Berlin / Tempelhof Central Airport , 1973 - 1976

6912th Security Squadron, USAFSS

An Ex-Airman Remembers

Part 3 - November and December 1974

Call from a Girl, and Visit from a General

Monday, November 4th, I was told that I was back on the ERF team. Bummer.

I got a hit Saturday evening the 9th, and went to Nolli. Before the meeting Volkhard whisked by and told me that he wanted to talk with me afterwards. After the meeting I went to him, and he told me he wanted me to get together with that girl he had told me about during his visit to TCA in October, the girl he wanted to send to America.

On the way back to base that night a communist got onto the subway at the Gleisdreieck station and started shouting some bizarre slogans. Commuting in Berlin was sometimes an adventure in itself.

Sunday the 10th I went to the morning service at Nolli, and Volkhard told me that the girl was not there that morning. And so he took my telephone number – again.

The third swing that night was another dead one, but this time I had brought along some reading material. I read some in the snack bar, but kept falling asleep. Gary H. was there, griping about having to work on evenings when there’s nothing to do. Monday’s swing was busy for once. Past 10:00 Sgt. Ch. sent me back to Tempelhof to be mess check. It was the first mess check I had done in a long while, and I had to sit there until 1:10. Ruth was complaining about things again, and expressing her extreme dislike of George the Turk.

Tuesday afternoon Tony told me that a girl "who couldn’t speak much English" had called me while I was gone. It fit the description of the girl Volkhard wanted me to meet. Later the phone rang again, and it was her. We had a short talk and agreed to find each other at Nolli on Wednesday night. She sounded very mature, as if she were going to be helping me instead of the other way around.

At 3:40 I went to the orderly room for a detail; we had to haul luggage for a visiting general. "Pic" and I were the only people who showed up, and I felt dumb about it. We went down to the protocol office on the flight line to meet the general’s entourage, but he was late. So we left, and came back later when he finally arrived. There was all kinds of brass there, and we took the luggage to the Columbia House and unloaded it there. We were dismissed at 5:00.

Wednesday the 13th we all had to wear our blues to work. Even Hector was dressed up in his blues, and looked so out-of-character. As he was pointing to his collar brass, I suddenly noticed that I wasn’t wearing mine. They were on the other uniform! It was 6:50. I dashed back to the room, got the other uniform, and ran back, just catching the bus at the corner as it was leaving.

It was a busy day. The general came to the site, supposedly in a helicopter, but he never came through our area, and we never saw him.

First Date with Brunhilde

Wednesday evening I was excited and anxious about meeting the girl, and after the service I met her. Her name was Brunhilde. She was short, with short blondish hair, sullen eyes, and unsmiling face. After talking a little we agreed to meet at Tempelhof at 4:30 on Monday. Volkhard was happy to see us together, and came over to say a few words to us.

Friday evening I went to Nolli. Brunhilde was there and greeted me, and I didn’t even recognize her. Somehow she looked different, or maybe I just didn’t remember what she looked like. After the service I met Brunhilde outside with that short blonde girl Sabine. She gave me the impression of being very private and aloof; it was hard to describe.

Monday the 18th, my second day of break, was the big day. I was to meet with Brunhilde. At 4:30 I went to meet her at the gate, and she was about eight minutes late. It was already dark by that time, but I recognized her on the sidewalk as she was coming. I was going to take her to the mess hall to eat that evening. I asked her if she were hungry, and she answered flatly, "No." I was a little disappointed, but we went to eat anyway. She ate like a bird; she said she had been sick recently. After eating, I showed her around base a little, and then took her to the Skyrider rec center to do our "English lesson."

Before we started she gave me some flowers that she had brought along. I was a little surprised and embarrassed. Apparently that was German etiquette. She had brought along a little glass vase to put them in, and had me fill it with water. So I put the flowers into the vase and placed it on the table in front of us. She also brought me a little KJV New Testament with wooden covers which she had purchased in Jerusalem. She had been one of the 27 that had traveled to Israel in April.

I was at a loss as to how to conduct the "lesson", and she didn’t have any ideas either. She was afraid to speak English, and spoke mostly German the whole time. Volkhard had said, "It’s gonna be hard, but have her speak English." I found out she had quite an inferiority complex, and was always giving in to everything.

Before quitting that night, we agreed to meet again on Sunday when she would take me to her place at Olivaerplatz. She left around 7:15, after about three hours together. I walked her to the gate and saw her off. Then I went back to the Skyrider to pick up the flowers I had left standing on the table, and took them back to the room.

I was filled with very mixed emotions that night. Little did I know what in store for me for the next two months! As a souvenir of that first meeting I kept part of the bouquet that she brought me, and also the little Jerusalem KJV New Testament with the wooden covers. I still have these momentos with me today. Whenever I see the little New Testament I think back to that November day in Berlin, many years ago, when I had my first date with Brunhilde.

Hector's Roomie and Tony's Girl

The first swing Wednesday night was moderately busy. I told Randy and Gary H. about Brunhilde. Hector was talking about his great aspirations of being a race car driver. On the swing on Thursday it was dark and gloomy. Shortly after arriving at the site, D. gave me a hit and sent me back. Three other guys also got hits, and we all headed back to base together, taking the 11 bus and the U-Bahn. I was glad that I wasn’t travelling alone; I always hated riding public transportation in uniform.

Friday the 22nd there was a Commander’s Call at 1:00. It was the usual routine. First, the acting 1st Sergeant gave a lecture, followed by a film, and then a personal appearance by Col. Joyce himself. It lasted until past 2:00. At supper I sat with Hector and Dan B., who told me they were going to be roommates. Dan B. was from Flushing, New York. I didn’t know him very well at that time, but a little over a year later we became good friends.

I went to bed at 1:00 that night, and then Tony and John came in very noisily from some party at around 2:30. Tony had some girl along. "I’m sleeping with Tony tonight," I heard her tell John. I wasn’t sure who it was, and I wasn’t about to get up to see. But I was awake and could of course hear everything. And I had a lot to hear all night. They were at it all night long, and didn’t leave until before 7:00 in the morning. After they left I finally got some sleep until about 11:00.

Brunhilde

Sunday after the service at Nolli I got together with Brunhilde, and we went to her apartment together for the first time. We took the 19 bus all the way to Olivaerplatz. The bus was crowded, and we were silent for nearly the whole ride. She seemed troubled about something. We got off at Olivaerplatz on the KuDamm, and then walked a few yards up the Leibnitzstra�e and entered an apartment building. Brunhilde had a Sybelstra�e address. I recognized the neighborhood. Three years earlier I had stayed in a small hotel on the Mommsenstra�e just one street away, during my first Berlin visit with the student group! I thought that was an interesting coincidence.

We entered from Leibnitzstra�e, walked into a Hinterhof, and then a door that led into a narrow stairway. She lived in a Wohngemeinschaft up on the fourth (top) floor. We had to walk up sixteen flights of stairs to get there. Her room was "a mess", she warned, but I found it neat and cheery, even though it was a bit small.

