Ken’s face, by means of a hidden glass of water. It was a joke at Ken’s expense, and Jürgen on Sunday confided to me that he found the whole thing a bit underhanded.
That evening we all went out for a walk in the dark across some snow-tinged fields on the outskirts of Olxheim. It was a very beautiful place, and that brief walk remains as one of many random pleasant memories that has stuck with me throughout the years.
Sunday the 7th was
spent relaxing. In the forenoon we all went out to the meadow below the village for a
walk. Traces of snow were to be seen here and there. It was a sleepy, quiet, rural
village, with quaint German buildings and a very rural atmosphere. The only natives that
we met on our stroll were two cats. Later Bodo and I went out for a walk together to the
outskirts of the town and took pictures of each other next to the "Olxheim"
sign.
The rest of the day was slow and uneventful, and we left Olxheim at around 5:00. I rode in Jürgen’s car again, and spent the evening with him at his Braunschweig apartment. Late that night Jürgen took me to the train station, where I caught a 12:48 a.m. train back to Berlin.
When we arrived in Berlin at 6:00 a.m. the next morning, we found the city covered with snow! It was snowing as I had never seen it snow in Berlin before. I almost had to fight my way through the snowbanks to get back to base. After getting back, I went to bed for the forenoon.
Linguist for Hire
That evening Dan B. and I went to the Chinese restaurant "West Lake" in Neukölln together for the first time. He liked it as much as I did, and also ordered the #44, pineapple chicken. The waiter gave me a new supply of Chinese newspapers, which kept me occupied for the next few days.
I was still on leave, which lasted through the week until Saturday the 13th. I decided to take Volkhard’s advice, and on Tuesday the 9th I put an ad in the Tagesspiegel, a leading Berlin newspaper. There was a Tagesspiegel office just across from the base. I was advertising myself as a young American with a gift for foreign languages, fluent in English, German, Russian, and Chinese, available for anyone who wanted to hire me.
My Tagesspiegel ad appeared in the newspaper but no one responded. After several days I realized that the world would not be beating a path to my door in response to my linguistic talents, and I was a bit disappointed.
On the evening of Thursday the 11th I met Robin who advised me to get a job with the EES as soon as possible. He was sure that would be my best bet for a job. I wasn’t so sure, though, and I just ended up confused and depressed. I spent the evening in my lonely, cold apartment, where I managed to get the temperature up to 17 degrees Celsius.
Friday I signed in off of leave, and that night slept in G-2 on base. I worked the day watches from Saturday the 13th through Tuesday the 16th.
Purple Suit and Pink Tie
Wednesday the 17th I met with Hildchen A. in front of the Renaissance Theater, and we went shopping together for a suit for me. She liked the conservative gray suits, but I never found them particularly appealing and finally settled on a double-breasted dark purple suit that had a definite 1970’s flair.
Friday afternoon I went to Manfred’s place. We had made an appointment to go shopping for clothes. He took me to a place where I got a flashy blue shirt with a fancy design, and a bright pink tie! He thought it looked great on me, and since I myself had a naïve predilection for bright colors, I thought that I was all set with some decent clothes. But unfortunately, as I realized much later, it was only Manfred’s personal taste, and not particularly appropriate for the German business world.
Both Manfred and his wife, however, thought that I looked great, and they made a big fuss over me and took my picture, all dressed up in my purple suit, blue shirt, and bright pink tie! Manfred and his wife were becoming very good friends, and they let me stay overnight in their apartment.
Sunday evening was my first swing, and I got a hit. It snowed some that evening. I slept in my apartment, where I managed to get the temperature up to 20 degrees Celsius.
Last USAF Haircut - From Curly to Larry
Tuesday afternoon the 23th I went to the barber shop on base for my very last Air Force haircut. I remember sitting in the barber shop, awaiting my turn, savoring the fact that it was to be my very last military haircut ever. In 1970’s Germany everyone wore long hair, and we in the military stood out like neon lights. I could barely wait to let my hair grow out over my ears so that I could look like a normal human being.
Four years earlier I had experienced my first Air Force haircut at Lackland Air Force Base, the ultimate scalp-close haircut that I’m sure no Airman could possibly forget. And now was the very last time that GI scissors were to touch my hair. I picked up a magazine and started reading. In it I found an article about the Three Stooges and learned that Moe and Larry had recently died within a few months of each other. Four years earlier my head looked like ‘Curly’. Maybe it would look more like ‘Larry’ in a year or so.
