bloc life archive #: 1
Contributor: Comrade Andy
Location: Berlin, Germany
In 1979, I lived in Berlin. In the middle of the night my father would open the door to two large men. They always drove a camouflaged car, which in the winter was white to match the snow.
My father was a spy and made no secret of the fact – to the Russians at least. During the Cold War an agreement existed by which spies could enter the USSR without issue if they declared their occupation on their papers, and vice versa. The agreement was simple, we have spies in your country, you have spies in ours, now just no one get caught and we can have a jolly good war.
The main objective of my father’s work was to observe the Warsaw pact was being followed, for example relating to troop movements close to the border. They would speed off over the Glienicke Bridge, which was famous for being a transfer point for spies, and then show their papers at the Russian control point. I remember my father saying they employed the best drivers around to be part of the team to ensure they could escape any tight spots should they arise. Once, they were chased by some Russians down a forest dirt track and the whole escape had to happen in reverse under gun fire, as there was nowhere to turn round. Those guys knew how to drive.
I enjoyed some privileges: I was allowed to exchange East German Deutsch Marks to West German Marks at an exchange rate 1 West to 30 East. The general rule for tourists at Checkpoint Charlie was 1:1. The authorities equalised the currencies artificially to try and encourage purchases over in East Germany, but this failed. The products they sold were about 20 years out of date, or they would stock just one size of Wellington boot, but only the left foot.For some reason plugs for sinks were really wanted as they never seemed to have any in the shops. For six months the bike shops only stocked girls’ bikes.
I didn’t spend that much in the East side of Berlin. We used to do these cultural exchanges with East German kids that they used to bus in to look at buildings and history. Most of my time was spent drinking. Although I was only 14 at the time, West Berlin at the time was full of military and regarded as the safest city in the world. I was allowed to roam carefree as a son of the protected military. My pass was written in French, German, Russian and English and pretty much ensured I was imune from trouble by the local police.
They didn’t care for a military boy – after all I was someone else’s problem.
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