Brunhilde was an artist. Pictures and paintings covered the white walls. Off on one side was an easel with an unfinished painting depicting a spirit-like being escaping from a burning city skyline. Up against the wall was a collage made up of various newspaper and magazine titles. On the other wall was a fascinating little painting of a person sitting on a crescent moon, holding a balloon on a string. I was quite impressed.

Brunhilde immediately began to prepare our meal in the common kitchen, and then showed me some of her photo albums. She had a lot of pictures from the Israel trip, many of them being of Sabine, the cute little blonde girl at Nolli who was her best friend. Another album had pictures from her childhood. Her sister, she explained, was a nun. Her brother was a drunk. Her parents were divorced. It was not a very healthy family. She had studied nursing, graduated in 1970, and now was working as a Kindererzieher in a nearby nursery and day-care center.

The meal of Schnitzel, potatoes, and carrots was very good. We did some more talking, and did some English at the same time. Not only was she a painter, I found out, but also a poet. She showed me a notebook in which she had written a collection of poems. They were actually quite good; some of them seemed over my head.

At 4:00 her brother showed up. He was just a young drop-out, relatively harmless, and good for nothing. He had just reached a crisis in his life, and had come for help. He and Brunhilde had a long talk, and it was obvious that it wasn’t the first one they had had. He agreed to go along to Nolli that night; he also agreed to live in her apartment for two weeks, drink no alcohol, and go to Nolli every night. Those were Brunhilde’s conditions.

At 4:30 we three left for Nolli, and took a taxi. A black choir was there that night, and one of the guys in the choir I recognized as Sgt J., an SP at Marienfelde!

When I got back to the room that night, I found a note on my desk from Steve B. He had locked himself out of his apartment, and wanted me to rescue him. He would be calling back at 10:30. My mind, however, was on Brunhilde.

Steve called again at 10:30 as promised. We met outside at the front gate. It was cold and drizzly that night, but the meeting was very warm. We hadn’t seen each other for so long, and we both had so much to share. I gave him his key, and then we stood there at the gate under his umbrella talking for a long while, catching up on each other’s lives. He’d been promoted at work, and was doing very well.

Visiting Brunhilde

Monday evening I had an appointment with Brunhilde, and I took the 19 bus straight to Olivaerplatz after getting back to the base. It was a 28 minute ride. She was there to meet me just as I got off the bus, and she took me to her room again. I asked her about her brother, and she told me that he had split. Apparently he didn't have a very strong will, and just drifted back into his old life.

It was a nice evening together with Brunni, but I saw a little more of her negative side that time. She was so unsure of herself, and had such a pessimistic streak about so many things. Supper was a large sandwich she had fixed out of egg, tomatoes, and ham. We talked together some, and then I left at 9:30, and she walked me the entire way back to the bus stop. It was cold and drizzly. I left feeling good about the situation, but rather neutral about Brunni herself.

Mark and the Russian Lady

Tuesday morning it was very dark before work. We were getting deeper and deeper into the German winter, and at that high latitude winter days are extremely short. It was a fairly busy day at work. Mark M. was there sweeping the floors, doing the "Putzfrau" thing. He had been put on permanent Putzfrau just prior to his release; I forget the exact reasons. He told me about an elderly Russian lady in Zehlendorf that he had been visiting regularly to practice his Russian, and wanted to get me together with her. He was going to be leaving Berlin soon, and wanted someone else to carry on the tradition after he was gone. Apparently he had been doing this for some time already, but hadn't told many people, since the "OSI frowns on it." I was tempted, but declined the invitation to go with him on Sunday. I was afraid that the situation would eventually become a burden and a waste of time; however, it would be a beautiful opportunity of practicing my Russian. Mark was very reluctant to give up on me, and tried to get me to change my mind later that day. I finally gave in and agreed to go along with him for one visit on Monday.

Thanksgiving at Marienfelde

Wednesday the 27th was the third day watch. I rearranged my appointment with Mark and the Russian lady, since I realized that next Monday I had to work. It was a moderately busy day at Marienfelde.

Brunni and her brother were at Nolli that night. I went over to her to arrange our next date. We decided on Friday at 5:00. She was in a hurry and didn’t smile.

Thursday the 28th was the last day watch, about as busy as the previous one. There was a Thanksgiving dinner at work today, with large quantities of bananas, grapes, and apples. I took a couple bananas back to the line, and drew some doodles on them. It was so elaborate that it attracted considerable amount of attention from many people. On one I wrote instructions, in German, on "How to Consume the Banana." (Anweisungen zum Verzehren der Banane). I showed it to Sgt. K., and he found it so entertaining that he had me show it to Lt. H.! I took it back tonight on the bus.

Tony and John were gone that evening on their first swing. It was a cold, lonely evening alone in the room. There was no one to talk with. Tempelhof had become a cold, lonely place since Dan T. and Steve B. left.

Getting to Know Brunhilde

Late Friday afternoon I took the 19 bus to Brunni's place. The bus was crowded again, but this time I got off at the right stop. She wasn't home; a note on her door said she would be back at around 5:30. So I left and took a little walk around the neighborhood. I went up to the Mommsenstra�e and saw the Pension where I had stayed as a student in 1971, and then turned back down to Olivaerplatz and walked back. At 5:20 she was there.

She opened a can of Chinese lichees for us to eat, and then we had our brief English lesson. It was still hard to get her to speak English out loud, but when she did, I noticed that her pronunciation was very natural. She was nevertheless very self-conscious. When I tried to encourage her she admitted that she did have the ability, but that she was merely too lazy to study.

Saturday the 30th I went to Brunni's at 4:00 as planned. She had a snack of cakes and tea prepared for us, and on the table was a brand-new candle. Her brother was out drunk again, she said. I asked her why she thought Volkhard had chosen me to work with her. I was "ausgeglichen", i.e., stable and balanced, she said. Previously three guys had tried to marry her, and Volkhard trusted me that I wouldn't be like that.

After church on Sunday, December 1st, Brunni was acting funny. She was so quiet and solemn. It was as if a dark cloud was hovering over her all afternoon. She wouldn't smile or even look in my direction. I had invited her over to eat at the chow hall on base that afternoon. She was wearing glasses today, and looked so different. Afterwards we went over to the Skyrider and talked. She seemed so depressed and disturbed.

I found out how shy she really was inside. I had invited her to see Steve B., and she was afraid. She was even afraid of meeting me last month. We left at 3:15, and got on the 19 bus. The bus windows were all foggy and steamed up. I went to Nolli, but she went straight home.

My Introduction to Aleksandra

Tuesday the 3rd was a beautiful sunny day. That was surprising, since we hadn't seen the sun in a very long time. Today I had the date with Mark M. to go and visit the Russian lady down in Zehlendorf, and so I met him at 11:00 in the chow hall.