Staying Overnight at Manfred’s
April 1976 was my last month in the Air Force. It had been a long four years, and it was finally coming to an end. It was nice to be getting some freedom, but the burden of having to find a job overshadowed much of the excitement of that event.
On Thursday evening, April 1st, I watched a Russian movie on TV "Chrezvychajnoe Polozhenie", a silly farce about a Soviet boat being captured by the Taiwanese. I started feeling sick that evening, and it kept getting worse as the night wore on. I got up at 3:00 a.m. and threw up in the restroom.
Friday the 2nd I was supposed to go to Manfred’s place for a party where Riad was going to be cooking for us. But I was sick all day in bed in my room at G-2. I called up Manfred that afternoon and explained the situation to him. But, typical Manfred, he wouldn’t hear anything of my not coming, and talked me into changing my mind. He had me wait out at the gate, and he personally drove down and picked me up. The evening turned out to be a great time. Dörte, Jürgen, Bodo, and Riad were there, and Jürgen showed slides of Nolli from 1967 to 1975. Manfred then invited me to stay at his place overnight, along with Jürgen, Dörte, and Bodo.
Saturday the 3rd I stayed with the family all day. I felt a little better, but had a weak appetite. We went out to a flea market at Sophie-Charlotten Platz, and then went shopping in Neukölln. After a Chinese dinner with them I went back to base at 9:00 p.m.
Sunday I was invited to Manfred’s for dinner again, as were Heinz M. and family from Nolli. Manfred spent some more time with me that evening, since I remember that we went downtown where he showed me a store on the Rankestraße that sold Russian typewriters. I was sorely tempted to buy one, but the price – well over a hundred Marks – was more than I was willing to spend.
Short
Monday through Thursday, April 5 – 8, was my very last set of swings at Marienfelde.
Monday I went to the hospital to get vaccinated, and Thursday my roommate Ed returned from a vacation in West Germany. After the last swing on Thursday Dan B. finally admitted that I was "short". In true Hector M. fashion, Dan was very grudging in his use of the word "short", applying this coveted adjective only to those of us who were approaching the "2-digit-midget" threshold.
Friday the 9th was a day of break, and I ran various errands, and that evening I cleaned out my locker in anticipation of finally moving out of the barracks.
Sunday afternoon I went down to my Silbersteinstraße apartment, and got the room heated up to 20 degrees. It had been getting warmer outside. That night I left for my last mid, running into Steve B. on the way. I was privileged to participate in a "max cleanup" that night, and fortunately it was my very last one. No more "max cleanup"s and no more burn detail for this airman!
Tuesday I went to the commissary and took down prices of various items. Manfred was going to commission me to buy some things for him there before I left the service. Also, I got some ice cream for the house meeting that night. Manfred came down to the base that afternoon and picked me up.
Manfred started telling me about Eugene Bird. He and Manfred apparently had been doing some talking about some sort of independent business that Mr. Bird was involved with. It had something to do with a household cleanser that he was marketing. As a gift he had given Manfred an autographed copy of the book he had written about Rudolf Hess.
(About twenty years later, widower Eugene Bird became close friends with widow Hildegard A. After one of the larger California earthquakes Hildchen was quite concerned about my safety, and got Bird to call me up long distance one morning to make sure that I was all right. It was quite a surprise. Afterwards I told my friends at work that I had just gotten an overseas call from a "former best friend of Adolf Hitler’s former best friend.")
Last Day at Marienfelde
Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday were my last day watches, and for that matter, my very last times at Marienfelde.
Friday the 16th was the big day. It was my very last day at Marienfelde. I had worked there continually for the past three years, and had served on at least three different flights. It had seemed a long, long time since those early days on Able flight with Ted, Bill M., John H., "Hak", and the others, most of whom were long gone. Things had changed quite a bit in three years. I felt that the competency level of the operators had gone down quite a bit. But at that point in my life it really didn’t matter any more.
I left Marienfelde at 12:30 p.m. Before leaving I turned around and took one last look down the "line", and then walked out, never to return.
I had to turn in my green badge, but was allowed to keep the picture in it, the one that was taken at Marienfelde in May of 1973, showing me as a one-striper. I have kept it as a souvenir ever since.
