Honor Page 24

My Berlin story begins in October, 1962, when I boarded the USS Patch for my trip to Germany. The trip to Bremerhaven was rough and I was seasick most for the way over. Being a Private E1 I got stuck on KP, guard duty etc most days, but I guess it was better than sleeping in those stacked up bunks. When we arrived in Bremerhaven we were met and put on buses to go to Frankfurt to catch the duty train to Berlin. Frankfurt was a busy station and I spent time wandering around and had some Bratwurst and beer at a place in the station. My first, but not last, Bratwurst or beer in Germany. Soon I learned to love the fine Currywurst stand outside the rear gate at McNair (on Osteweg). We boarded the duty train at night and traveled all night to get to Berlin. At some points we had to stop and deal with the East Berlin and Russian authorities: my first, but not last exposure to them. Upon arriving in Berlin we were taken by bus to McNair and placed in the units we were assigned to. HHC 2^nd Battle Group at that time was a great company and I was placed in a 4.2 Mortar Squad as a ¾ ton truck driver. Over time I moved up to assistant gunner and, after attending the 7^th Army NCO Academy, in Bad Toelz, Germany, to Squad leader and Sgt E5.

During those years we had many maneuver and practice war games in the Grunewald. This popular woods began about 3 miles from McNair away only. These exercises were done in Summer and Winter but the Winter months were the hardest with cold and lots of snow. We would set up the 4.2 mortars and build ice igloos to hide the mortars. No pretty 'Frauleins' around like sometimes in Summer. The meals were mostly C-rations and hot coffee. We would get hot meals to eat on metal trays once in a while and, if you remember the food didn't stay hot for long. Everyone had their favorite C-ration meal, (B1, B2 & B3 units), mine was franks and beans, and we used to trade with each other to try to get what we would eat. The big case of that army food had 12 various meal packs. Probably nobody has forgotten all these green cans and the P38 can openers. Just staying warm was a problem in that cold and snow and we had thermal sleeping bags that worked pretty well at night.
One night I went to sleep with my clothes on in the bag as it was too cold to take them off, and I had some candy bars in my fatigue pocket. I was awakened by a grunting noise and a wet stinky Gruni pig (Wild Boar) snout trying to get at the candy. I screamed so loud that the pig ran off but I woke up the entire company who thought we were overrun by the aggressor team.

During these exercises we encountered many German civilians walking in the Grunewald and met some very special people. The Grunewald was not like a range, it was the public recreation area for the inhabitants of West Berlin. But it always was the main 'play ground' of all Berlin Brigade units. Around of Berlin was the infamous wall and the way to West-Germany was long. So it was usual to see practicing GI's next to hiking Berliners. Just as Reinhard describes in his book there were several young boys picking up empty cartridges (blanks) to make some pocket money in selling the brass to scrap dealers and we would always help them to collect it. We often gave them candies and cookies from our c-ration packs and they were very happy to have them. Also Reinhard once was one of them.

Like most Berlin Veterans, I had many exciting experiences while serving with the Berlin Brigade's 6^th Infantry HHC 2^nd Battle Group then changing to HHC 2^nd Battalion. The years 1962-1965 ran fast and I was billeted in the legendary McNair Barracks.

During those years it was not uncommon to hear of many people with unreal ideas to escape East Berlin. People were jumping from windows just before they were bricked up by the East Germans and I'm sure many of you saw those attempts to reach freedom in the West. All of these escapes are fresh in my memory as I just returned from a trip to Berlin and a visit with Reinhard and Angela. I was privileged to be shown the film Reinhard helped make for the History Channel. On a rotating basis we did patrols along sections of the wall in a jeep with an mounted M60 machine gun. Those of us who were in Berlin in the early 1960s must remember seeing, at one time or another, attempts to cross over the wall by the poor trapped people who were desperate to see their families again. Blood and tears of countless innocent victims was the result of that dangerous GDR border and Death Strip construction. I also did G2 patrols in Class A uniform, in a sedan, into East Berlin... which was an experience in itself.

