The Wall Crossers

Wed 12 Jan - 9:15am - Going through Checkpoint Charlie - Anja's perspective

(Anja's thoughts translated to English)

I am in an official light blue diplomat's sedan assigned to transport me, by the West German government, from East Berlin to West. I have been through Hell in the past ten days!

I saw Horst—on his deathbed apparently. His parents were not warm toward me. Can I blame them? Their son is dying. Horst did not recognize me at all, or even speak to me. I knew the moment I arrived at the family home that it was a mistake. My feelings have changed, and I am not welcome.

After two days there with them, I decide to return home. I clean my things and gather my papers. I drink some coffee and have toast with Herr Kullack. His wife is not home—maybe she has returned to hospital. He says nothing as I gather my things, give him a brief head nod, and then leave.

There is a black car idling across the street—I cannot see into the windows. I step to the sidewalk and turn to head toward the nearby bus stop. I will transfer once and then arrive the Checkpoint Charlie to pass back, walking, into the West.

As I walk, I hear the car moving behind me. I am being followed. I look over my shoulder and quicken my pace. As I near the bus stop, two Stasi secret police rush to me and pull me into their car. They take me to a large, unmarked, window-barred building where I am kept in horrible conditions: interrogations, awful food, little sleep, and a dirty, cold cell with a small bed, toilet and wash basin.

After five days, Herr Stegel, an envoy from the West German foreign service comes to me with my jailers and escorts me out, telling me I am to be moved to a hotel for debriefing and there we will await official East German approval to let me return home.

Herr Stegel tells me my release was planned and coordinated by the acting Assistant Consul to East Germany, Niels Kepner, and that the US Army has been told of my plight—my supervisor knows then—Gut! (good!) They are standing by, awaiting word of my successful recovery.

"Frau Walena, stellvertretende Konsulin Kepner, möchte, dass Sie um 11 Uhr im Bundesamt für Auswärtigen Dienst in der Ringstraße 1900 zu ihm kommen," (Miss Walena, Assistant Consul Kepner wishes you to come to him at 11 a.m. at the Federal Office for Foreign Service on Ringstrasse 1900) says Herr Stegel.

I think of Niels. What he has done for me in this. Now he waits for me, the persevering wait of a man with a destination always in front of his eyes. Should I go to him? I think of Olivia. Does she wait for me, the impatient wait of a girl with a dream in front of her eyes and a ring on her finger and the dream is me, and the ring binds her to me always?

I am kept in the hotel for two days. At least I have some better food, a warm bath (a luxury after these past few days), wash my clothing, have some quiet time at night free of fear of being jailed with unknown prospects for release.

My second night in the hotel, in the early evening, I look out my room window, and out across the empty, drab East, toward the glowing, vibrant West. Olivia once told me, "Anja, West Berlin is like Heaven to me." I was so surprised to hear this! Since I have been living hier all my life, it did not seem so wonderful to me. But now, seeing that distant glow, and thinking of her, perhaps she was right. Perhaps—even though it is an island in a sea of darkness—West Berlin is like Heaven.

I think of Livie and try to feel her love reaching out to me, from the West, calling me. The distant Wall is a ribbon of fear, and my eyes are blurry with tears. The stars blink on and I wonder: does she see these stars right now? Is she waiting, or has she lost all hope? Is she even still in Berlin?

This morning, the 12th, they wake me early, and now a Turkish man is driving me to the West. I still have my travel bag with most of my things, and my burgundy wool coat—like Livie's. When we buy those coats—that was like—in a different lifetime! Both what I was certain I desired most for my life, and what was clearly precious and already mine, were like ein geheimnis (like a mystery?) to me. I did not then recognize the truth of either.

For my ride to the West, my car driver, a quiet man and a bit younger than me, was told to take me to the Federal Office for Foreign Service on Ringstrasse. Niels! I told the driver instead, "Andrews Barracks on Finkenstein Allee, Lichterfelde."

Herr Stegel warned me as I left the hotel, "Fräulein Walena, Sie können überall hingehen. Wir bleiben in kontakt. Aber sie können nie wieder in den Osten zurückkehren. Verstehen?" ("Miss Walena, you can go anywhere. We'll be in touch. But you can never again return to the East. Understand?")

"Ja, ich verstehe," I answered him, thinking to myself: 'We'll be in touch?'— Is he for real? What does that even mean?

Herr Stegel had let me make a call while in hotel. I had called Olivia's Andrews barracks. Two days ago. I had left a message for her that I would return. Please to wait for me there. Please do not go back to US.

Now, as we approach the checkpoint to enter West Berlin, two East German soldiers wave our car aside and I hear one of them tell my driver, "Gib mir bitte deine Unterlagen" (Give me your documents please). The driver passes some papers out the window.

I watch the other guard eyeing me, fingering his automatic rifle. My heart begins beating furiously, and I feel almost like I will faint.

"Und sie auch" (And her as well) the first soldier sternly says, looking back to me.

I pass my papers, plus the stamped official form from Herr Stegel, to the driver and he hands them out the window.

The soldier takes our papers inside his guard post, and we wait.

I look again to the other guard and he is still watching. I feel a steady panic rising in me—remembering that night. Horst was coming across from the East, to get past the Wall! The shots! The awful feeling of being helpless and scared... and now I am in the East and there is..."

The guard turns and walks away from us. I slow my breathing down. I relax my body. I think of Livie again. I feel better. I look up to the sky.

There was snow this morning, but the sky is clear and beautiful now. I hope Livie waits for me at Andrews. I have no way to know. We have been through so much. I realize finally: I love her. Yes. Her feelings toward me were clear to her all along, but I... I was in an unwirklicher traum—always an unreal dream, for Horst—and just did not notice my own feelings for her growing, intensifying, filling my heart. My heart seeing, becoming a thrilling kaleidoscope of desires—for Livie, for this day's möglichkeiten (possibilities), for the budding promise my life's flowering hope has bidden me to pursue.

But, now? Maybe it is too late. I do not know when she departs for US. Perhaps today? Ich hoffe es ist nicht heute! (I hope it is not today!)

The first soldier returns, hands the driver our papers, waving his free arm round and round calling out, "Sie können gehen. Bitte gehen sie weiter." (You are free to go. Please move along.)

We pull away from the guard post and are on our way at last to Andrews. I am in West Berlin again!