Honor Page 4

There had been a lot of hoopla throughout the year, lots of reports of political changes and unrest occurring throughout the Warsaw Pact. It started in Hungary in late September. Then the frontier through Czechoslovakia opened for those to escape to the West, to Austria and beyond. But for most of us bandsmen stationed in Berlin, it was business as usual. We didn't have a lot of jobs at that time of year, but we did rehearse every day. Being right in the middle of things as they were happening, most of us paid little attention to what was going on. It didn't make any difference.

We were stationed with the 298^th Army Band in Berlin, 104 miles behind the Iron Curtain and if the balloon went up, we weren't going anywhere. Our facilities were the same ones the band had occupied in July 1945, namely the Kaserne hospital of the former Kadettenanstalt, turned SS-Kaserne during Hitler's reign, now named Andrews Barracks. When and if something happened, we'd be right here in the city, desperately trying to hold on while someone, somewhere, would try to rescue us. At least, that's what we hoped.

The last person killed trying to cross the Wall didn't know, of course, that he was to be the last to die. In April 1989, the young man was machine-gunned while trying to escape to freedom. He should've waited. In little more than seven months, the Wall would come down and the Cold War would end.

On November 9, 1989, the Wall came down. There were little rumblings of something going on, but it wasn't till my then-wife and I were just on the way out of the city to spend a weekend away from the hustle and bustle of Berlin when we heard about it. Our first reaction was to hurry. The borders would be totally blocked and we had no desire to spend hours at either the Soviet checkpoints at Drewitz or Marienborn, or even at Checkpoints Alpha and Bravo waiting on traffic. We simply wanted to get out of the city and spend a relatively quiet weekend in Celle, located northwest of Braunschweig.

So we drove west, maybe just a hair faster than the maximum allowable speed of 100 km per hour. Leaving Berlin, traffic was about normal. We had no indication from the Soviets at their checkpoint that things were hopping. Just shove the flag order with ID cards paper-clipped to it in the tray underneath the slot (always did wonder what lay on the other side of the painted glass) and stare at the photograph of Mikhail Gorbachev on the Wall. Curious thing about that photograph. When he first came to power, the official photograph as posted in the shabby, rundown checkpoints had been touched up to reveal no birthmark on his forehead. Later, as Gorbachev's glasnost and perestroika became popular in the West, the Soviets decided to leave the birthmark in the photograph. I found that interesting. Maybe the Soviets really were trying to change their secretive ways.

I don't remember any other Allies trying to leave the city at the same time as we. It wasn't till we neared the border at Helmstedt that the much-despised Trabbis and Wartburgs (small, cheaply made eastern-block cars powered by smelly, two-stroke engines) made their presence known. But they were out in force, all heading west with us. Rich East Germans, all heading toward the forbidden land. As it turned out, we only waited about an hour at the border. We had expected a longer wait, but we had escaped early.

In West Germany, cars from all nations, mostly eastern block, poured across. The drivers of these vehicles from Poland, Hungary, Czechoslovakia, Rumania and mostly, East Germany, drove slowly, blocking traffic while rubber-necking at everything. It appeared that these people, most of them certainly seeing West Germany for the first time, were absolutely enthralled and probably a bit scared. They looked everywhere and anywhere. It was clear, though, that they felt strange, even a bit foreign, in a country that spoke the same language as they. Shopping, at least for the immediate future, wasn't possible. They hadn't the right kind of money.

That didn't last long. On Friday, November 10, 1989, people from the East were out in force, buying, curiously enough, as many bananas as they could afford. Soon, there wasn't a banana to be found anywhere near the East German border. Other food items were purchased too, of course, but the hands-down favorite was bananas.

We enjoyed our weekend in Celle, and soon it was time to head back to Berlin. We packed up and left, fully expecting an absolutely jammed Checkpoint Alpha, just outside Helmstedt. We must've found a lull in the action, because we didn't have to wait long before processing through. Of course, being stationed in Berlin always helped. The MPs could trust us not to screw up and wind up in the wrong line, presenting travel documents to the East Germans instead of the Soviets. More than once I hand-carried a shotgun envelope with an MP report in it (yeah, I peeked) about some poor GI who got confused at the border and wound up in the wrong lane. Invariably, that mistake cost him a few months' restriction from travelling the Helmstedt-Berlin Autobahn.