After lunch we set out. (On the way we met Don O., now a long-haired civilian.) We took the 4 bus from the Flughafen to Hauptstra�e, where we caught the 48 down to the Zehlendorf area. From there we took the 18 bus a short ride down to Spanische Allee, south of Schlachtensee, and walked to the rest home, which was located on a street named "an den Hubertsh�usern." It was a long ride, and we didn't get there until 12:40 or so. We had a long talk on the way there.

The "Haus Elisabeth" was a rest home established, if I remember correctly, by funds donated by Russian royalty, for the purpose of caring for Russian emigres. The people there, nearly all women, were about two thirds Russian, and the rest were local Germans. The lady we were visiting lived in room 313 on the second floor. Her name was Aleksandra Nikolayevna Maslennikova. She was an extremely old and frail white-haired lady who spoke with a broken voice. She was very difficult to listen to at first, since her voice cracked continually, but with time one could understand her without too much difficulty. She had a very sweet and friendly personality. Mark got along with her very well, and they had had many long talks in the past. Apparently they had met through another lady who had met Mark at the Amerika Haus, and had gotten them together. Mark was a pianist, and had played some informal piano concerts for the people in the home.

Aleksandra offered us some tea and cakes, and then we began our long chat. She was a very nice lady, and reminded me somewhat of my own grandmother. It was great for my Russian; I could feel it coming back strongly again.

We left at around 3:00, and took the long bus trek back to base. On the way Mark, to my surprise, told me of his dislike for the Germans. We then got on the subject of my future rooming situation, and he told me of the drug "subculture" at TCA. He believed that Randy M. was a part of it. The more we talked about it, the creepier it became for me.

We arrived on base, just as the flag was being lowered, and ate supper together. He then took me to inspect his room, the same room that I was planning to share with Randy, as soon as he and "Mouse" moved out. After listening to all of Mark's talk and seeing the room, I really started getting the creeps. The thought of living with "Mouse" for the interim gave me a very bad feeling.

Brunni Meets Steve

Friday afternoon I left for Brunni's place at 4:30. I had invited her over to meet my friend Steve B. in Neuk�lln. I arrived shortly before she herself appeared, walking up the long flights of stairs behind me. It took her about ten minutes to get ready, and then we left for Steve’s place. I asked her how her week had been. "Horrible," she replied, and started smoking.

We got on the 19 bus and took the U-Bahn to Steve's, arriving at around 6:20. Steve was there alone, and was all animated and hyperactive. I was afraid he would be too much for Brunni to take, but, to my surprise, they seemed to get along quite well. We set about making supper, and Steve had all three of us get involved. Brunni was quite the cook.

Steve and I got to talking about my future, and I was really worried that I had no practical knowledge for living. I knew nothing of cooking, housekeeping, or any of the basic activities of maintaining a living. Brunhilde seemed bored, but of course denied it.

She and I left at around 11:00. On the way back I asked her of her impression of Steve. "Very religious," she replied. For the rest of the ride she was very quiet.

By the time I got back to the room I was very discouraged about the whole matter. She seemed so good and perfect in some respects, but in other respects just the opposite. Coupled with the concerns about my future in general, it made for a really depressing situation.

That night Tony came into the room at about 3:00. That same girl was with him again, and they were making noise for a while. John then came in at around 5:20. Needless to say, I didn't get much sleep. My mind was still occupied with Brunhilde.

A Bad Day

Saturday the 7th was the first day watch. It was a bad one. I was tired, cross, and depressed, and was acting very carelessly. I took along one of Steve's books to read, but found it uninteresting. I went over to the "swamp" area to catch a few winks, but was roused by Paul C. and Randy M. Some brass was visiting the site - a few colonels and an ex-general.

I talked a long while at the dinner table with Gary H. Hector and some jeeps got a hit that afternoon. I was perturbed how some of those lazy jeeps would get so much time off.

I was very tired when I got back to the room. I felt like staying in and sleeping, but went to Nolli instead. I was feeling grumpy. After coming back that night, just before I went to bed, John came in a little drunk. He started playing his music loud, and I went over and lent him my earphones. He was whistling and singing along to the music even with the earphones on, and I asked him to knock it off. He just told me to "go to hell." I was very angry, but there was nothing I could do. This was the one bad experience with John that I always remembered. He probably had no recollection of it the next morning, since he was probably not even conscious at the time.

A Worse Day...

The bad experience of the night before helped make Sunday's day watch one of the worst days at work I had ever had. I started out in a bad mood, angry and frustrated about the rooming situation. At Marienfelde I felt like escaping from everything. I took naps in all of my hiding places. Then Sgt. K. had me go do mess check in the lunch room, and when I got there I found that someone else was already doing it. That ruffled my feathers. When I got back to the line I found that Randy M. had inadvertently crumpled up a picture I had been drawing and wanted to save, and I lost my temper. All day long I was dreading the coming night, where and how I was going to get any sleep. If things weren't already bad enough, I had a terrible experience at the end of the day, just to top things off. I was in the middle of some important work, and everyone was watching over my shoulder. When it was finished, I was to process it right away. But then to my horror I discovered that I had forgotten something important, and it was all lost. All of that important stuff, and it was all gone! After the way I had been acting that day, I was sure that I was going to get into some serious trouble. I retreated to the latrine, collected my thoughts, and then went back and started acting a little more contritely.

I had a date with Brunni that night, and was afraid how it would turn out. I was hoping she wouldn't be as depressed as the last time, or that would make two of us.

...But a Great Evening

I arrived and rang the doorbell. She opened the door. Right away I could tell things were okay. She was singing to herself, happy and smiling. Her hair was fixed up. She was in a very cheerful mood, and proceeded to fix us both a wonderful meal of pork chops, potatoes, and red cabbage. It turned out to be a fantastic night together, the best time we'd ever had. After the terrible experiences of the day I felt like I was in heaven.

She had been at her mother's place all weekend, she said, and had written a new poem. Her mother laughed at it. I read it and found it very good. It was another one of her romantic poems, very colorful and sensuous, written to or about some mystery person whom she didn't identify, and I didn't ask. It spoke of "your hand in mine," and ended with the phrase, "You left, leaving only the sound (Verhallen) of your footsteps in my mind."

I gave her some of the doodles I had been drawing recently, and she loved them. She got out her guitar and sang for me. We talked about many things that night, and it was such a pleasant evening that all the bad experiences of the previous 24 hours seemed wiped away with a single stroke. We talked about poetry and exchanged birthdays. She told me that I "should get married" so that someone could cook for me.

I finally left around 10:30 that night. I didn't want to leave - I wanted to stay there with Brunni. I sensed that she was enjoying the time just as much as I was, and hated to see me leave also. As I left, she was afraid that I wouldn't find the way, but I assured her that I would. I went down the long stairway, and out into the Hinterhof. Then I looked up to her window. There was her silhouette, looking down at me in a wistful, dreamy way. She was making some clicking sounds with her mouth as I waved good-bye.

Looking back on the brief romance with Brunhilde, December 8th was definitely one of the highlights.

The Long-Anticipated Move to G-2

On Monday there was no mention of Sunday's fiasco at work - except from Gary H. who gave me a good ribbing.