Twice each year we would go to Wildflecken and Grafenwoehr to life fire the 4.2 mortars. In Berlin (Keerans,- & Rose Range) we could fire small arms only. We would convoy through the East zone with some delays at the various checkpoints and were subject to some dealings with the East German authorities. They probably had fun to bother us. It was always exciting traveling through the zone. When we reached the huge ranges of Wildflecken or Grafenwoehr we would stay in primitive barracks that were heated with coal and were drafty and damp. Each day we would load up all the equipment and head out to the areas in the mountains for life firing practice. We would spend two weeks repeating this procedure everyday and at night it would be beer time. We would go to the monastery at the top of the hill and have home brewed beer until we would be so drunk we would roll down the hill to get back. All of us were happy to end the two week training and head back to Berlin and civilization.

The experience I would like to tell you about was the day President John F. Kennedy was killed. It was November 22, 1963, and it was the most frightening day for me that I can remember. The day started out as usual with whatever we were doing in the Company area and servicing equipment, etc. That night I went to the movie theater with two buddies. During the movie they stopped the showing and made an announcement for everyone to return to their company at once. We were then told that we would be going on an alert. When I got back to my area we were loading up and moving out. We had all been through many alerts before so we just thought this was another practice alert. I don't remember at what point we were told the President was shot but when we found out we had set up the 4.2 mortars in an area we normally did not use. We stayed set up and worried for about a day and a half before we were told to stand down and return to McNair. The rest is history and we all felt the great loss for our country and the Kennedy family.

Determination proved its worth in being assigned to Berlin in 1976. I had visited Berlin, my wife's hometown, twice while stationed in Karlsruhe between 1968 and 1974 and had my mind set on a Berlin assignment sometime during my military career. My chance came in 1975 when I had to reenlist. The Ft. Hood reenlistment folks said it was not possible to reenlist for a Berlin assignment, but I held my ground and refused to sign until they could produce orders for Berlin. In the meantime, I wrote a letter to the Berlin Command Sergeant Major asking for help in my assignment goal. He never responded, but two weeks after posting my letter, orders came down for Berlin. I reenlisted and we headed for what I considered the best assignment in Europe.

Everyone assigned to Berlin had to attend the week-long School of Standards upon their arrival. Being in Berlin was different from a West Germany assignment, radically different from being in 'The Zone' as it was called. Berlin was unique, located 103 miles inside the Communist-ruled German Democratic Republic commonly known as East Germany. It was an island inside East Germany, the bad guys had us encircled, outnumbered twenty to one; hence there were strict rules which must be learned and followed if you were to remain in Berlin. You were not allowed to use the S-Bahn trains as they were the property of East Germany and drove freely through the borders of East and West Berlin. Military personnel were allowed to use the West Berlin U-Bahn except the line going under East Berlin and stopping at Friedrichs strasse was strictly off limits to all US military personnel. For US military personnel, there were only two ways in or out of Berlin, the military Duty Train which left nightly to Frankfurt, or by driving your privately owned vehicle from Checkpoint Bravo in Berlin down a specific series of highways to Checkpoint Alpha at Helmstedt, West Germany. Both modes of travel required Flag Orders for each traveler. Every detail entered on the Flag Orders must match your military ID card or Passport, every initial, comma and period must match on the Flag Orders or the Russian military would not allow you to travel through their controlled area, East Germany.

Flag Orders? Be serious; while stationed in Karlsruhe in the 565^th Engineer Bn. between 1968 and 1974 I traveled twice to Berlin and back to West Germany by driving to the Frankfurt airport, parking my car, and getting on a Pan American airliner. Forty-five minutes later, I was in Berlin, no questions asked and no mention of Flag Orders. Oh, wait, now that you mention it, the second time I returned to Karlsruhe the company training NCO did ask me if I was going to save my Flag Orders as a souvenir. What Flag Orders, I recalled asking him. You mean you went to Berlin without Flag Orders? Well, I suppose so. No one ever mentioned that I needed them. When I turned in my leave request, I had clearly written that I was going to Berlin. No one mentioned Flag Orders. Well, you made it back, he said; don't tell anyone where you went. The incident was forgotten. Forgotten until I went to Berlin Brigade's School of Standards, that is. I slumped lower in my chair as the instructor explained the rules, regulations and necessity for Flag Orders in detail. Thinking back to my first Berlin trip, I recalled that my brother-in-law, Horst took us to the Wannsee beaches on the S-Bahn, recalled the gates opening several times for the train to enter or exit different areas. Recalled a uniformed man walking down the aisles of the train and wondering why a police officer would be examining the S-Bahn occupants. Instantly I recalled showing my military ID card to the airport customs agent the first time I arrived in Berlin via Pan American airlines and the strange look he gave me before asking me why I was there. I am on vacation, I replied. He motioned the gate and said, in English, "Go ahead".