The next day at work, all hell was still breaking loose. The Wall was down and people were streaming over by the tens of thousands. An already crowded city was becoming absolutely choked with humanity. And people were chipping at the Wall. We bandsmen, along with all other soldiers, were told not to hammer at the Wall. It still belonged to the government of East Germany and if we were caught, it meant serious consequences. So we had to sneak at it. On Tuesday, a buddy mine and I drove to Zehlendorf and parked the car a discreet distance from the Wall, just a few blocks from Teltower Damm, the main drag of Zehlendorf. Armed with hammers and a cold chisel, we attempted to hide behind bushes while chipping away. There were still guards in the towers, located only about 100 meters from us, but they did nothing to interfere. Just looked at us through their binoculars. German civilians on the West side were openly hammering away. No problem for them, but it was trouble for us if we were caught. We got several nice samples each and headed back. We didn't want to overdo it.

What followed over the next two years (until September, 1991, when my assignment in Berlin ended) was nothing short of a miracle. The political changes which were forthcoming would amaze us all-Berlin's status as an occupied city would end, Reunification of both Germanys would take place, and the city that had a flavor all its own would change forever. As a bandsman, I was involved in many politically-flavored events. These ranged from providing musical support at a newly-created breach in the Wall, just down the street from my apartment in Lichterfelde, to performing at the ceremony which "gave away" Checkpoint Charlie to a German museum. (former Outpost movie theater). Several years later I found out that an up-close video shot of me playing my instrument graced the opening scenes of a German documentary of Reunification.

It was an exciting time to be in Berlin, yet also somewhat sad. Gone forever would be the city as many soldiers and airmen knew it-a cosmopolitan city in which we Americans weren't necessarily instantly identified as GI's (except in the immediate neighborhoods surrounding McNair Barracks and Andrews Barracks). Girl Watcher's Corner, the "downtown" district of Zehlendorf, would return to its normal name-the corner of Berliner Strasse and Teltower Damm. The PX complex was razed, the duty train was stopped, and many of the housing areas were no longer flavored by American families.

Although German Reunification was a welcome sight for political as well as moral reasons, we all lost a little of something when The Wall came down on that November day in 1989.

All the same, I am proud of my own service of almost nine years in that "unique" city and it will always remain in my heart as the cornerstone of my experience.

Parade season in Berlin's summer had the distinction, in comparison with stateside bands, of cramming pretty much all the military ceremonies that needed to be played in one year inside a three-month period. It meant lots of marching, lots of playing, and lots of pain. It meant listening to some colonel point out perceived faults, regardless how well the sequence was played, just to get the training time in. So the best way to handle the whole experience was to simply surrender to the pain, divorce your mind from the overall scheme and simply focus on the immediate moment. It was an exercise in anguish and how to deal with the physical discomforts sufficient to be solid and perform, yet keep something back for the inevitable, "Do it again, band!"

Eventually the duty day would end and it would be time to mentally come back to normal.

Independence Day was a day like no other day I'd ever worked. The day started with getting suited up in the Army green uniform, a.k.a "Spandau greens". This included all regular uniform accoutrements, along with bloused spitshined boots, white dickey with the Berlin patch sewn to it at the throat, white pistol belt with an oversized brass buckle, and a gloss-black painted helmet liner with the Berlin patch decal on the sides of the helmet. Rounding out the ensemble was a pair of white gloves. Clarinet/flute/piccolo players had to cut off the fingers of the gloves to enable them to play.

Thus uniformed and wearing nothing but a T-shirt underneath the Army green coat, we grabbed our black leather music pouches and our instruments, boarded the bus and headed over to the 4-Ring. The 4-Ring was the GI-equivalent to the name the Berliners gave to a large, rectangular paved area located just to the east of McNair Barracks which they called "Platz des 4.ten Julis," a.k.a "4^th of July Square". At about 1000 we'd disembark and then final preparations would begin. Already at that hour people were lining up to see one of the most ceremonial happenings in Berlin. The area around the 4-Ring was festooned with red, white, and blue bunting, American flags, pack howitzers adorned also in red, white, and blue, and an aura of expectation filled the air. Encircling the 4-Ring was McNair Barracks on one long side of the rectangle, a cemetery on the other long side, a major street (Goerzallee) on one short side, and a side street named Osteweg on the other short side. On the other side of Osteweg, Kolonie Schweizerland would be blooming in the summer air. This garden colony, one of many throughout Berlin, provided affluent Berliners who could afford it small plots of land which they could use for their gardening activities. Since Kolonie Schweizerland was in such close proximity to McNair Barracks, the band occasionally played "platz" concerts there during the summer. This was seen as a bit of public relations work to strengthen the relationship between the Berliners and the American forces. Having played several -platz concerts- there and in other garden colonies, I can say with certainty that the band's efforts helped considerably.

