Berlin Part II - Spying on the Soviets as a Second Lieutenant

First Military Assignment. I was initially assigned as the Air Force Operations Officer in a joint refugee interrogation and processing center. At the time, it was called Joint Overt Interrogation Center, Berlin. Later, it was called Joint Refugee Operations Center. People exiting East Germany were processed through a system, which allowed allied intelligence to question them. The Army, Navy, and CIA were all represented in the center, and I thus gained an early introduction to inter-service rivalries and squabbles.

USMLM. Hardly three months after beginning this assignment, I attended a party at my boss's home. A strange little fellow, Major Matt Warren, was present and dominated the conversation with tales of his experiences in East Germany. Most of what he said sounded so impossible that I ignored the man. In fact, under my breath I repeatedly said, “That is bullshit.” However, a few days later I received a telephone call from this same major, requesting me to meet him in the officer's club that evening after work. I was a second lieutenant; he was a major. I complied with his request. As I entered the club, he confronted me with belligerent questions voiced in the Russian language. "What are you doing here," he demanded. I replied using the Russian double negative, I said that I was not doing nothing. The answer seemed to please him. Immediately, he told me that I was going to work for him in the United States Military Liaison Mission (USMLM) to the Commander of Soviet Forces in Germany. He noted that my new assignment had already been cleared with the headquarters in Frankfurt. I was completely shocked but also pleased.

The commander of my regular unit was not pleased. If I recall correctly, I was the only company grade officer in his outfit; he was angry and got my orders canceled. Nonetheless, I was sent to USMLM on temporary duty, which kept getting extended. Eventually, I received permanent change of duty orders.

When I reported in to the chief of the mission, an army full colonel named Ernst von Pawel, it came as a complete shock to him. I was left standing outside his office as the executive officer went in to inform him that I was there. The next sounds I heard from the office were: "a *&%$#@#* Second Lieutenant!" His outburst left me shaken. For a moment I remembered my mother’s oft-voiced sentiment that the only people who stayed in the military were lower class. But he had a point; I was untrained and a complete neophyte. Comparable army officers had been trained for four years for this assignment and all were at least captains.

The mission’s offices were located on Föhrenweg in West Berlin. This building was once the secret headquarters of Field Marshal Wilhelm Keitel, wartime Chief of Staff of Hitler’s military supreme command.  The lower two floors were bomb proof with steel reinforced concrete floors two or three feet thick and walls of similar material. The ground floor contained mess facilities and there was an L shaped underground escape tunnel with special air funnels. But officially, our headquarters were in the Potsdam House located on a 4.5 acre estate located on the Lehnitzsee in the village of Neufahrland, near Potsdam. The estate was built in 1903 by a Prussian Army officer of the von Duehringshofen family, which was ennobled in 1649 for military feats during the Thirty Years War. The family coat of arms can still be seen on the side of the main building. In 1947, with the signing of the Huebner-Malinin agreement, which established the USMLM and the Soviet Mission in Frankfurt, the estate became US property. Article 13 of the agreement guarantees the  Mission House “...full rights of extraterritoriality.” The USMLM Mission House was the only official American presence in East Germany until 1974, when diplomatic relations were established between the two countries. Potsdam House

From late 1961 to approximately April of 1963, I traveled two, three, and even four days a week in what was at that time called the Soviet Zone of Germany. The little major who had hired me, seemed determined that there should be a huge gap in the performance of the unit after he departed and therefore fired every officer on the team, except me, prior to his departure. Thus as a second lieutenant, I effectively ran the operation with the assistance of a couple of non-commissioned officers until a new chief of the air team was assigned.

With some vividness, I recall the first trip I took into East Germany. My heart pounded as we crossed the Glienicke Brücke from West Berlin, through the Russian checkpoint, and into Potsdam. Adrenalin surged through my body and provided me with an exhilaration I was to experience many times in the future. After an hour or so drive, we were at Wittstock Airfield. The Ground Control Intercept (GCI) radar on the field was rotating, and Soviet MiG-19 aircraft were taking off and landing. At the time, I thought this was the most exciting thing I had ever done. However, much more excitement lay ahead.