School of Standards instructors went on to tell us what happens when soldiers or dependents make mistakes or break the rules of travel to and from Berlin. The East German Vopos have no authority over us, all they can do is try to stop us, and if they do turn us over Russian military. It may take an hour or a day for the Russians to come and apprehend you. Once they have you, you might be in their custody for several days, opting to interrogate you before they decide to turn you over to the US authorities. The instructors related a recent tale where two dependants, wives of Berlin assigned junior officers, decided to take the U-Bahn to Friedrichstrasse in East Berlin and do some shopping. They didn't get out of the U-Bahn station before being stopped by the East German police, the Vopos. They were turned over to the Russians, the Russians turned them over to the US military authorities the same day, and that night, the wives and their officer husbands were on the Duty Train out of Berlin to their new assignment in West Germany, never to return to Berlin until perhaps The Wall came down in November 1989.

Fully educated and a graduate of School of Standards, my four years in Berlin went off with no further Flag Order mishaps. I traveled dozens of times from Berlin's Checkpoint Bravo to Helmstedt's Checkpoint Alpha and back and numerous times on the nightly Duty Train to Frankfurt in full compliance and in legal possession of Flag Orders. The biggest scare is when my father came to Berlin to visit; after a full orientation by the MPs at Checkpoint Bravo, we began our journey down the Autobahn to Helmstedt. Near Magdeburg I decided to pull off the Autobahn at an authorized rest area and stretch my legs. My father jumped out of the car, pulled a Kodak Instamatic out of his pocket and started taking pictures. I snatched the camera from his hands and loudly ordered him back in the car. It was the only time in my life that I ever yelled at my father.

I left Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania as a young 20 year old on December 12, 1951, bound for Fort Meade, Maryland, then on to Fort Campbell, Kentucky for basic training with the 11^th airborne. After basic, it was off to Fort Benning, Georgia, for jump school, then back to the 11^th airborne MP Co. After returning to the 11^th we began extensive paratrooper training. I completed 20 jumps and eventually injured my knee at which time jumping from airplanes was no longer in my future. I requested a transfer and was sent to Berlin with stops along the way in Camp Killmer, New Jersey and Bremerhaven Germany. While on ship and still not knowing what my assignment was and what my final destination would be, I met a Sergeant by the name of Robert Rhew from Tennessee. Sgt. Rhew told me that he was going to Berlin and that Berlin was the best duty in the army. Earlier, he had been with the 82^nd Airborne when they arrived Berlin in 1945. As luck would have it, Sgt. Rhew would eventually become my platoon Sgt; I was assigned to 2^nd platoon 272^nd MP Co. at Andrews Barracks. I arrived in Berlin the day before thanksgiving, it was November 21, 1952. When we were met by the OD, he informed us that we really should not have arrived until after the holiday weekend so rather than putting us directly to work, they gave us a pass.