After the band's drum major would dress and align the band, the band would march to its starting location to perform pre-ceremonial music. This location was generally just in front of the reviewing stand, which was in the center of the 4-Ring. We'd generally play 15 to 20 minutes of appropriate marches prior to the ceremony commencing. No troops were yet on the field. Following pre-ceremonial music, the bandmaster would relinquish control of the band to the drum major, who would then march the band to its final position on the left flank of the entire formation, a distance of perhaps 300 meters away from the reviewing stand. Upon arrival at the final position, the band would receive a signal to march the troops on line and with that signal, the band would once again play marching music with a heavy bass drum beat on the left foot. The tempo might be a shade slower than the marches played during pre-ceremonial music to facilitate marching. Soon, the troops would begin appearing, marching out of their staging positions inside McNair Barracks and along Goerzallee, heading toward their final positions on the 4-Ring. This entire process might take as much as 30 minutes for all participating soldiers in the Berlin Brigade and the 7350^th Air Force Group to arrive at their final positions.

The Army's Field Manual 22-5 generally provided guidance for the conduct of the ceremony. For the sake of simplicity and some brevity, the ceremony consisted of six elements:

1. Arrival of troops (already completed)
2. Arrival of the Commander of Troops (COT) and his Staff
3. Honors to the Nation
4. The Ceremony itself
5. Remarks
6. Pass in Review

As in all ceremonies, the band plays a key role. Long before the troops arrive on the parade ground and long afterward, the band is there providing music and marching cadences. There were, however, a few interesting points that deserve mention:

The Adjutant's Strut: It is the Adjutant's job to instruct the formation to "Guide on Line", a process that brings troops up to the final formation line. This is relatively harmless task without a great deal of pomp. On the other hand, the other function of the Adjutant is to instruct the band to perform "Adjutant's Call" and to march in a hurried, extreme manner, almost a run/trot but not quite, sidearm flopping around in its holster, in an effort to make it to his position in front of the entire formation before the music stopped. (It never worked, though it never ceased to amaze me how much he would try, given the size of the formation.)

Sound Off: The traditional purpose of the Sound Off sequence was the opportunity for the band to honor the soldiers on the parade field. The band's maneuvers are one of precision marching and playing, both elements being critical to the performance. In short, the band plays three chords, steps off playing, executes a left turn in front of the troops, marches down to the end of the formation, executes a countermarch, and returns the way it came. This was the usual way it was done. But this was Berlin and nothing was treated in the "usual" manner. This is where things got a little tricky. First of all, the Brigade Commander, Brigadier General Leroy Suddath, had wanted the band to march a special step while the band marched past the reviewing stand. This step, which we called the "Queen Anne Step" was "borrowed" from the British Army. The step is characterized by the right foot coming alongside the left foot, halting momentarily and in rhythm, then continuing on. The left foot would then repeat what the right foot had just done. This had the effect of lending a very martial, dignified air to the occasion and it was just the thing to make the Commanding General's day. Right...

This Queen Anne thing was not something taught at the SOM. It was a special deal, cooked up by the CG. By God, we were going to do it. Orders, you see. Some of us even did it without falling on our faces. Initially, it was very awkward but with enough training and sweat, not to mention a dropped instrument or two, it became easier. We typically played Kenneth Alford's march "The Standard of St. George" at this juncture for a number of reasons. First, any Alford march was a good one. He was British, so that fit the occasion nicely. Second, the first strain of the march was actually a very long fanfare and when we'd just about run out of gas from pumping that much air downrange, we'd launch into the Trio of the march which was the point we were to execute the Queen Anne step. The Trio of the march was understated, melodic, and easy to memorize. Another good reason to play this particular one. And finally, the second strain within the Trio was the step-off point to return to Quick Time from the Queen Anne. The effect was pretty impressive, I must say. Everybody executes in unison, while playing a fairly interesting march.

The Sound Off was unquestionably the toughest part of the ceremony to do. Marching and playing had to be spot-on because the band was being scrutinized by hundreds of pairs of eyes. Nobody wanted to be the one who screwed up, dropped their instrument or a drum stick, or tripped and fell. Think about it. Here you are, playing a musical instrument. You're also reading music (most bandsmen did - I tried to memorize most everything, certainly the pieces to be played while marching); you're marching in a formation which requires you to constantly align yourself with the bandsman to either side of you, plus the one in front of you, and if you're a brass player, doing all of this while playing at a triple fortissimo. It's physically and mentally demanding, hard work for everyone. But you made it back to the starting point. The sweat is streaming and you're panting with exertion. But it's time to play again. The ceremony continues without allowing any time for rest.

