Transit through East Germany - 1979 - Tony Cunnane's Life and Times

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

It is also important to note that the city of Berlin, all four sectors, was entirely located inside East Germany. East Berlin also functioned as the capital  of East Germany (Deutsche Demokratische Republik or DDR).

British military personnel wishing to transit by road between West Berlin and West Germany, and vice versa, had to do so via what was known as the Central Corridor. This started at Checkpoint Bravo and ended 160 kms further west at Checkpoint Alpha near Helmstedt in West Germany. There was a very strict protocol that defined the procedures for military personnel crossing the borders of East Germany by road.

On arrival at Checkpoint Bravo my documentation was checked by British military personnel. I was given the standard briefing, and I signed to confirm that I was familiar with the rules and knew what to do in the event of a breakdown or emergency. I was then booked out for the transit through East Germany. A few kilometres further on, after driving through a bleak no-man's land, I pulled into the Soviet Checkpoint on the East German border near Dreilinden. The huge floodlit area was empty of people and vehicles and it was very eerie. In accordance with the rules, I stopped in front of a solitary Soviet soldier at the only one of the dozen or so traffic lanes that was manned. I got out of my car, closed the door and locked it. Part of the protocol was that military vehicles were not allowed to be searched. The guard and I formally saluted each other together, even though I was not in uniform. Rank was not important; the salutes were intended to be friendly gestures between Allies.

The soldier walked slowly around my car, checked that the registration number matched the details on the pootyovka and then handed the papers back to me. We exchanged salutes once more and then he indicated that I should walk over to a small hut about 200 metres away. Not a word was spoken.

Inside the building I pushed my documents through the familiar small hatchway - I had made this journey several times already during my tour of duty so I knew what to expect. The window above the hatch was shuttered as usual but by bending down as I slid the papers through, as I always did, I could see that the normally busy office beyond was almost empty but I couldn't see who took the papers. A TV was on in the corner of the waiting room, tuned to the main West Berlin channel which was showing a Christmassy programme. A selection of English, German and Russian language magazines and newspapers lay on a table. Conscious of the CCTV camera staring down on me from the ceiling in a corner, I ignored the Russian literature and picked up an English magazine and sat down to wait. Normally travel documents came back through the hatch within a couple of minutes, warm from the photocopier and authenticated with a Russian stamp. On this occasion I was kept waiting for about 10 minutes and I began to feel uneasy.

When my papers were eventually thrust back through the hatch, I could see that the person doing the pushing was wearing the uniform of a Soviet Army Lieutenant Colonel rather than the more usual corporal or sergeant. I am quite certain that the officer made sure I could see his rank, one higher than mine, because, quite unnecessarily, he leaned as far forward as the hatchway permitted. He said "Thank you, have a pleasant journey" in excellent English and I departed without a word. I showed the documents once again to the guard, he checked that they had been stamped with the Soviet authority to proceed and then handed them back to me. We saluted each other again and I got back into my car. I made a note of the time and then drove on into the German Democratic Republic. The time was important because I could not afford to arrive at the next Soviet checkpoint, 160 kms away, in less than two hours otherwise I would have exceeded the strict 80kph speed limit somewhere along the route – and that was a crime and contrary to the Allied protocol. Taking too long on the journey would also have raised suspicions because 'comfort' stops along the route were not permitted.

Those next two hours were a worrying time. It was the first time I had done the journey by night. It was an extremely dark night and there were no road lights! The road was mostly single carriageway and often passed through forests. I'm sure I spent as much time watching in my rear view mirror as I did watching the road in front but there was absolutely nothing to be seen and I passed no vehicles in either direction. Every few miles I noticed an East German police patrol car in a lay-by or at a road junction; the crew were doubtless reporting my progress to someone. We ignored each other because military personnel of the Allied Powers were not subject to East German jurisdiction. It was easy to maintain the 80kph average speed; I slowed down for the last 2 or 3 kms as I approached the border area just to make quite sure I would not be early. After 2 hours 5 minutes I pulled up at the Soviet Checkpoint at the West German border. The procedure was the same as at the Berlin end. After exchanging salutes, I handed my documents over to the Border guard. I could see that he was older than the average Soviet border guard although he wore no badges of rank. He waved me over to the Police Post without even bothering to check my documentation. Now that was very unusual! Inside the hut, my documents were checked and stamped again in a very short space of time and with great relief I went back to my car.

Instead of coming out to stand at the front of my vehicle, the guard remained inside his sentry box this time, contrary to the protocol, and held his hand out for my documents. I handed them over at full stretch. Without looking at them he moved back a further couple of paces into his box and gestured me to move closer. I declined. He spoke to me in colloquial Russian. "Have you something you wish to swap?" he asked. I knew that sometimes British servicemen handed over chocolate or cigarettes as a gesture of Allied friendship, but that was strictly against the rules. I ignored his question and said in English, "Please check my documents and let me pass." He persisted, always in Russian, for what seemed like ages but was probably only a couple of minutes. I assumed that there were hidden cameras and microphones and that they were trying to get a photograph of me handing over something to the Soviet soldier. In the end I snapped at him and said curtly and loudly in English, "Check my documents and hand them back."

Suddenly a voice came over a hidden loudspeaker inside the sentry box. The language was possibly Ukrainian, or some other similar to Russian, so I could understand only a little of what was being said. It was certainly an order to the guard. He came smartly out of his box, handed over my documents, still not having looked at them, said "Thank you Squadron Leader, Happy Christmas" in English, and saluted.

A few minutes later I was in the safety of the British Checkpoint at Helmstedt. Before leaving my car in the parking lot, I checked that the black cotton I'd stuck between the body of the car and the boot lid before leaving Gatow was unbroken and then went to book in. Travellers were required to report anything unusual that happened during their transit through East Germany and I had to spend the next hour tediously making a written statement of my little adventure.

When I eventually reached home in Lincolnshire later that day, the whole world was talking about the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan - and I had to pretend to be surprised.

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