Exactly 20 years ago today, the infamous Berlin Wall “came down.” It would still be weeks and months before the monstrous construction would be actually torn down. However, the symbolic, emotional—and practical—impacts of that night 20 years ago were real, are still with us and are vividly remembered.
The following article appeared today in the Austin American-Statesman and has been slightly revised and expanded by the author.
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.
Photos by the author
The author is a retired U.S. Air Force officer and a writer.