My new roommate asked if I wanted to go into the city and I sure did after being on ship and locked down for 21 days. I was ready go anywhere. We went to a bar called 'Kleines Ballhaus' in Schoeneberg and had a great time. That was my first night in Berlin. I never made it back to 'Kleines Ballhaus' for pleasure, only business as I was called to respond to several incidents there as an MP. While my duty time we had to respond lots of bar checks, days and nights. There were some 'Red Light places' caused trouble which sometimes. My favorite clubs to relax and unwind were the 'Resi' on street named 'Hasenheide' and the 'Badewanne' on Nuernberger Str., nearby 'KaDeWe' shopping mall. There were many other places but I struggle to remember the names. There was also an excellent restaurant near Wannsee which we would frequent. My first duty was border patrol in area 66 in the Neukolln section of the city. My partner, PFC Kunkle from Indiana Pennsylvania and I would pick up our GO at 3:00pm and work until midnight. Private Kunkle and I became very good friends and did plenty of crazy things together. Perhaps our dumbest caper happened while we were on freight train detail and the Vopo ('Volkspolizei' of East Berlin) assigned us to a siding, perhaps the most boring of details. We knew we would be there for two or three hours, so we got off the train and went into a bar. There were four of us, all wearing side arms and carrying Thompsons. When we entered the bar, no one said a word. We each ordered a beer but the bartender refused to let us pay so we all had a couple more. Figuring we were pushing our luck we made our way back to the train where we were stopped by a Russian officer. We all assumed that we were in big trouble but in very good English, the officer simply asked if we had enjoyed our beers. He gave us a wink and a nod and simply let us be on our way. We got lucky and no one ever discussed the incident again.

The most memorable assignment I had was during the Big Four conference in 1954. The 272^nd MP Co had the detail of escorting John Foster Dulles from his home in West Berlin to the Eastern sector. My job was to communicate and coordinate with the escort detail by radio at all times. We met Molotov at the Brandenburg Gate and led his convoy to the conference building in the American sector.

While in East Berlin we befriended some of our Russian counterparts and had a chance to tour the Russian Sector. At that time in 1954, the main street was called Stalinallee although I believe that name was change following Stalin's death.

We notice that reconstruction had not progressed nearly as fast or far in east Berlin as it had in the west. If you ventured just a few blocks off of the main drag, you would see nothing but rubble. We told the Russian soldiers about West Berlin and they had a hard time believing us. What our Russian friends wanted the most was American cigarettes, and Coca Cola. We traded cokes and smokes for their patches, and emblems.

I also remember that Mrs. Dulles would look after us and make sure that we had a good breakfast. She would have coffee, juice and rolls for us while the secret service men would make sure we had enough cigarettes. That was back in the days when it was still OK to smoke. We got along well with the British MPs. I remember they would joke around and make fun of the way we talked. They would say "You Yanks simply can't speak English". The French MPs on the other hand, were a bunch of jerks. They would try to give us a hard time, saying "You GIs have too much money to spend on the women" but we let it roll off our backs like water off a duck.

I also worked on the PM desk for a short time as a radio operator and as a desk clerk. While on this assignment, I made friends with the GP whose name was Franz Veneck. Franz was fifteen years older than me but took me under his wing and treated me like a brother. He introduced me too his friends and family and on the weekends we'd rent a car or motorcycles and visit places I would never have seen on my own.

Reinhard, here is another story you and your readers might like. On patrol one night , I was on joint patrol, driving down the street 'Unter den Eichen', near the U.S. Army Station hospital. That was the place were the 'Ladies Of The Night' worked at that time in 1953. It rained all day and into the night. As we were driving in back of the hospital we saw a GI going into a bombed out building with such a women. We turned off the lights on our jeep and waited for him to come out. Just as he came out we turned on the lights. He started to run and his pants came down, and caused that he fell into the mud. Covered with dirt he quickly got up and started to run again but his pants kept falling down and so was he. My patrol partner, a German police man (GP) and I just sat there and 'laughed our ass off'. We picked him up, took him to the GP station, got him a shower, and dried his clothes. He thought we were going to take him to the MP station or back to his CO of the 6^th Inf. But after he was all clean we drove him back to where he was before, 'Unter den Eichen'. He had enough for that night and we have made a new friend. Motto: - Cops are your friends and helpers !-

Later this year I took a thirty-day leave and traveled to England, France, Luxumberg, Sweden, and Greece. While in Luxemburg I was most touched by being able to visit the grave of my brother. Anthony A Scaletta. He was killed during the Battle of the Bulge on December 17, 1944. This was a bittersweet moment in my life.

I left Berlin on December 1^st, 1954, came home on the U.S.S. Rose. We arrived in New York, went to Fort Dix were I was discharged on December 23^rd, 1954. I made it home for Christmas. There was so much I experienced while in the army, I feel I could write a book. Although I always have felt that we tend to remember all the good times and forget the bad.