USMLM Credentials

Each trip was an adventure full of thrills, daring, and often complete fool heartiness. During 1962, I was captured and detained by the Russians six times for alleged violations of one sort or the other. My driver was Sergeant Melvin E. Ratz. He and I were approximately the same age and shared similar dispositions. The Russians were enemies, and we were going to cause them all the difficulty we could. Our boss was Lieutenant Colonel Benjamin Gordon, one of the finest men I have ever known. He, however, had suffered a heart attack and needed to be careful; thus he did not spend as much time in East Germany. It was simply too exciting and dangerous for a weak heart. That left Mel and me the responsibility of wreaking as much havoc as possible in the East. My experience and my training had taught me that the Soviets were my enemy. I believed they were and was consumed by the desire to inflict as much damage as I could upon them by learning their secrets.

Mission Restriction Signs

The civilian economy was in wreckage. Fresh fruits were unheard of, so we would carry a supply of bananas and oranges with us to the countryside as if to emphasize the inability of communism to look after its citizens. Children from many walks of life would gather about as we passed out American made bubble gum. Each trip we exhausted a supply of American cigarettes by handing them to people we met in the East. This, too, was waging the Cold War.

USMLM Patch

 Every Soviet and East German military installation was ringed with mission restriction signs in four languages, which forbade members of the three military missions from getting closer. All the more sensitive military facilities were located in permanent restricted areas where we were forever forbidden to go. Official policy decreed that we would not violate these signs nor enter into the permanently restricted areas. Unofficially, however, it was understood that we had to violate these restrictions in order to collect quality intelligence. Lt. Col. Gordon understood this and thus gave us the green light to do what was necessary to get the job done.

Berlin Part I

Free University of Berlin. On September 8, 1960, I entered the United States Air Force. My initial assignment was with the Air Force Institute of Technology with my duty station at the Free University of Berlin in West Berlin, Germany as a Fulbright Fellow. I processed in at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, Ohio and one day later was sworn in as a regular Air Force officer.

I left Faith and the baby in Utah and proceeded to Germany. As soon as it was feasible, I sent for them. Prior to their arrival, I lived with Dr. and Mrs. Gerhardt Lütgert as part of the Fulbright exchange program and gained a number of insights into German domestic life. I grew fond of the Lütgerts and appreciated the opportunity they afforded me to live with a German family. When Faith and the baby arrived we lived for a short time in a rather dreadful apartment on Hüttenweg; later we moved to a more acceptable place on Thielallee.

At the university, I was left to study and pursue my interests pretty much as I pleased. The major portion of my time was spent studying German and German literature, but I also took classes in the Yugoslavian language (Serbo-Croatian), Danish literature, Swedish, and old Nordic. I even took a few classes in French at the Maison de France on Kurfürstendam. I was supposed to study Russian, but found that translating from Russian into German, in a very large class, exceeded both my linguistic ability and my self-confidence.

At the end of the academic year, it had been my intention to return to the United States to attend flight training. I had wanted to be a pilot, although my enthusiasm had been dramatically dampened by my experience with spins in the Aeronica Champ. In Berlin, I had made contacts with the Air Force community, especially those from intelligence. Thus, I was offered the opportunity to remain in Berlin as an intelligence officer with the 7000th Support Wing, whose headquarters were at Rhein-Main Air Base in Frankfurt. I elected to remain in Berlin, since they would then refund my expenses for bringing Faith and Kurt from Utah, and we were quite comfortable in Berlin. Before assuming my new job, I took leave and traveled to Austria, Yugoslavia, and Northern Italy.

Berlin was an extremely interesting place in the early 1960s. Among other things, it was a nest of spies. The city was full of intelligence operatives from almost every country, and thus one could be confident that at least half of one's acquaintances were involved in some facet of intelligence work, if not pure espionage. On May Day 1961, while still a student, I went to East Berlin, stood in the crowd, and took pictures of the East German Army parade with all its military equipment. I later learned that the U.S. intelligence community had not dared to send its own people to do the same on an official basis. East Berlin still bore many of the scars of the bombing it had received during World War II and was generally dismal and depressing. Tens of thousands of people were voting with their feet each month to resettle in West Berlin and West Germany. We even had a cleaning lady who came once a week from East Berlin to earn a few West German marks.

At that time, one could pass freely through the Brandenburg Gate to and from West Berlin. Many East Germans crossed over to West Berlin to seek employment. There was an atmosphere of pseudo-tranquility among the people while Western politicians stewed and fretted over Soviet intentions. But people were also leaving East Germany in droves. Many who left were highly educated professionals, thus one could speak of a brain drain.