Wednesday the 11th through Friday the 13th was my three-day break. On Wednesday I had been planning to move out of the hangars into Mark’s old room in G-2. The big moment had finally arrived.

Tuesday night I had spent packing until 2:00 a.m., and worrying about whether things would turn out all right or not. Officially, I had not yet been informed whether the move had been approved. It was such a touch-and-go situation, especially with such volatile people as Archy G. as the First Sergeant being in charge.

Wednesday morning I went down to the orderly room to see about the move. A WAF SSgt was there, and she told me that I would have to see a SSgt K. first, and then have the room inspected before I could think about moving. Later I found the guy, and he came over to inspect the room. Everything looked okay. He gave me M.’s old key, with instructions to bring back my old key that afternoon between 3:00 and 3:30. So far, so good. Now all I had to do was get everything moved.

I spent all that forenoon moving over boxes of junk. After lunch I waited around for Randy to show up as promised, but he never did. So I continued moving by myself, and did that all afternoon. I ran into Randy, who told me he had been delayed, and wouldn't be able to show up until 4:30.

After supper, he finally arrived to help me out, and we finished the move in two more trips, finishing just before 6:00. It was very hard work, and I feared that he was beginning to regret having volunteered to help out.

"Mouse" had come back from a day watch, but soon left after we gone the moving done. I then had some time to arrange things in my half of the room before rushing off to Nolli.

A Heart-to-Heart Talk with Volkhard

I left the room in a hurry, and just barely caught the 6:58 subway train at the Flughafen.

Volkhard Spitzer was back from his trip to Seattle. His message was very good and encouraging, and he had some stories to tell from his USA trip. I was wanting very much to have a chat with him about Brunhilde, and after the meeting I mentioned it to him. He agreed heartily, and added that he was thinking of having a talk with me as well. So that was all set.

I stayed around after the meeting, waiting for the talk with Volkhard. In typical manner, he was busy with a million other things, and it turned out to be a very long wait. Hans B. was there, dressed up in a red suit, looking very sharp. The wait for Volkhard lasted so long that I was almost tempted to leave. But then at around 10:30 he came out and grabbed me.

Volkhard and I had a private talk there for about fifteen minutes. It was conducted entirely in English. (Volkhard had an excellent command of American English, and even prefered speaking English to German whenever the situation presented itself.) I was a bit awed, since this was my very first time being completely alone with Volkhard Spitzer. It turned out to be a very good, and much-needed talk. I explained to him how I felt about Brunhilde, and how attractive she was to me. He told me that I needed to be a good friend to her, but "don't go too far." As far as my attraction to her was concerned, he advised me just to be open about it.

I had been a bit anxious about how Volkhard would react to my "confessions", and was surprised that he didn't react negatively. In fact, he almost seemed pleased with the new developments. He went so far as to say that "in a very gentle, careful way," I could "tell her that I love her"; but for the time being I should "play it cool" and just be a friend. He was now curious to find out what was going on in Brunhilde's mind, and mentioned that he would try to find an opportunity of talking with her as well.

I was a very happy fellow as I left his office and headed down the stairs and out into the street to the U-Bahn station. It had been a very positive talk with Volkhard, and there were definite possibilities with Brunhilde.

In G-2 At Last!

I got back shortly before midnight. "Mouse" was in bed. The first thing that I noticed was that it was so quiet in the new room. There was no roar of traffic as in the hangars; just the ticking of a clock, and an occasional drunk stumbling around outside. Even my new bed seemed more comfortable. I was very thankful that I had finally made it to G-2, after all those hectic months in the hangars. The Tony-and-John situation was now forever a thing of the past. My days of living in the hangars were permanently ended.

Thursday morning I went down to the orderly room and turned in my old key. The move was officially completed. What a relief!

"Mouse"

"Mouse" came into the room that night, expressing in his dry poker-face manner his dislike of locked doors. I had been locking the door, and he apparently never carried a key.

Friday morning "Mouse" woke up at around 5:30 and began chain-smoking. This is an experience I will never forget. I had seen smokers before, but "Mouse" was definitely the most extreme case. The sound of his lighter woke me up, and the pungent smell of the smoke kept me awake. I could hear him intermittently sucking away on his cigarette, and puffing out the smoke. All it took was one cigarette to cloud up a small room such as ours. Ten minutes later, another cigarette! He was still in bed, and he hadn't turned on the light. He hadn't gotten up, and he was already on his second cigarette. The smoke became thicker and more biting. Suck - puff - suck - puff. About ten more minutes passed. "Click." A third cigarette! I couldn't believe it. This time, though, he started getting out of bed. Three cigarettes, first thing in the morning! He proceeded to get dressed, and then ambled off to breakfast.

Lingering billows of cigarette smoke wouldn't let me sleep after he left, and so I got up out of bed. I looked out the window. It was still dark, but something looked oddly bright on the ground. Snow! It had snowed during the night, and there were a couple inches on the ground. It was the first snow of the year.

"Mouse" came back from breakfast. "My, you're an early riser," he commented. "I'm just a light sleeper," I replied.

Aleksandra Nikolayevna Maslennikova

After "Mouse" left for work, I caught up on some sleep, and got up in the forenoon. I ate lunch, and then left for my appointment with Aleksandra down in Zehlendorf.

It was a clear, sunny day, and the streets were all covered with snow. The Botanical Gardens looked like a fairy-land as we drove past. I pictured myself walking through the snowy trees there together with Brunhilde some day.

I arrived at the Haus Elisabeth at around 12:30, and went up to Aleksandra's room. She had been expecting me, and so I knew that Mark's message had reached her. She had tea and cakes ready for me. She had gotten some apple strudel, and before I got to eat a bite, she poured a little Eierlik�r on it. This practice seemed a bit strange to me at the time, but during subsequent visits I became accustomed to it, and eventually even began to enjoy it.

Quiet and frail as she looked, Aleksandra was actually a very fascinating person. She told me the story of her life, how she had grown up in St. Petersburg in czarist Russia, and left Odessa in 1918 during the Russian Revolution while her husband was there on medical leave, and arrived in Berlin in 1922. It was a fascinating story, which I later captured on tape. I realized I was talking with a piece of history. Here was a lady who had grown up during the time of the czars, and had never set foot in "Soviet" Russia. She still wrote and read the old orthography, and her handwriting was always a bit difficult for me to decipher, with all of the "yat"s and "hard signs" that had been eliminated with the new alphabet.

This was the first of a series of visits with Aleksandra throughout my years in Berlin. It was a fascinating and unique experience. I always felt a bit burdened with the visits, since she lived so far away, and I would always have to find the time and energy to spend a whole afternoon with an old lady. But I was always glad to have taken the time when the visit was over, and my experiences as a young man in Berlin were all the richer for it.

