At the
conclusion of our time in Hamburg, Faith and I were joined by our two sons and drove to
the city of Greifswald in the former East Germany. Wade, who is the youngest of our
five sons, served in the Germany Berlin Mission and his two-year older brother
Mark (the San Pablo, Philippines Mission) had come
to Europe to pick us up and travel home with us. They went to Greifswald a day
or so ahead of us to allow us to finish checking out of the house and turning
it over to my successor. Greifswald had been the last city in which Wade had served and he had special feelings for the
place and the people.
We also visited
Denmark (where I had served a mission some 48 years earlier). On the way back
to Greifswald for a second visit, we stopped in the town of Ribnitz-Damgarten
for dinner. I knew there had been a Soviet airfield there but did not know
exactly where it was. After dinner I ventured out onto the town square,
accosted a local native and asked him if he knew where the airfield was. “Oh,
Ja,” he replied and proceeded to show me on my map the exact location of the
airfield. The idea of visiting that airfield began to ferment in my mind.
During the trip to Berlin a few months earlier, we had found the Soviet
airfield near Jüterbog Altes Lager and I had driven onto the main runway at the
airfield shouted loudly “we won!” and left after taking a few photos –
obviously not appropriate behavior for a mission president, but it felt good.
In conversation with
the man on the town square in Ribnitz, I learned that I could not possibly
visit the Damgarten airfield that day since it was all closed down for the day
but if would return the following day, it might be possible. I decided to try
anyway. My wife, Mark and Wade were tolerant and went along with the idea not
knowing what to expect.
Not knowing
where exactly the airfield was, we entered a road that led into some woods. A couple
of kilometers down this road I saw what appeared to be an apparition. There,
standing at a stop sign in the road was a young man dressed in a field uniform
of the former East Germany Army. This was simply too realistic! No one had worn
East Germany uniforms for more than 12 years, but sure as could be there stood
a young man in such a uniform. He flagged me down and emphasized there was no
way I could venture further down that road that evening. I persisted, finally
he made a phone call on his cell phone, returned and told me to drive ahead and
report to an administrative section I would encounter further down the road.
Not knowing what to expect, we drove on. Finally as I was about to despair and
Faith was very frightened, we came upon an
encampment of perhaps a hundred young men – all of whom were dressed in either
East German or Soviet field uniforms. At this point, Faith was deeply concerned for our
safety. But I got out of the car and approached the group of men nearest to
where the car was parked walking around the makeshift barrier they had set up.
I introduced myself in German and explained I was an American. One of the men
responded sarcastically, “Oh, that is nice.” But when I explained I just wanted
to visit the runway of the airfield, they settled down and became friendlier.
One man and a boy who looked to be about 16 (dressed in an old Soviet Army
field uniform) got in a car and led us to a small road where we could enter the
airfield and drive upon on one of the taxiways. Sure enough we were on the
Damgarten airfield. It was overgrown with grass and weeds but the hangarettes
were still there, hidden in the trees with no doors. We drove close to one then
turned around and left the airfield. Once again, I exulted. “We won,” I yelled,
then for good measure said “Wir haben gewonnen” then added “Pobeda nasha” just
for effect.
I never found
out what the hundred or so men were doing at an encampment in the woods dressed
in old East German and Soviet uniforms. I suppose I should have asked, but I
didn’t. They reminded me of those ill-conceived militia organizations that
sometimes spring up in response to some policy or practice that some people
don’t like.