The Berlin Wall. On August 13, 1961, those of us living in the divided city of Berlin arose from our beds to the news that East Berlin was being sealed off from West Berlin. Few people really understood what had happened, and some even scoffed at the idea that barbed wire or even a wall could keep people apart. Curiosity drove me to visit the border near the Brandenburg Gate that very evening. A large group of West Berliners had gathered on the western side and were shouting obscenities at those involved in enforcing the separation. Elements of the East German Kampfgruppen,  a paramilitary organization designed to manifest the absolute rule of the proletariat in East Germany joined police and border security guards to create a ubiquitous security presence where workers erected the wall. They had a huge water cannon that was aimed at those on the Western side who got close enough to make threats against this new division of their city. It was not long before the East Germans began replacing concertina wire with a wall constructed of large cement blocks and mortar. Soon, a feat, which would have seemed impossible, had it simply been proposed, became a reality as the infamous Berlin Wall was built. As the wall supplanted the barbed wire, it quickly became the symbol of a failed system, of a regime unable to fulfill the needs of its citizens. It was clear from that moment that a society, which had to keep its people hostage, was doomed to fail. The Wall became, I think, the visible incarnation of the Cold War. The amount of resources it took to build the wall was staggering, but it soon turned out to be the best investment East Berlin could make as it kept its people inside, and forced them to make their peace, at least temporarily, with communism.

During this time, the Western Allies in Berlin were on various stages of alert. For a time, U.S. tanks faced Soviet tanks across Friedrichstraße with only a 100-yard separation. Our neighbor upstairs in the same stairwell was commander of a company of 40th armor in Berlin, and we thus gained special insights into his situation during the faceoff.  We also visited the site of the faceoff. Somehow, no shots were ever fired, and each army finally withdrew its tanks – first to a bivouac area, and then back to their garrisons.

I was a brand new Second Lieutenant in the U.S. Air Force, assigned first to study German at the Free University of Berlin and subsequently as an intelligence officer. My family was told to pack bags containing only emergency supplies in the event that they should have to be evacuated. Supplies of military K-rations were made available.

These were tense times. No one knew whether, by an act of will or by accident, the tanks might fire on each other. We were not privy to discussions in the Washington bureaucracy or to the deliberations of the Politburo. For us, we only had to do our duty and participate in the defense of West Berlin should the other side make an offensive move. But each side held its ground, until little by little the opposing tanks withdrew to positions where they were no longer staring down each other's gun barrels.

In my eight years in the divided city, East Berlin never stopped working on the wall, undertaking the impossible task of making it aesthetically more pleasing, as well as re-enforcing its principle purpose. Life, albeit somewhat strained, went on pretty much as normal. Espionage organizations from many, many countries now faced the difficult task of re-establishing contact with their agents on the other side of the Wall. Every scrap of information was scrutinized, analyzed, and fused with that from other sources. Information on intentions and capabilities were of paramount importance.

The Berlin airlift some years earlier had demonstrated the political will of the West to protect the citizens of West Berlin from a communist takeover. U.S. re-enforcements were sent to Berlin, crossing from Helmstedt via the autobahn to the crossing point at Berlin-Babelsberg. There was concern that conflict could arise from that act, but the crossing was made without incident. Vice President Lyndon B. Johnson was there when they arrived. President John F. Kennedy visited Berlin and on the balcony of the Schöneberger Rathaus said with a clear and steady voice, Ich bin ein Berliner. In that moment West Berliners and their occupying forces (for they were actual occupiers) became as one. Every American became ein Berliner. There was no war, no major hostilities involving armed units, only the slow business of getting on with life in the divided city, now defined by its hideous shrine to a failed system. For 28 years, the Wall stood until the hope of a better life emboldened young people to speak out en masse.

Graduation, Commissioning, and Kurt

Soon after Faith and I were married, I began my senior year at Utah State University. This year was filled with so many events and successes that were so significant that it is difficult to discuss them without making a list. Soon after school commenced, I was ordained a High Priest by Elder Delbert L. Stapley of the Quorum of the Twelve and set apart as second counselor in the Bishopric of the University Stake Third Ward. I was not yet 24 years old. The Bishop was Dr. Sterling Taylor, a professor in the university Agronomy Department. He was a deeply sincere, religious man who possessed great compassion for the youth of the church, but he impressed me as being quite intolerant of those human frailties one often refers to as sin. As I reflect on my activities as a twenty-three year old member of a Bishopric, I recollect the joy of being involved in spiritual matters. This coupled with my first year of married life made for a most pleasant experience.

I was also selected to be the Cadet Colonel of the AFROTC detachment and Commander of Arnold Air Society. I became enchanted with military activities and of the idea of becoming an Air Force officer. I had also been elected to the student senate to represent the independent students. These leadership responsibilities, in addition to academics and being a new husband, kept me extremely busy. However, the year went by extremely quickly and soon I was facing the prospects of graduation. Faith worked to provide an income with which to cover household expenses. I worked in the language lab for the same purpose.