It was a nice day outside. I did some out-processing at Finance, and then went to reserve a helicopter ride for Monday. I had always wanted to do the helicopter thing, but had kept on postponing it. Time was now running out, however, and I knew that it was now or never.
That evening I ate out at the Chinese restaurant with Dan B., where I got more newspapers. It had become a bit embarrassing, since the Chinese people there only had so many to give away, and I had the impression that they felt obliged to do it, even if they really didn’t feel inclined to.
Saturday the 17th was my "ROD" day, i.e., "Relieved of Duty." Within a week I would be a civilian again. It was a nice, sunny day, and I spent the afternoon with Terry G. He and I had made an appointment to go exploring down at Volkspark Mariendorf, just north of the Alt-Mariendorf U-Bahn station. This park bordered on the east side of Mariendorfer Damm, and was visible from the bus every time we rode past on our way to work. Both he and I had been curious to visit the place. There was a pond in it that stretched out toward the east, and it was not readily apparent how far out the park extended, at least not from the vantage point of a passer-by. This was our opportunity to explore the place, and it was made even more satisfying to me personally, since I was now ROD and would never have to ride past the spot again as a "prisoner."
Sweet Beer
Monday the 19th was another nice day. It was Easter Monday in Germany, an official holiday. Dog Flight had organized a party for that forenoon out in the park east of the Hangars near the runway. Several kegs of beer had been ordered from a local brewery, and when they arrived the guys opened them up and started gustily sampling the beverages. "This is sweet beer!" one of the Dog Flighters remarked. His buddy took a sip and heartily agreed. But after a few moments they became suspicious. "Hey, this isn’t beer!" "What is it?" "I don’t know, but it sure as hell ain’t beer!" It had the appearance of beer, but was instead some sort of soft drink. I took a taste, and immediately recognized it as the popular German soft drink called Faßbrause!
There followed some cursing and swearing and shouting among the troops. They were outraged at the brewery for having been duped. A group of them led by Mike B. decided to cart the phony wares back to the brewery, where they intended to demand kegs of beer, or their money back. Since no one spoke enough German to be able to negotiate with the locals, I was quickly volunteered to be their spokesperson, or at least the interpreter for the spokesperson. So off we went in a pickup truck to the brewery, me nervously awaiting the confrontation, and the others festering in their resentment. When we got to the front gate we found it closed. No amount of shouting or badgering on the part of the unhappily sober airmen could convince the guard to open up, and so they had nothing better to do than to turn around and head back to base and make do with what little beer they did have.
Flying Over Berlin
Early that afternoon was the helicopter ride. I showed up at the office in the Hangars where those of us who had signed up awaited the takeoff. At the last minute an officer showed up who wanted to take a ride, and for a few tense moments it looked like I would be bumped. But as it turned out they took us all.
I was seated on the left side of the aircraft, next to a window. I had my camera along, but unfortunately had forgotten to buy extra film. The roll that was in the camera had already been partially used, and so I knew that I had to conserve pictures for only the most spectacular shots.
Soon the engines started up and we lifted up off the runway in front of the open hangar. We hovered in the air for a couple minutes, about ten or twenty feet off the ground, and then we were off!
It was a fantastic ride, one of the highlights of my stay in Berlin. I had already lived in the city long enough to know my way around rather well, and seeing the city from the air was like viewing a living, 3-D map. I was utterly fascinated by what I saw.
The ride lasted an hour and a half, and it took us around the entire perimeter of the city, from Frohnau to Marienfelde, from Spandau to the Reichstag. I took pictures of the Reichstag, the Siegessäule, the Kongresshalle, Märkisches Viertel, and a perfect shot of Nollendorfplatz. I could have kicked myself for not having taken more film. There were so many other interesting pictures I could have taken.
Reichstag, Siegessäule, Kongresshalle, Märkisches Viertel
Nollendorfplatz
At one point we flew over the Marienfelde site. I had heard that it was illegal to photograph it, but noticed that one of the other guys in the helicopter was busily photographing it anyway. While flying over Frohnau in the northern extremity of Berlin we spotted a fire. Smoke was rising into the air, which was of course visible from a considerable distance. When we got to the scene of the fire, we made a couple circles to take a look at all the excitement. I saw that it was a burning "Pilz", a kind of streetcorner gazebo or pagoda with a thatched roof. Traffic was tied up, and firemen were battling the blaze. It was a bizarre kind of scene, the fire and commotion below, with no sound for us other than the droning of the helicopter’s engines. Several months later I learned that one of the firemen on the scene was none other than Achim, Manfred’s brother, whom I got to know very well during my last year in Berlin.
