Tonights “Buzz’s Bedtime Story” is one of history, family, and intrigue. It recounts the time I visited East Germany and East Berlin during the height of the Cold War as a Cold War warrior. Let’s call this one, “Trains, Family, and War.” Put on your pajamas, curl up, and sip your favorite beverage. Here we go.
In 1985, I was a young Air Force officer and pilot, based and flying internationally out of Charleston AFB, SC. I was a C-141 pilot. It was my first assignment out of pilot training and a dream gig for a new pilot. My missions primarily revolved around fighting the Cold War with Russia and its proxies, in various capacities, around the globe. That included clandestine special operations. I’d recently been promoted to Captain, and I was visiting my parents and sister, who lived in Kaiserslautern, Germany, for the holidays.
My late father and mentor, Brigadier General Bob Patterson, was the commander of the U.S. Air Force’s 322 Airlift Division at Ramstein AFB, just a few miles away. He had access to the “Troop Train,” which traveled between Frankfurt and Berlin during the Cold War. Its roots trace back to the movement of American troops immediately post-WWII and, with the exception of limited air flights using the “Berlin Corridor,” was the only means of transportation between the West and Soviet-controlled East Germany.
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The Troop Train would remain in service throughout the Cold War and was a vital overnight service for U.S. military personnel moving to Berlin. It also necessarily provided a safe and secure transportation with special military escort cars manned by the Military Police and contained radio operators and a train commander. The Berlin Wall was still up, and the Soviet Union was very much in control of East Germany and East Berlin.
So, I flew out one winter to celebrate Christmas with my family and to travel with my parents to West Berlin. It was a cold, snowy night when we left Frankfurt. We had a nicely appointed sleeper car and meals along the way. It was really cool. The homes near the train tracks were lit with Christmas lights, and with the heavy snowfall, it was brilliant. A Christmas card scene.
As soon as we entered East Germany, however, it became very dark. There were very few lights and no Christmas lights. The difference was palpably stark. It was still cold and snowing, but it wasn’t the same. It was clear that we weren’t in the West anymore. And it was clear the commies hated us being there.
Immediately after crossing the border, we were forced to switch locomotives. Thereafter, every 50 miles or so, Soviet guards would stop the train to harass us. They’d board under the auspices of an “inspection.” This went on all night. It was both intimidating and incredibly interesting. I couldn’t sleep. It was movie-like.
Finally, we arrived at the train station in West Berlin and checked into the Tempelhof Hotel.
Another cool thing about the Cold War 80s was that Americans could travel into East Berlin easily if we wore our military uniforms. One night, my mom, dad, and I went through Check Point Charlie into the East to have dinner. We wanted to check it out. My dad and I were in full service dress, and my mom was just my mom.
After getting hassled at Check Point Charlie, we found a Russian restaurant in East Berlin. The meal was sparse and average. They had these little flower pots with these little antenna things poking out. At one point, I picked one up and spoke into it. “Hey, Vladimir, what’s up?”
My Brigadier General dad thought it was funny. My mom cringed. Dad and I’d had a few drinks and were feeling no pain.
On the way back to our U.S. military van, an older East German man didn’t like the fact that we were laughing and enjoying ourselves. In German, he said “ruhig sein,” or “be quiet.
I said, “Be free, buddy!” And laughed.
We decided to expedite our departure.
