The trio emerged on the western side of the gate and stood on an empty concrete expanse. In front of them, the wall curved out in a semi-circle. The captain pointed out: “A hundred meters to the right is the observation tower, our primary watch site. We used to climb up to the top of the gate, along the quadriga, but we rarely find that useful anymore. Only on special occasions do we need such a vantage point.”
Hans looked up at the gate, then over to the guard tower. He was silent, but his eagle eyes scanned over the defenses, looking for exposed and potential weaknesses. Dietrich took a more casual, tourist-like approach, which helped put the captain at some measure of ease.
Hans gazed back toward the Wall and scanned its length. The long line of the front wall, topped with concrete piping, ended at the semi-circle. Here, the Wall became shorter and significantly wider. At the northern end of the semicircle, the thinner, pipe-topped wall continued on, passing the Reichstag. Dietrich watched Hans scan the Wall, then lingered for a moment on the West German flag fluttering above the Reichstag.
“Comrade Captain, why is the Wall shorter here?” Hans inquired.
“Ah,” the captain said sheepishly, “that was engineered from the beginning by General Secretary Honecker himself. He felt it was important to show the West we control the Gate, so he wanted them to see it better. The wall here is closer to two and a half meters than three, and about three meters wide. That’s to avoid any sort of vehicle breakthrough. I’d venture to say even a tank would have a hard time overcoming that thickness.”
The men returned to the eastern side of the gate, passing once again through the giant pillars. Hans looked beyond the security checkpoint, at the end of Pariser Platz, to a meter-high ‘baby’ wall that separated tourists and pedestrians from the secure zone. It was topped with a railing, but one that a thin person or youngster could squeeze through.
“So,” the captain continued, “as you know, we keep our station housed in the old guardhouses at the gate, and have constant patrols throughout Pariser Platz. It’s an effective enough measure just to be seen. We’ve really never had a problem with anyone approaching from the eastern side.”
Dietrich now frowned, already bored with the inspection. “You’ve had problems with people from the West, then?” His tone was more cynical than truly probing.
The captain shook his head and nervously smiled. “No, hardly get any problems from there either. Just a few occasions of drunks throwing bottles over the wall at night, mostly. We’re vigilant. We know how important this gate is as a symbol.”
The East German flag that flew atop the Brandenburg Gate was indeed an ensign of the GDR’s territory, but it ironically carried on a militaristic tradition that the East Germans claimed to reject. The Brandenburg Gate had been draped with Prussian military flags during the wars of German unification, then famously during the Nazi regime with swastikas, and finally, at the end of the horrific battle for Berlin, the flag of the Soviet Union. Now another flag adorned the Gate, another marker on this claimed territory. The captain looked up at the flag and smiled. For him, it was a comforting sight.
Hans and Dietrich left the captain at the edge of Pariser Platz and climbed into the general’s private car. The driver pulled away, heading east on Unter den Linden.
Hans shifted in his seat. “Comrade General, there’s a matter I need to discuss with you.”
“Is it terribly important?” Dietrich yawned.
“I’ve been hearing reports regarding Operation STOSS.”
“Yes?” The general’s interest piqued.
Hans continued carefully, “If I’m to understand it correctly, the Stasi is seriously considering its implementation.”
“We merely consider all possible scenarios in drawing up military strategy. That does not mean we intend to pursue every single plan,” Dietrich tried to deflect.
“That’s not what I heard,” Hans insisted. Dietrich did not reply, but Hans continued to press. “Where does that leave us, Comrade General? I can save myself time from examining the border defenses if we’re going to invade the West and make the border obsolete.”
“It’s a far more complicated issue than that, Comrade Lieutenant Colonel Brandt.”
“Yes, Comrade General, but our focus has been on defensive measures. It’s another thing to make them suddenly offensive in nature. And I do not believe that is a tenable position given current conditions.”
“No?”
“No, Comrade General. There are too many variables to control. The garrisons of NATO forces in West Berlin, for instance, the three West Berlin airports, and the nature of two million West Berliners who won’t just sit by while we take over their streets. A coordinated strike may be able to invade the heart of West Berlin, but it would take the full effort of all our military forces to hold any territory gained. That’s a risk we cannot afford to undertake. And none of this even considers the how our unilateral actions will tip the balance of Warsaw Pact unity. We don’t need the Soviets’ permission to protect our own country, but if we act without consulting them, we leave our allies in the cold. A chain reaction of military conflicts could start here. Our situation may be growing desperate, but that could prove disastrous.”
“Comrade Lieutenant Colonel, you worry too much. Besides, these matters are in the hands of capable men. Don’t concern yourself with issues that are beyond your responsibility,” Dietrich said, trying to bring finality to the discussion. He was overtired and in an especially foul mood.
Hans would not be deterred. “You should know, Comrade General, the Soviets will not support such an operation.”
Dietrich’s eyes widened. “What?”
“I’ve spoken with Colonel Neski of the 6th Army,” Hans continued.
“Yes? And?”
Hans lowered his voice. “A year and a half ago, we almost went to war, all on account of two incidents that were colossal misunderstandings. They scared the Soviets. The first occurred three weeks after the Korean airliner was shot down over Kamchatka, when tensions were especially high. A lieutenant colonel Petrov was in charge of the early-warning bunker near Moscow. One of their satellites registered five nuclear launch warnings.”
“What?” Dietrich said.
“Five warnings. Petrov didn’t believe the Americans would start a nuclear war with just five birds. It would be a massive attack. So he cross-checked his information, and eventually disabled the system. Turns out the satellite had been registering reflected sunlight from high-level clouds as missile launches. But if Petrov hadn’t taken the time to think it over, not just react―well, you can imagine the result.”
Dietrich sat up. Hans had his full attention now.
“But that was only the first incident,” Hans said. “The second was six weeks later. NATO was running a communications exercise, Able Archer, in West Germany. The Soviets were monitoring the exercise as part of their Operation RYAN, designed to give them early warning of a nuclear attack from NATO. Andropov didn’t want the Soviets to be taken by surprise, not after what happened with the Nazis in the last war. So they listened in on Able Archer, and although they heard every transmission was labeled “exercise,” they didn’t believe it. They thought it was a cover. The Soviets went on high alert, and were just waiting for a missile launch warning to strike at NATO. They were within moments of launching their missiles and blowing us all to hell. But the intel was all wrong. NATO ended the exercise and nothing happened. It scared the Soviets when they realized how close they came to a war, and all for nothing.