The Wall Crossers

Wed 12 Jan - 10:05am - Going to Tempelhof - Anja's perspective

Five minutes after I hang up from talking with Corporal Felder, he pulls up in a light green US Army sedan and motions me in. I open the door and slide into the passenger side up front—placing my bag on the spacious floor. I make note of the fact that he does not get out to help me into the car, as most American soldiers would do to impress a girl. He knows we have no time for formal niceties.

He pulls out of Andrews and turns left on Finckenstein Allee. He knows the City and will take a route that gets us there faster. This means he is trying to help me.

We drive for a few blocks without speaking. I am still angry that he did not give my message to Livie. But now... he is my only hope that I will ever see Livie again, before she leaves Germany and returns home.

Livie's home—where is it? Every time we had talked about her home, her family, her past, I would be so selfishly thinking of Horst and me. Mensch! Her home is in South Carolina, yes? No... no, it is North Carolina! Ähhh (Uh huh), of that I am certain. In a large city—I think. What was its name? How many large cities can there be in that state? I would check them all. I would go to every large city there, and I would look in the phone books to find her. I would ask her to take me and keep me and never to be apart from me again. Would make up for all my mistakes. I would learn the ways of being a woman in North Carolina. Yes! And this too: I would be... we would be wives together. The thought of this gives me a tiny electric thrill in a place deep inside my body.

What was wrong with me all those past months? Those years? I was blinded by impetuous feelings. The mind of a starry-eyed girl! (right now, in the car as I am thinking of these things, I am shaking my head at myself—at my obliviousness! From the corner of my eye, I see Corporal Felder look over at me--wondering) But, Yes, I was blinded. And I did not become clear-minded, did not become a woman of purpose, of understanding, until these past recent days—in the East. A cascade of memories from the past few months collapsed on me. They did. Memories of all we had done, had been, together—sharing and being close. True love building. Realizing: the heart of my girlhood was over—the heart of my future beginning.

"Maybe the flight will be late," says Corporal Felder, interrupting my thoughts, breaking the silence.

I look over at him for the first time. His uniform is heavily starched. He smells of starch and a touch of cologne, but which brand, I am unsure. I do not really even want to speak English to him, so I say, "Ja, vielleicht wird es." (Yes, maybe it will.) I notice he has light brown hair cut in a short crew cut, blue eyes, a broad face with a scar just below his mouth on the right side. His is the look of a harter typ (tough guy). I look back to the front.

He looks over at me, saying, "You probably hate me, right?" He signals a turn, turns quickly almost hitting a bus that is pulling away from the curb at the same time. "Scheisse!" (Shit!)

I brace myself against the dash and say, "I have heard about you, yes."

"You probably think I am a very mean person, right? Ja?"

"Bist du? Are you?" I continue to face forward. Place my hands across each other in my lap.

He sighs audibly, deeply, says, "I want a career... with the Army. Many of these... people... are only here a short time. We must show discipline, uniformity. We must do this so... so we can trust the others, everyone, to do their part. Encouraging... the best... the best of our soldiers."

We are on a main thoroughfare now, traffic heavy. I say, "Are you saying some soldiers aren't acceptable because... because they are not like you?" I feel my disgust for this man growing. I know many Army people—he is not the example! Not to me.