Driver's dilemma - Tony Cunnane's Life and Times

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Driver's dilemma

Berlin 1978-80

I took all the photographs on this page in and around West Berlin in 1979-80 (c) Tony Cunnane 1979

The post of second-in-command of an independent military unit in West Berlin had both advantages and drawbacks, as I was to discover one day early in my tour of duty when I had to stand in for my Boss. He was taken ill suddenly at work and was driven to the Berlin Military Hospital by ambulance, but not before he had formally handed over his office keys to me. At the end of work that day I experienced one of the pleasures of the being the acting Boss because, for the very first time, I was able to drive his large and very powerful Opel staff car. Our unit had inherited that unique car from another British military unit that had seen fit to armour plate the under-surface. Because of who currently used it and who had used it in the recent past, that particular Opel was well-known to all the international security and intelligence services in the city on both sides of The Wall.

The first part of the route to RAF Gatow from Teufelsberg, which is where the RAF 26 Signals Unit and a large US Army signals unit were jointly based, passed through the beautiful Grünewald (Green Forest) along the winding, thickly-forested and little-used Teufelssee Chaussee. Almost all road traffic along the road was either going to or from Teufelsberg; the only Berliners we regularly saw along that road were joggers.

The Opel was an automatic but because of its weight and length it was cumbersome to drive and so I drove quite slowly, getting used to the handling. The 30 minute trip back to RAF Gatow was uneventful – or so I thought. I parked the Opel in the slot at the front of the Officers’ Mess designated for OC 26 Signals Unit and went inside.

I was met in the foyer by the squadron leader RAF policeman who was in charge of the RAF Provost and Security Services in Berlin.

"Hello Tony," the P & SS man said, in what I thought was a rather cool manner. "Can we go to your room first, before you go in for tea? By the way, did you leave the keys for the Opel in the car?"

I answered yes to both questions. Service cars were routinely collected each evening from outside Messes and Married Quarters and taken off to the MT section by duty drivers and so the keys were usually left in the ignition.

We sat down in my room along the corridor from the foyer. It was not unusual for me to be visited by RAF policemen because apart from routine police business they also dealt with all security matters – and there always seemed to be lots of those in Berlin. I assumed he wanted to tell me about something connected with my work - and I was right! Through the window I could see several RAF policemen inspecting the Opel closely, front, rear and underneath. Now that was unusual. The Squadron Leader took his notebook out and I knew then that this was not a social visit. This was official - and personal.

"Did anything unusual happen on the drive from Teufelsberg to Gatow?" asked the P & SS man. It was the sort of vague, introductory question frequently used by policemen in the hope that their victim might confess to something.

"Not that I can recall," I answered, thinking hard. Going immediately on the defensive, as one does when unexpectedly questioned by the police, I added: "I can assure you I did not exceed the speed limit. It was the first time I’ve driven the Opel and I was getting used to it."

One of the most heinous crimes was to exceed the strict 50 kph speed limits in the city. It was OK for the Berliners to do it, as they did all the time, but it was a serious offence for the Brits to do it.

"I know," replied the P & SS man mysteriously. "When you were driving through the Grünewald did you notice anything unusual? Did you, for instance, see anything in your rear view mirror?"

"Not that I can recall," I replied truthfully.

"At 1727," continued the P & SS man, "a jogger reported that you passed him on the first bend. The jogger was resting on a bench set back from the road. A woman and a man rushed out from the trees a little further on just after you'd passed them.

"The woman laid herself down on the road and the man then took a photograph of the woman lying, apparently dead or injured, in the road. The jogger was certain that the picture would include the rear of the 26 SU Opel – a very distinctive car as you know. The man and woman then disappeared back into the trees and the jogger, wisely, quietly went off in the other direction and reported what he had seen."

"What are you implying?" I asked.

"That you were being set up for failing to stop after an accident. Fortunately, the jogger was not seen, either by the man or the woman; they were too engrossed in what they were doing. Luckily for you, Tony, the jogger works for us so I know it was a set up. That’s how I was able to get here so quickly and ask you these questions. You should consider yourself very fortunate."

"What are you going to do now?" I asked, beginning to realise that being second-in-command of 26 SU had some drawbacks.

"Nothing! We wait to see if the Soviets or East Germans try to make use of their photograph either to blackmail you or to embarrass the Allies. In the meantime, please always keep in mind that this city is a hotbed of spies. You need eyes in the back of your head – and whenever you’re driving you should certainly watch your rear view mirror to see what’s going on behind you."

I was suitably chastened, as well as worried. Had I been the target? Had my Boss been the target? Had the car been the target? I never did find out, but it was not the last odd thing to happen to me in Berlin.

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