Aleksandra Nikolayevna Maslennikova, born Voyennokhovskaya, grew up in St. Petersburg. Her address, she once told me, was Zhukovskaya Ulitsa, No. 55 (or maybe 50 - she didn't remember exactly). During her youth she worked as an actress in a travelling theater troupe, and traveled the width and breadth of the country during their many tours. She even wrote a play herself at one time, called "Vozrozhdenie," i.e., "Regeneration," which was performed in the "Narodni Dom" theater in 1914, two weeks prior to the beginning of the War. It had some scene in it where everyone was dressed up as various kinds of fowl; she chuckled to herself as she described it to me. Her father had been a land owner, and had peasant serfs who worked for him. It was a story straight from a Turgenev or Tolstoy novel. Her father had been involved in a popular liberal movement called "Khozhdenie v narod," "Going to the people", where enlightened landowners tried to break the century-old class barriers between landowners and peasants. "Khozhdenie v narod," she pronounced importantly, chuckling to herself again.

One winter morning in St. Petersburg her husband slipped and fell, breaking some bones. The doctor prescribed a cure at one of the medicinal hot springs in the south of Russia, near Odessa. Just at that time the political unrest of the Bolshevik Revolution was brewing, and travel was severely restricted, but due to the medical nature of their trip, they managed to obtain permission to travel.

While in Odessa the situation in the country worsened. Travel back to their home in St. Petersburg gradually became an impossibility. And then one evening her husband was unusually late in coming home. When he finally arrived he told her some alarming news. Notices had been posted all over the city, declaring that all non-permanent residents were being ordered to leave. The city was being evacuated. A steamer was awaiting them on the Black Sea, and they were to pack up only what they could themselves carry, and report to the ship early the next morning.

Thus began their departure from Russia, a trip that forever separated Aleksandra from her homeland. After a few turbulent years in the Balkans, they eventually ended up in Berlin on December 23, 1922, and she had been living there ever since. She never went back to Russia, even to visit.

Aleksandra's room was cluttered with old books, furniture, and pictures. A Russian icon hung on the wall. She had quite a collection of Russian books, including a complete set of a Russian encyclopedia, published in the early 1900's. It was a stunningly beautiful set - absolutely magnificent, all written in the old orthography. I always coveted that encyclopedia, and hoped that some day I would be able to buy it from her. But it wasn't meant to be. Many years later, after Aleksandra had been removed from the home and taken to a hospital, all of her belongings disappeared. She had had a nephew or grandson in southern Germany, who worked for Radio Free Europe. I can only imagine that he ended up with that encyclopedia, but perhaps it ended up in some used bookstore.

Marienfelde Snowball Fight

Saturday the 14th at lunch I sat with John H. and John I., who had only about three days left in the Air Force.

That night's swing was dead. Hector and Gary were kidding me about Brunni again. Gary said he was convinced I would be married within two years. There was a snowball fight outside, with Gary and myself pitted against four guys standing up on the roof. Later inside Sgt. Derry F. accidentally messed up my glasses during some tomfoolery. They didn't smash, but were bent up; he then bent them back into shape as well as he could. That strengthened my resolve to get new glasses soon.

Brunni the Poet

Sunday morning the 15th I went to Nolli, and sat between Ralf and Detlev. Before Volkhard's sermon I looked around and saw where Sabine was sitting. Brunhilde was there, and we noticed each other over the sea of heads and smiled at each other. Afterwards Brunni asked me if I was free that afternoon. Paul C. had given me a hit, and so we agreed to meet at her place at 4:30. Ralf was coming over to the base with me with three friends at lunchtime. Only one of them showed up, and he forgot his ID, and so Ralf just went off with him and called the whole thing off.

That evening I went to Brunni's as planned. I spent five hours at Brunni's that night, and the time simply flew by. It was a wonderful time together. We didn't do anything in particular, and just talked. It was so pleasant that I just wanted to stay and stay.

I noticed that she had tacked up my doodle on the wall over her desk. I gave her the two crumpled ones I had made at work, and she was delighted. She promptly took out an iron, and smoothed them out. I expressed admiration for her Israeli candelabra that she had bought while in Israel, and she immediately gave it to me! She explained that she needed to get rid of most of her possessions anyway, if she was going off to America.

Past 9:00 I started getting ready to leave, very reluctantly, since I had to do mess check that night. As I was walking through the Hinterhof, I looked up at her silhouette in the window again. Just like last week, she made some clicking sounds as I waved good-bye.

Brunni had lent me her notebook of poems that night, and I read through them all on the bus ride back to base, and at mess check. They were fantastic. I found myself overwhelmed by Brunhilde that night. Up to that point I was very attracted to her, but by now I was aware that I was falling head over heels in love.

I was in a cloud as I went to mess check, but after about three hours of sitting there, my feet got back on the ground. I had brought along "Ruslan and Ludmila" in Russian to read, as well as Brunni's notebook. Steve Ch. came in to talk with me. Ruth the cook came over and sat with us, and told of her experiences during World War II in Berlin, and how they hid from the Russians in the subway tunnels. She spoke German this time, a beautifully pure Berlin dialect.

"Mouse" stayed up that night chain-smoking until 3:30 a.m. Normally all that smoke would really have bothered me, but that night I was too happy to get upset.

Monday the 16th I spent typing out all of Brunni's poems. They really were quite good. Nearly all of them had a romantic twist of some sort, and several of them plainly referred to an unidentified person. This always intrigued and bothered me, but Brunni always insisted that the person was entirely fictional. At least one of them referred to a person named "petit." The opening line of one of those poems went, "Komm petit und la�t uns tr�umen, von dem weiten fernen Land,…", i.e., "Come, petit, and let us dream about that faraway land…"

Sadly to say, all of those poems are now lost. In February I gave her all the typewritten copies I had made. The only one I managed to keep intact was the short one she wrote to me during Christmas break, and it wasn't among her best efforts. Many times over the years I have thought about those poems, and how interesting it would have been had I kept them for posterity. But unfortunately it didn't turn out that way, and if I know anything about Brunhilde, she probably eventually disposed of the originals herself. Today, apart from the "Christmas" poem, all I have are just the very few fragments that I have managed to remember throughout the years. Ironically, even as one fragment itself says, all that is left is "only the sound of your footsteps echoing in my mind."

The Pit

Monday night was the third swing. They were looking for volunteers to tour the "pit", the mysterious radar room over at TCA that was off limits for anyone who didn't work there. I volunteered, as did Hector and a couple others. Also, I volunteered for mess check so that I wouldn't have to go back; but as it turned out, we didn't have to go back anyway.

So that evening I finally got to enter the "pit". This was a small radar facility in a secure area on base. I had seen the door many times. There was a panel of buttons where a code had to be entered in order for the door to open. We were let in, and had our tour. It was interesting at first, but quickly became very old. The room itself was very small, hidden behind a black curtain, behind which a couple guys huddled in front of radar screens.

We left past 9:00. I went to Hector's room and saw his stuff, and then he came down to see mine. He immediately fell in love with "Mouse's" mouse. He thought it was so cute and adorable; it was about all he could look at. I found that a little odd. I didn't particularly care for the mouse. "Mouse's" cigarette smoke stank up the room terribly, but the mouse smell made it even worse.