The actual ceremony is characterized by a long narration which highlights the purpose of the ceremony and the significance of the flags on the parade field. When each State in the Union is named in order of joining the Union and each territory is named, a round is fired from the pack howitzer battery, which is lined up not too terribly far from the band and pointed right at us. The cannons roar and each flag is dipped in acknowledgement. The howitzers are a problem. They're loud, they emit a lot of smoke, and no matter how hard you steel yourself, you can't quite keep from jumping when the first round goes off. This happened in a big way to SP4 Hyland Brooks, saxophone player. He literally jumped a foot in the air. Following this most impressive of ceremonies, the COT commands the troops to come to the position of Parade Rest. The bandmaster then rather surreptiously instructs the band to bring Instruments Down. This means the musicians playing sousaphones, percussion, and trombones adopt a modified position of parade rest, which allows the instruments to be lowered gently to the ground during the upcoming speeches. The Reviewing Officer (usually the US Commander, Berlin, a two-star general) then gives a short speech.

Prior to the command "Pass in Review!" and in anticipation, the bandmaster and drum major exchange places in front of the band. Upon hearing the command, "Pass in Review", the unit to the right of the band gives and appropriate command for his unit to step off marching. The band also keys on this command. If everything goes well, everybody steps off at the same time with the same foot. If it doesn't go well, it's not the band's fault. The band does this kind of thing for a living. The Pass in Review is the final marching sequence of the ceremony. Each element marches in front of the reviewing stand and renders honors to the reviewing officer.The band, however, comes back for more. Once the band marches past the reviewing stand it executes three left turns, arriving back in front of the reviewing stand, playing marching music the entire time. The entire formation passes by to music. When the last element marches past, an eight-bar drum cadence is signaled. Following the cadence, the band begins playing "The Army Song". After the introduction, the band steps off in unison and executes a left turn at the direction of the drum major. Following the completion of the Army Song, the drum major signals a cut and to a drum tap till the band is halted and dismissed.

In later years, the band played post-ceremonial music prior to marching off the field. The time? Real close to 2 o'clock P.M. Total time spent on the field? About 3,5 hours. Tired? You bet. But the day has just begun, because now the band loads up the bus in a hurry and with Polizei and MP escort, blue bubbles spinning, the band heads off to the Harnack House for the reception hosted by the United States Commander, Berlin.

Upon arrival at the Harnack House (a.k.a. the Officer's Club), we offloaded our gear. A portion of the band, usually a combo or other small ensemble, would set up in an unobtrusive part of the outdoor setting where the reception was being held. The rest of the band went in the Harnack House (in the back door, of course) and eat reception-type food and drink lots of liquids. The combo would play while the invitees, all of them senior dignitaries and folks of that ilk, filtered in following the 4 -Ring ceremony. After a while of background music, it was time for the full band to put on a short presentation, generally after some speeches. The combo would eat while the rest of the band performed. Following the Harnack House gig, the stage band would then pack up, change uniform to dress blues, and head to Checkpoint Charlie.

The ambassador to East Germany, whose residence was in East Berlin, also had requested band support for his own reception. In 1983 and 1984, the band honored that request and provided the stage band for the outdoor garden party that he hosted. The band set up, played, got some lunch, and headed back to Checkpoint Charlie and eventually, Andrews for offloading of equipment and preparation for the final gig of the day - the concert and fireworks display. In 1983, this concert was performed at Wannsee. In subsequent years, the concert was performed at the Dreipfuhl Park, referred to as "The Duckpond" by the band.

The 1983 Wannsee concert was a spectacle not normally seen by the band in Berlin. Marketing and promotion for this concert was very good because there were literally thousands of people who attended. The band, set up very close to the water's edge, played upbeat and popular music arrangements of the day. The main piece, indeed considered a "must do" piece was Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture, arranged for wind symphony. This piece, written by Tchaikovsky to celebrate Russia's victory over Napoleon's forces in the early 19th century, featured cannon to augment the percussion in the final moments of the piece. While there was some controversy regarding the selection of this piece (keep in mind the Cold War against Soviet Russia was still very much a reality), the bandmaster's (CW3 Ratliff) decision to perform this piece stood.

In the northern latitudes, it doesn't get dark enough for fireworks until close to 10:00 P.M. So with the stage illuminated by lights, the band continued to play during the fireworks display. The concert was a huge success and the fireworks display was awesome. Following this performance of about two hours, the band members packed up the gear once again and headed back to Andrews. It was close to midnight before equipment was stored. This made for a very full day indeed.

With the conclusion of the Independence Day activities, the parade season was essentially over.