As it turned out, I was a little too conservative on my use of film. I suddenly realized that after about an hour and a half we were finally landing, and so I quickly took a picture of the neighborhood of Neukölln just east of the airport. I had one picture left after that, but it was too late. We were already over the runway.
It had been a wonderful flight, except for one negative aspect - the noise. It was deafening. I had naively thought that somehow the noise of the engines would be muffled inside the helicopter itself, but I was very, very wrong. After we landed my ears were completely shot. They were ringing for days. I eventually recovered, but I can’t help but imagine that I experienced at least some level of hearing loss from that flight.
I was ready to have another ride, this time better prepared with more film. I asked at the office, but found that it was out of the question for that week. I was disappointed. Since that was my very last week with the Air Force, I realized that the door was now permanently closed.
Alice in Wunderland
That afternoon Dan B. and I went to the chow hall together with Celeste, and then afterwards we three went downtown. "Alice in Wunderland" was playing in a local movie theater, and we went to see it. It was a great movie, with terrific colors. I hadn’t seen that many cartoon movies in my lifetime, and certainly not any for several years. The experience of seeing a Disney cartoon all in color in the movie theater that night was overwhelming, and I enjoyed it tremendously. It was also interesting to see the whole thing in German. I of course understood everything, but Dan and Celeste were apparently there just for the visual experience.
Monday, April 19th, 1976 had certainly been a memorable day.
Civilian Life at Last
Thursday the 22nd I had an appointment with Klaus-Dieter to help me move the junk from my G-2 room to my Silbersteinstraße apartment. However, he didn’t show up at the agreed time. It got later and later, and I became very nervous. It was absolutely necessary for me to vacate my room, and I couldn’t do it by myself. So in desperation I went and called Bodo to rescue me. By the time Bodo arrived, Klaus-Dieter had come rushing up. He had forgotten our appointment, and felt really bad about it. Poor Bodo had nothing better to do than to turn around and go home, and then Klaus helped me move. We packed all my boxes of junk into his VW van, and carted it off to my apartment.
Friday, April 23rd was the big day. It was my last day of active duty in the U.S. Air Force. It had all started in July of 1972, and now it was finally over. I got checked out of my room, and at 1:00 I had my final out-processing appointment. An Hispanic-looking sergeant did my paperwork, and filled out my DD14 form, which, he emphasized, was a very important document that I should guard well. He then took my ID card, thoughtfully looked it over, and took a large pair of scissors from his desk and silently began to cut it into pieces. He left the mug shot intact and gave it to me as a souvenir. There was a slight shadow of a smile on his face as he handed it over.
After that little ceremony I went to visit Dan B. in his room. I then left base as a civilian.
I was finally a free man.
That afternoon I went down to Steglitz and walked to the Forum from the 65 bus stop on the Autobahn. I still remember walking there down the street among all the Berliners in the late afternoon sun, thinking to myself that I was now walking the streets as a free man, a private citizen, and not as a member of the armed forces of an occupying army.
Underneath East Berlin
Saturday morning there was a meeting up at Manfred’s place. I took the subway from Alt-Tempelhof, straight up through to Scharnweberstraße without switching trains, for the very first time. It was one of two lines that ran through East Berlin, and this was the first time I could legally travel the East Berlin stretch, now that I was a civilian. It was a very creepy experience going through East Berlin. We passed through some stations that were permanently closed. They were dimly lit, and looked very spooky. Usually an East German policeman would be patrolling the platform with a rifle, and other times there would be no one in sight. The controllers’ booth was boarded up with little peek holes, large enough for the muzzle of a gun. They looked like little fortresses. It was so bizarre.
The train rails were also very bumpy and clanky in East Berlin. One could instantly tell when the border had been crossed going into East Berlin, even underground in the dark, since the smooth ride suddenly gave way to a loud, bumpy creaking, screeching, and rasping. Similarly, after passing all the East Berlin stations and approaching the Reinickendorferstraße in West Berlin, the bumping, jostling, and rasping suddenly ended, and we were floating on air again.