I went to mess check that night. Sgt. S. the mess sergeant showed me their basement and their meat storage area afterwards. He seemed to be taking a liking to me for some reason. Even George seemed to like me a little. It found that all so weird.

Weird Weather

Tuesday the 17th I went over to BB on the TCA express bus. I was doing a little shopping in anticipation of the date with Brunni on Wednesday. I came back to base on the U-Bahn. When I came back around 12:00 the weather started getting strange. It got very dark, and there was thunder and lightning. Then there was a heavy rainfall, followed by a kind of hail and snow combination. At the base BX I ran into an angry and sputtering Gary H., who had just lost his fatigue cap in the storm, and was not very happy about having to buy a new one. By the time I was done and was going back to my room, it was all bright and sunny, and the ground was covered with snow!

There was a boring commander's call that afternoon before work.

The last swing was busy for a while. Sgt. K. was upset at many of the new jeeps knowing anything about the job. Hector was indifferent. "All the Air Farce means to me is 361 days," he scoffed.

Wednesday, December 18th, 1974

Wednesday, December 18th was the break day between swings and days. I was very much looking forward to this day. Brunni and I were going to spend a whole day together. She was going to be taking me to the Funkturm, and I was looking forward to taking her to the Botanical Gardens. I was hoping very much that the weather would turn out favorably.

Unfortunately, the weather that day was terrible. When I left for Brunni's at 11:00 it was cloudy, windy, and raining. I arrived at her place at 11:30. She was wearing her long black dress and red sweater with the "B" pin. We exchanged Christmas gifts, since it was going to be one of our last times together before she left on Saturday to spend Christmas with her nun sister in West Germany.

Brunni seemed a bit sad about the weather, but there was nothing to be done about it. So we left her place around 12:00, and headed up to the nursery where she worked to drop off some keys. We sloshed along the wet sidewalks, huddled together under my black umbrella. My shoes were not very good in the rain that day, and got completely soaked. They were like a sieve, and were very uncomfortable.

We walked inside the nursery, and Brunni turned in the keys and had a short chat with some of her co-workers, all women. My glasses fogged up when we got into the warm room, and I couldn't see very well. The girls there were very amused that we were going to the Funkturm in such ghastly weather.

But we went anyway. I was very happy to be together with Brunni that day, in spite of how bad the weather may have been, or how uncomfortable my shoes were. I could sense that Brunni felt the same.

Upon arriving at the Funkturm, we discovered that the ride to the top level was closed. So we settled for eating at a restaurant about halfway up. We were about the only people in the whole place. It was a very romantic time together, in spite of the gloomy weather. The food was good, but terribly expensive. Brunni, to my horror, insisted on paying for everything, and took care of it with the waiter before I could say anything. The bill was 34 Marks!

From the Funkturm we left to go to the Botanical Gardens. We walked together in the wind and rain to the bus stop. I was holding the umbrella, and then she said, "So ist richtig," i.e., "So is right", and took my left arm, and snuggled up to me nice and cozy. I was a little surprised, since it was the first sign of open affection from her. I enjoyed it immensely, but tried not to show any emotion, remembering Volkhard’s admonitions. So there we were, in public, arm in arm, walking through the winds and rain. "If only Gary or Hector saw us now," I thought to myself.

We rode to the Botanical Gardens. I hadn’t been there since the summer of 1973. Brunni again insisted on paying for both of us, and we went in. It was a very nice time, but would have been much nicer had the weather been friendlier. We went to the greenhouses, where we took pictures of each other. Brunni at first resisted the idea of having her picture taken, complaining that she didn’t photograph well. I dismissed that notion as nonsense, and took some photos of her that I thought would turn out well. (Weeks later when I saw the results, it turned out that Brunhilde was right after all. None of them were particularly good, and none of them even looked like her.) At 3:15 the greenhouses closed, and we had to go out onto the grounds. We took a walk through some of the woods there, and at a pavilion I took what I hoped would be a very nice photo of her.

Eventually it got quite dark, and we left, and headed back to her apartment. At Olivaerplatz she took us into a neighborhood bakery, where she chose some pastries for a snack. Finally, we returned to the room, and settled down to eat and relax. She turned off all the lights, lit the candle I had brought her, and put on a Mozart record. She was glowing with delight. I of course shared her feelings. We just spent some time together, sitting across from each other, and passing the time in each other’s presence. It was a very nice, warm time together, a special time of which I have very fond memories.

In spite of the weather, it had been a very nice day with Brunhilde. Looking back on the Brunhilde experience, December 18th was a particularly memorable date, one that has stood out in my memory for well over twenty years.

In Love

Thursday was a busy day watch. We were a little short on staff, which made things worse. I was still riding a high from yesterday's date, and was a little bolder with Hector and Gary in revealing my true feelings about Brunhilde. Friday the 20th was another busy day at work. I found out that day that I was finally going to be promoted to sergeant on the first of January.

That evening I got a letter from Steve B., who said he would be in Paris at Christmas, and he hoped that everything was going well between Brunni and me. When I got back to the room, Bobby A. told me I had gotten a phone call from a girl, and she would call back half an hour later. Thirty minutes later Brunni called. She asked me if I was going to Nolli that night. I had originally been planning to go to the One Way House, but decided to talk with Volkhard instead. She was glad to hear I was going.

I went that night, and sat up in the front row, right in front of Volkhard. Brunni came. She and I were planning on going out to the pizzeria afterwards. She was going to be leaving for West Germany the next day, and we so wouldn't be seeing each other until after Christmas. I caught Volkhard, and we had our talk, while Brunni waited outside the office.

It lasted only about fifteen minutes, but it was one fantastic talk. I started it out, telling him in a very awkward manner how my feelings had grown twice as large since the last time we had talked on December 11. Then Volkhard gave his reply, and I was bracing for what was coming. I was expecting him to come out with an admonition to cool it for a while, but what he said was completely unexpected and seemed like a dream. "Now this is something that I wouldn't normally do," he started out, "but there's something special about this. I think Brunni would make a nice girl for you." I was dazed. "Brunni had come and talked with me, and told me exactly the same things about you. She feels very attracted to you, unlike anything that she's experienced before." He explained that she told him that in the past she could get any guy she wanted by "turning on her tricks," but she was finding she couldn't do that with me. "So I think it would be nice if you could show her that you love her," he continued. "Ever since she's met you, there's been something different in her life, something very promising that wasn't there before. Show her love," said Volkhard, "and I believe she'll begin to grow quickly, and she'll make a very nice wife for you…"

I literally floated out of the room. My face all smiles, I took Brunni to the pizzeria. I wanted to tell her all my talk with Volkhard, but didn't know how. Some of my Nolli friends were starting to come into the pizzeria, and I decided that I had better tell her then and there while I had the chance. So I told her that I had spoken with Volkhard, and that I felt the same way about her as she did about me. She said nothing - just quietly smiled and looked off into the distance. She was so beautiful that night. Her eyes were sparkling in the candlelight. She had such small, delicate features. But she remained silent. I prompted her for a response, and asked her if she understood what I was talking about, and she said yes, but didn't elaborate. I sensed that she was too deeply moved to reply.