In the early spring the campus advisor for the Fulbright Commission visited me and encouraged me to apply for a Fulbright Fellowship. I was less than enthusiastic about the scholarship since I was motivated toward being an Air Force pilot. I had finished summer camp at McChord Air Force Base, Washington the previous year as a distinguished graduate and I was looking forward to a regular commission in the Air Force. Nevertheless, I filled out the paperwork, went to state competition, and much to my surprise won the Fulbright for a year's study at the Free University of Berlin. This honor was quickly followed by others as the academic year drew to a close. Among these were selections as the university's Oscar Award winner as "Man of the Year,” nomination to Who’s Who in American Colleges and Universities, Blue Key, Distinguished Graduate of AFROTC, and other less significant awards.

The citation that accompanied my selection as Man of the Year read: Lynn has served the student body as Independent Senator and was instrumental in the organization of the Independent Council, which has been successful in generating interest among the independent students in campus government and activities. He has served as Group Cadet Commander of the Air Force R.O.T.C., was commander of the Arnold Air Society, was chairman of the Governor's Military Ball, was offered a regular USAF commission, he was appointed to Who’s Who in American Colleges and Universities, is a member of Alpha Sigma Nu, Blue Key, and Delta Phi. Mr. Hansen was recently awarded a Fulbright Scholarship for a year's study at the Free University in Berlin. As a scholar, a leader, a vital personality in campus affairs, Mr. Hansen is the recipient of the 1960 Utah State University Oscar Award as the Man of the Year.

All Air Force cadets who met the physical standards were expected to become pilots after graduation. I thought this was a splendid idea, but all my life I had had difficulty with motion sickness. Nonetheless, the idea of darting about the skies in a jet was enormously appealing. So I, like my colleagues, began a program of flight instruction provided by a local contractor at Logan airport. Ground school was a breeze. I learned about the Weems plotter and other tools used to flight plan. For reasons I did not understand, the chemistry between the flight instructor and me was not very positive. I did not like him sitting behind me criticizing the fact that I didn’t do stalls very well. The plane was primitive, an Aeronica champ, with an eighty-five horsepower engine. It had something called carb heat, a throttle, an altimeter, and an air speed indicator but little else. As soon as I began to solo, I liked flying a lot better. I was in charge. I flew to a small airport in Salt Lake County; I landed on a dirt runway in Preston, Idaho. This was great fun.

Then near the end of the training, we were forced to do spins in that small airplane. The instructor was with me. We climbed as high as that small engine would take us, pulled back the throttle, kicked one rudder pedal, and stalled the aircraft. Soon, I was looking straight down at the earth as we spun toward it. A terrible sound like the one heard when a plane is shot down in war movies accentuated our predicament. I was terrified. And I was sick; I vomited into my baseball cap. After we landed, the instructor got out and I flew solo for another half hour or so. My fondness for flying all but disappeared that day.

On June 4, 1960, I received a Bachelor of Science degree with a major in German and a dual minor of Russian and physical education. On the same day, I received a reserve commission as a Second Lieutenant in the United States Air Force.

Pending entering active duty in the Air Force, I worked in the Logan, Utah city cemetery mowing lawns and digging graves. In fact, my oldest child's birth certificate identifies me as a cemetery caretaker.

When Faith did not become pregnant the first month we were married, I was disappointed. Without regard to any other consideration, I wanted a son. Consequently, I was overjoyed when she told me in the second month of our marriage that she was indeed pregnant. The two of us reveled in this event and looked forward with great expectations to our son's birth.

When school was over, we moved to Clarkston, Utah and we lived in Uncle Colleen and Aunt Sadie's house there. This arrangement served us very well, as we didn't have to pay much rent. The house was also nice and very comfortable. It had been the childhood home of my mother, so in a way it was a special place.

On July 29, 1960, Faith awakened me early in the morning with the news that the baby was about to put in an appearance. We drove to the Logan LDS hospital. I was consigned to the waiting room. After several hours of difficult labor, Kurt Lynn  was born in the early afternoon. The birth of a child is always a miraculous thing. For me it was also the fulfillment of a strong desire I had felt for years. My wife had given me a healthy, strong baby boy for which I loved and appreciated her greatly. Faith had gone through the pregnancy with hardly a whimper and even during the trying hours of labor, she was strong and brave as a Spartan.