Postscript - July 2000
It has now been a quarter of a century since my adventures at Marienfelde.
Back in 1974 I remember one Able-flighter laughing about Marienfelde and saying, "Some day I'm going to write a book about this place!" I didn't say anything, because in my heart I KNEW that I was going to write a book about the place, and had in effect already started writing the book in the form of my diaries. And with the advent of the World Wide Web I was finally presented with the perfect forum for publishing it.
I hope you have enjoyed the story. Everything written in it is true, and all the events happened just as I have recorded them, and all the people are real - but I did take the liberty of altering some of their names.
Since the publication of my memoirs on the Web, I have received emails from various Marienfelde veterans who have come out of the woodwork, some of whom I knew, and some of whom I never met. It has been indeed interesting sharing notes about people and places we all knew back then. It was a fascinating place and a fascinating time, each of us playing a tiny part in world history, small cogs in the machinery of the Cold War, under the shadow of the Berlin Wall.
So what happened to me in Berlin after I became a civilian? And did I ever see Dan T. again? Or Brunhilde? And what ever happened to the site at Marienfelde?
My European out was indeed approved and I managed to stay in Berlin for two and a half years after my discharge. By June I had finally landed a job. The president of the Berlitz language school in Berlin became a regular visitor at Nolli and a good friend of Volkhard Spitzer. Through this connection I obtained a job as an English teacher at the school, and I ended up working there for two years. In August 1978 I left Berlin and moved to Southern California, where I have been living ever since. In the meantime I have managed to make two trips back to Berlin: once in 1980 and the last time in 1985. During both visits I took the opportunity of checking up on the site at Marienfelde.
Marienfelde remained in operation for about 15 years after my discharge, until it was entirely shut down on September 19, 1991. Stu Engbretson, I am told, was there to the very end. I was sorry to learn that Stu passed away just a few years ago, on October 24, 1996.
By 1982 the church at Nollendorfplatz was bursting at the seams. They let their lease run out at their small meeting hall and then purchased the century-old Garnison-cathedral at Südstern in Kreuzberg, not far from Tempelhof airport. The church is still active today. Volkhard Spitzer, who turned 60 in 2003, left the church in 1986.
My best friend Dan T. was stationed in Idaho after being transferred from Berlin, and he eventually ended up back in his home state of Pennsylvania after his discharge. He lives there today, happily married to his new wife Patty. We had lost contact for many years, and I finally located him in 1994, 20 years after he had left Berlin.
My Goodfellow friend and ex-roommate Ted ended up making a 20-year career in the Air Force. He received his discharge in 1992 and today lives with his family on the East coast.
In 1992 I met Mark M. in Long Beach, California, right when he was in the process of moving up to Oregon. He was as friendly and cheerful as ever, and we exchanged our memories of Aleksandra, the Russian lady.
Aleksandra Nikolayevna Maslennikova passed away in a Red Cross hospital in Berlin on September 19, 1980. I saw her there in the hospital for the very last time on July 30, 1980. She was older and weaker and a bit disoriented. She no longer remembered who I was, but was polite enough to converse with me for a few minutes.
The surprise of a lifetime came when, after decades of silence, I received an email from Brunhilde, and of all times on the 25th anniversary of our breaking up. She is now separated from her husband and lives with her two teenage daughters in a small town in West Germany. She still has fond memories of our brief romance, and filled me in on some forgotten details from those magical days, including lines to some of her long-lost poems.
Komm petit und laßt uns träumen
von dem fernen weiten Land,
das wir beide hier auf Erden
doch wohl niemals finden werden.
Und dann legst du deine Hand
in die meine sacht hinein,
und gemeinsam seh'n wir Blumen,
wunderschön ganz zart und klein.
See the pictures behind the story:
MARIENFELDE / TCA PHOTO GALLERY
Disclaimer:
The purpose of "Marienfelde, 1973-1976, An ex-airman remembers" is only to entertain. These are personal memories of one individual, and as such they are subject to error. The names of individuals have in nearly all cases been abbreviated or altered in order to protect their privacy; therefore the reader is STRONGLY cautioned against making any assumptions as to the identity of any individuals referred to in this narrative. The views and opinions communicated on this website, whether explicit or construed, are those of a private individual and not those of the United States Air Force, the USAFSS, or any other government agency.
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