We just sat together there and talked until 11:00. We decided to walk back to her apartment together that night, all the way down the KuDamm. It was drizzling very lightly, and my shoes got utterly soaked again. But in spite of the elements, it was a very romantic walk. I wanted so much to hold her close, but was still too shy.

When we got to her place, she apologized for the "mess." I told her about my upcoming promotion to sergeant, and she offered to sew my new sergeant stripes onto my uniforms. "Ich bin bereit, alles f�r dich zu tun. Glaubst du mir nicht?" ("I'm ready to do anything for you. Don't you believe me?")

After a nice time at her place I looked at my watch and saw that it was time to go. Brunni accompanied me to the bus stop. It was our last time together in 1974, since she was leaving at 10:00 the next morning to visit her nun sister in Bonn for the holidays. I felt that I should say something nice to her before the bus came to take me away, but I didn't know how to express myself. A 29 bus came and went. A 19 bus would soon be coming. Finally I told her, "I am no poet, and don't know how to express myself nicely," and continued, "But I think you're very nice, and I'd like you to know that." I hoped she got the message. My bus came. We shook hands, and I got in. As the bus left, I waved to her from the window.

On Cloud Nine

I didn't get back to the room that night until about 1:00 a.m. I was floating on a cloud again. "Mouse" was restless, and I didn't sleep very soundly. He came into the room, left, and then returned around 6:00 a.m., and went to bed, just as I was getting up.

Saturday was the third day watch. I took a picture of Brunni along to work, and had my mind on her all day long. I was in love. How was I going to survive the next ten days without seeing her? It turned out to be a busy day. That evening after work I didn't do much, my mind was so occupied with her.

Sunday the 22nd was the last day watch. It was a rather dead day. Several people got hits, including Dot C. and Cliff K.. Pat, the redheaded WAF, was getting married to one of the SP's, either that day or the day before.

That day I told Gary H. that he was probably right after all about Brunhilde and me, that it was now more than just English lessons. Gary repeated his conviction to me that we would be getting married in 1976 in the USA, and I for once started believing him. Jim L. wanted to invite me over to his home over Christmas break, and contacted me that afternoon, inviting me over for Monday night.

With Jim and Carolyn in the Dahlem Villa

Monday afternoon, December 23rd, I took the U-Bahn to the Oskar-Helene-Heim station to meet Jim L. It was a clear, cloudless evening, very nice, but vexing to me that the weather had been so bad the week before while I was with Brunni. Upon arriving at the Oskar-Helene-Heim station, I ran into a friend from Nolli. Jim was there waiting there are the U-Bahn station for me.

Jim drove me over to the house where he and his wife were staying. The owners were on vacation, and they were house-sitting while they were gone. It was a very fancy home, located in the Dahlem district of southwest Berlin, and for Berlin standards it was a plush mansion. Jim was a little disappointed that I hadn't brought someone along. So was I. Brunni would have been a wonderful companion for me that evening.

It turned out to be a very pleasant, quiet, comfortable evening. Jim and his wife Carolyn were very hospitable hosts, and were clearly interested in seeing to it that I had a nice time there. I browsed through some Berlin picture books in the house, and then Jim and I played a chess game until suppertime. Carolyn prepared for us a meal of ham, beans, tomatoes, cauliflower, rolls, and lemonade. Afterwards Jim and I took the two dogs, Fran and Okie, out for a walk, and checked the neighboring house, which belonged to the same property and was also vacant.

It was such a stunningly beautiful winter evening. The sky was perfectly clear, the moon was shining brightly, and it wasn't particularly cold. How much I wished that Brunni could have been with me at that moment!

When we went back in Jim and Carolyn invited me over again, and welcomed any other guest. "It's such a nice place and it should be shared," he explained.

For the rest of the evening, Jim played a record with a Christmas story, and gave me a text in which to follow along. It was "Amahl and the Night Visitors". I can still picture myself there that night in the large, spacious, comfortable living room of the Dahlem villa, in front of a crackling fire in the fireplace, listening to the narration on the record player with Jim.

Carolyn fed me some pie and tea, and then past 10:00 Jim drove me back to the U-Bahn station. There I found a lot of people from the base who were apparently coming back from some large party. I got back to the room at 11:30, and went to bed at around midnight. It had been a very pleasant evening at Jim's, and I was eagerly looking forward to a chance to return with Brunni.

Love Letters

Tuesday the 24th was another nice, sunny day. I spent most of it alone in the room. I went to pick up my mail, and to my surprise found six letters – two of them from Brunhilde!

She was now at her sister's monastery in Bonn. The first letter was written on Saturday the 21st, and the second, the longer of the two, was written late Sunday night. In the first one she mentioned about Friday night at the pizzeria. "I don't know if you noticed it, but you made me very happy yesterday when you said that Volkhard said, …etc., 'and I like you too.'" I about burst with joy when I read those lines.

The second letter was five pages long. It started out with a poem that she had just written:

Mir war als tr�umte ich,
da� ich Deine Augen sah.
Mir war als f�hlte ich,
Deine Hand auf meinem Haar.
Mir war als h�rte ich,
Dich meinen Namen nennen.

Doch leider ist's nicht wahr,
weil uns Tr�ume trennen
Und so bleibt mir nur
der sanfte Hauch des Windes,
der eben dein Gesicht gek��t,
und das St�hnen der Natur
In der Finsternis.

A literal English translation would be as follows:

It seemed to me that I dreamed
that I saw your eyes.
It seemed to me that I felt
your hand on my hair.
It seemed to me that I heard
you calling my name.

But unfortunately it's not true,
because dreams separate us,
And so all that I have left
is the gentle breath of the wind
that has just kissed your face
and the groaning of nature
in the darkness.

Following the poem was a very nice letter about her stay in Bonn with her sister, and all the complications and problems of living there. At one point she wrote, "You know, it wasn't very nice that I was always looking at you, but now I can remember each one of your movements and facial expressions. Should I not be saying this?"

The rest of the day I was under the spell of Brunni's letters. I was also a little concerned about that evening's visit with Rudi’s family, whether or not I should get presents for them. I finally decided not to.

Christmas Eve at Rudi's

I went to Nolli at 5:00 that evening for the Christmas Eve service, led by M�ller. The service was very nice. Afterwards I found Rudi, who drove me, his wife, his son Carstie, and an old woman up to the northern part of Berlin. He dropped the old woman off at her apartment building, and then we sped off to a modern high-rise apartment complex in the Waldmannslust district of Reinickendorf.

It was a nice, modern, clean-looking neighborhood. Rudi was a policeman by profession, which always seemed a bit curious to me, since he was by no means a large muscular man. Their apartment was very nice. I was surprised and ashamed to find that they had gotten presents for me. I got a book, a record, some candy, and some stationery. I didn't really know what to say or how to react. They didn't seem to mind that I came empty-handed. In fact, Rudi was such a selfless and giving person that it didn't seem to matter at all. I still feel guilty about that night, though, that I didn't bring anything.

