Although I never actually felt that I was distracting the soldiers from their training, towards the end of the
1950s, a few officers must have complained about the presence of so many children, especially during larger
maneuvers. It made sense. Besides the general danger inherent to these exercises, the presence of children was
making the best camouflage and tactics useless. A unit seeking its "opponents" needed simply to keep an eye out
for kids. Whenever kids could be seen sitting in the bushes, sometimes three or four at once, or wherever there
were kids standing on a forest trail looking intently into the woods, it was highly likely that this was where an
"enemy" machine gun emplacement could be found. The best efforts of some of these officers could not discourage
these young brass scavengers, for whom these exercises exerted powerful appeal. For it was here in the midst of
these training maneuvers, right at the key fighting positions, that the most shells could be found, as everyone
knew. The long ammunition belts, easily recognizable to everyone, often were placed next to each other in the
grass or could be found piled up in a box to the left of the gun. Some ammo belts had a capacity of 500 linked
rounds that were often fired off there and then.
Quite unexpectedly, whenever there was a big exercise, the Berlin riot police began parking their old "Mungo"
DKW jeeps at all the relevant entrances to the Grunewald and underpasses beneath the Avus. They refused all
visitors to the Grunewald, whether kids or adults, entry into the training area. However, after a while I had
worked out how to successfully outwit them. Particularly well-shielded was the "Grosser Stern" by the Avus. It
was not long before I observed that the police would allow a sharp right turn onto the Koenigsweg, an extension
of the Kronprinzessinnenweg. The Koenigsweg lay behind the Avus, and I could see how it led in the direction of
the "Funkturm" (radio tower) and therefore out of the Grunewald. As long as I got past here quite brazenly, the
rest of the trip was easy. I then simply had to take the next little trail to the left, and I was right in the
middle of the maneuver area. How lucky I was that nobody saw through my tactic!
Another possibility of illicitly getting into the training area, which mostly was placed behind the Avus for big
maneuvers, was much more dangerous. Incredibly foolishly, to prevent police checks, some teenagers and even
adults would run across the highway and the railway tracks into the training area. Once across these dangerous
obstacles, one only had to watch out for the German police jeeps that were on patrol in the maneuver area. This
info had spread like wildfire amongst the collectors that our German police would not only escort kids and adults
out of the Grunewald, but they also confiscated without mercy all the collected brass. What a mean and devious
trick in our eyes!
Nevertheless, this was not really a problem for me, for I could hear the police approaching in their two-stroke
engines from a long distance. Their young crews, who didn't know the area at all, were much too slow and not very
agile. I took care to always have a safe hiding place identified in any area in which I was "working", and I was
always ably to retreat to this hiding place before the police arrived. Only the inexperienced kids were nabbed
and taken out of the training area. The normal soldiers behaved, as always, in a friendly and helpful way during
their maneuvers, and didn't say a word about us to anyone. Quite the contrary, they were even rather amused and
gave us cover as soon as a police jeep or one of their high ranking officers approached. I will never forget how
stunned the riot police usually looked whenever I strolled out of the Grunewald behind them. Of course I had
hidden my yield beforehand, just to be on the safe side. They never seemed to ask me where I'd come from. If
they had asked me, I'd already worked out the finest excuses, for the idea was not to draw attention to yourself!
On one occasion, as I was yet again illicitly roaming through the maneuver area, I watched as one of those
rickety old police jeeps started to skid after having sped along a windy track and then tipped over onto its side.
Ha! From a safe distance, I observed with malicious glee as some U.S. soldiers pushed the old vehicle back upright
and got it onto the road again.
When I was about twelve or thirteen, and having thought I had the problem of the riot police well-figured out, I
unexpectedly came into close contact with them. It happened in a way that I never had expected and which made me
speechless. Once again, I had successfully gotten past the police blockades. I was moving along the valley trail
of the Havel hill, not suspecting anything untoward, when I heard behind me the familiar quiet drone of a U.S.
jeep. The noise of the American engine was easy to distinguish from the "clackety-clack" sound of the riot police
vehicles, so I felt safe and stepped to one side, raising my arm as always to welcome them.
But what happened then? The jeep braked sharply and stopped right next to me. The passenger door opened, and
uh-oh, what was that? A white police cap and a well-known blue uniform appeared. Damn it! Now I'd been caught!
I just about heard: "What are you do...?", before I rushed off, panic-stricken, up the Havel hill. Blowing his
whistle and shouting, the policeman followed me. Soon, his panting and puffing got quieter. Luckily he ran out
of breath after a short distance. When I turned round after a little while, he was moving back to his vehicle. At
first I just let myself fall, exhausted, down onto the grass, so frightened that I was unable to move. Phew! What
had happened there? I couldn't believe that "our" police were now driving around the Grunewald together with the
Americans in their U.S. jeeps. At the time, I still had no idea that there was an U.S. military police station
where German and American police units were on duty together.
From then on I was even more careful during big maneuvers. I avoided wider trails and rubbed my hands with
malicious joy whenever my inexperienced competition, whether young or old, was caught and escorted out of the
Grunewald. But after this unforgettable experience, at least they never caught me again.
A tough job