Patrick Edaburn reminded us that 50 years ago today, on August 13, 1961, construction started on the Berlin Wall.
I don’t remember much about the day or the event.
I was too busy completing the last few weeks of Officer Candidate School, and the Berlin Wall itself did not start going up immediately, as I remember.
However, barbed wire went up everywhere, streets were dug up, East German military guards were ever-present and the people from East Berlin were made virtual prisoners.
I do remember, after my graduation, how tensions rose rapidly between the United States and the Soviet Union and evolved into the “Berlin Crisis.” By the time the crisis “peaked” at the end of October, the Berlin Wall was under full construction and would stand and separate East and West Berlin for almost 30 years.
On November 9, 1989, the infamous Berlin Wall finally “came down.” (It would still be weeks and months before the monstrous construction would be actually torn down.)
Since I probably won’t be here on the 50th anniversary of that momentous event, I would like to (re-) share with our readers a piece I wrote on the 20th anniversary.
*****
I had absolutely nothing to do with the fall of the Berlin Wall.
Having served in the military during the “Cold War,” including in Germany, I hope I played a small role—an infinitesimally small one—in bringing an end to that conflict.
However, living and working in Belgium in November of 1989, I had a “significant role” in observing (via live TV), rooting for and celebrating the fall of that infamous wall.
The wall did not physically come down during the long night of November 9, 1989. It would take several more weeks and months for the massive, reinforced concrete wall to be chipped, pickaxed, sledge-hammered and eventually bulldozed down.
But, as I watched the unbelievable scenes from Brussels, it soon became clear that, symbolically, the wall of oppression, fear, and death had already fallen—forevermore.
Scenes of incredible confusion, chaos and potential violence were unfolding by the minute.
As a result of an ambiguous East German government statement on November 9, announcing future relaxation of travel between East and West Germany, that evening thousands of East Germans converged and demonstrated at checkpoints between East and West Berlin demanding unrestricted passage to West Berlin.
Since the armed East German border guards had not been informed of the pending changes, tensions were high.
As the pressure, the tensions and the crowds became overwhelming, guards at some checkpoints let some people enter West Berlin. At other border crossings, the guards simply raised the barriers allowing tens of thousands of jubilant East Germans to cross into West Berlin and into the arms of thousands of equally jubilant, dancing, singing West Berliners who had gathered at the border crossings, many with bottles of champagne and flowers.
Many searched anxiously for loved ones they had not seen in years and the world witnessed scenes of emotional, joyful reunions.
Close to midnight, November 9, most of the other crossing points inside Berlin were opened, and thousands upon thousands of East Berliners poured into West Berlin on foot, on bicycles, and in packed cars—many carrying their meager belongings.
I do not remember any shots being fired. But I do remember, during the early hours of chaos, East German guards menacingly pointing weapons at demonstrators, and dousing some who scaled the wall with fire hoses.
But even the ice cold water could not dampen the spirits. Germans were deliriously happy.
Being so close to Berlin—only an overnight train ride away—I felt that I was watching history being made. As it turned out, epic history was certainly made.
Festivities went on for days. Any pretense of controlling the flow of East Berliners into West Berlin was soon abandoned and all border crossings were opened.
The entire 20-mile-long wall that ran through the middle of Berlin, cruelly and indiscriminately splitting neighborhoods, separating fellow citizens and families, came down by the end of 1990.
It had been a monstrosity, complete with anti-vehicle trenches, barbed wire, guard towers and mined “death strips” that resulted in the deaths of almost 200 people who were only seeking freedom. A wall that could not keep another 5,000 East Germans from escaping tyranny by climbing over it or crawling under it, through hand-dug tunnels. (One such tunnel, through which almost 60 people escaped was eventually discovered by the East German secret police and destroyed and sealed.)
Within a few weeks, people were allowed to travel by train between Western Europe and Berlin.
I was one of those first travelers. When I arrived at the wall, I saw hundreds of people hacking away at large sections of remaining wall. I realized that the spirit of free enterprise had arrived when I saw a number of young men renting hammers and chisels to tourists to chip at the wall. I promptly rented a set for a couple of dollars.
During the many years of its existence, West Berliners had generously decorated the wall with lots of colorful, imaginative graffiti.
Pieces of the wall with such graffiti were the most coveted.
When I arrived in Berlin, however, most of the original graffiti had already been hacked away.
Not to worry. Thanks to spray-paint-can technology and German ingenuity, the graffiti would miraculously reappear every morning.
We all knew we were “being had.” But in the euphoria that continued, no one seemed to mind.
I still proudly display pieces that I chipped from the Berlin Wall, some with fake graffiti. But there is nothing fake about the history I witnessed 20 years ago.
Photos by the author
Added:
Just happened to be looking at the photo of the author (in younger years) hacking away at the wall, and noticed the “hammer and sickle” image formed by the hammer and a half-circle piece of graffiti on the wall. What an amazing coincidence!
The author is a retired U.S. Air Force officer and a writer.