We had a supper by candlelight with his wife, a silent, unsmiling woman about his age, and his equally unsmiling blond 3-year-old son Carsten. Rudi was never very big on smiles himself, but he had one of the biggest hearts I have even seen. I owe much to Rudi during my brief years in Berlin. He did a lot of things for me and went out of his way to serve. I have never forgotten his kindness toward me.

Rudi and I then talked in the living room together. We talked about Nolli, about his police work, and about my own experiences here in Berlin and at Nolli. Afterwards he, his wife, and I played a game, and then Rudi suggested I stay at their place overnight, and go with them to Nolli the next morning. I gratefully accepted the invitation.

So that night I slept on their couch, getting to bed some time before midnight. It had been a very nice, pleasant evening. I slept very well, and my dreams were full of the evening's happenings, and of images of Brunhilde.

Christmas Day 1974

Christmas morning, Wednesday, December 25th, I woke up in Rudi’s living room at around 8:15. It was another clear, sunny day. I went over to their balcony and looked around. Now that it was daylight I could get a better idea of where we were. The whole area was occupied by tall, modern-looking apartment buildings.

Carstie was up and around, and I showed him the sun rising in the east. The four of us had a breakfast of tea and German cakes, and then at past 9:00 we were on our way to Nolli. Rudi drove a red "Golf", and from the very beginning I was a little shocked at his driving style. For American standards he drove very fast, almost recklessly, with swift turns, quick accelerations, and sudden stops. He always drove as if he were in a terrible hurry, and what made it even more odd was his cool and relaxed demeanor and steady conversation while driving.

We first picked up the same lady we had dropped off last night, and after the five of us were snuggly packed into the little car, we sped off to Nollendorfplatz. It was quite a long drive from the north of Berlin, but we arrived right on time.

Volkhard gave a nice sermon. I was in very good spirits that morning. The evening with the family had been so nice, and fact that I had a girlfriend was still flooding my heart with joy. I was so thankful for everything, and it was very special for all of this to be happening right at Christmas.

After the service I rode the 19 bus back to Tempelhof. It was such a beautiful day. At the Flughafen station I got out of the bus, and heard my name being called. I looked up. There was Hector looking down at me from his G-2 window. "Merry Christmas!" he called.

More "Bleeder" Mids

The night following Christmas Day was the first mid. It was Charlie flight's last mid, and "Mouse" was there. I worked all night, and started getting a little groggy toward the end. Some people were coming to me for help with their work. I was pretty exhausted by the end of the shift.

It was a dark and cloudy morning when we got back to base on the morning of Thursday the 26th. When the second mid started (which we shared with Able flight) I was very tired and ready to go to bed. The following morning it was very dark and wet again. I slept in until 12:30 p.m. The third mid was another "bleeder." I was continually drowsing off, and Tom K. had me take a break and get some sleep.

Saturday evening the 28th I went to the Jugendmeeting at Nolli. The weather had turned bad again, and it was cold and wet. Volkhard gave a spectacularly good message that evening. Looking back on the evolution of Volkhard Spitzer as a pastor and speaker, at least during the time that I knew him, I always considered this period of time to be his very best. Not only was he at his peak, but the messages he delivered at the Jugendmeetings on Saturday nights (where his audience was nearly all teenagers and young people) were much better and more natural than the Sunday morning sermons, where he preached to the whole congregation.

That night was the last mid. We wiped out the backlog that night, and then there was nothing to do.

Cakes, Rum, and Tea

Sunday the 29th was a cloudy, rainy day. Monday morning "Mouse" got up early, smoked his cigarettes, and left. It was a clear, bright, cold day. That afternoon I took the bus trip down to Aleksandra’s, arriving at around 1:20. She was waiting for me at the door. She let me in, and we took the elevator one story up to the top floor where she lived, and went to her room. There she had cakes (on which she poured some rum), and tea. I found that I could understand her much better; her cracking voice was a little difficult to get used to. Listening to her speak, I found that Russian was becoming more a means of communication rather than a linguistic novelty, which was one of my goals. Before leaving that afternoon, she got out a bottle of champagne, and had us drink to the New Year. Before leaving at around 4:00, she lent me one of her books that I admired: "Slovo o Slovakh", ("A Word about Words"), a very interesting linguistic treatise written for the layman. (She later ended up letting me keep the book, since I liked it so much.) I left at around 4:00, arriving back at base around 5:00 or 5:30.

New Year's Eve at Nolli

Tuesday the 31st was the first day watch, and a very dead one. A lot of people got hits and went back. Randy M. told me that Archy G. had been through the barracks Monday afternoon; I was glad that I was gone at the time. Roger D. was very "short", a "two-digit midget" in fact, since he only had about two days left. He was wearing these dark glasses and acting strangely.

That day was my last day in the Air Force as an Airman First Class, and I sewed sergeant stripes onto my fatigue jacket that evening. On New Year’s Day I was to work CQ again, and that evening was the big New Year’s Eve service at Nolli. I was feeling a little uneasy about venturing out downtown on New Year’s Eve, with all the craziness that went on at that time of year, and the thought of working CQ all day the next day added to my anxiety.

I left for Nolli at around 8:15, taking my camera. It was a dark, drizzly night. I rode the 19 bus to Nollendorfplatz, and got there safely. The New Year’s celebration at Nolli turned out really well. Everyone was in a happy, festive mood, and I was so glad that I had come. It was a great way to end a great year! At first there was a lot of singing and celebrating, and then the big surprise of the evening came: a slide and tape presentation, put together by J�rgen and Bodo. It was fantastic. I wished so much that I could have had a copy of the whole thing. It covered the entire year 1974 at Nolli, in sights and sounds. There were so many good photos of so many people at Nolli, and of the various highlights of the past year. Even I was in it.

After the slide show there was a coffee break, and I went around with my camera and took some pictures. Sabine was there, and she told me that Brunhilde was coming back Thursday evening, and not today as planned. I told her that I had gotten two letters from her; she said that she hadn’t received any. I noticed that Sabine was such a nice, warm girl, cute, and full of smiles.

Shortly before midnight M�ller gave a short talk, followed by a message from Volkhard. There were muffled sounds of fireworks in the background. 1974 was coming to a close, and the world outside was celebrating with noise and drunken revelry, while all the "Nollianers" were celebrating with sober minds, joyful hearts, and great fellowship. Volkhard’s voice was all the while booming out of the speakers, encouraging us about the coming year.

It was a great way to spend the last few moments of a great year, one that I often look back to fondly as one of my very best.

Part 1 - 1973

Part 2 - 1974 (Jan-Oct)

Part 4 - 1975 (Jan)

Part 5 - 1975 (Feb-Dec)

Part 6 - 1976

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.

Copyright � 1999 by Bill Price

URL = http://www.geocities.com/bprice1949/mari74b.html

introduction | writings | home