“From Stettin in the Baltic to Trieste in the Adriatic, an iron curtain has descended across the Continent.” Sir Winston Churchill

Flashpoint of the Cold War

There’s a little town in central Germany called Melpers, tucked into a picture postcard valley in Thuringia. About a hundred people live there today. A fine road connects Melpers with the closest town in Bavaria—Oberfladungen—which is a lovely spot in its own right. It’s a three-minute drive between the towns, or if you prefer to walk, about 30 minutes. You’ll find a wandering path that parallels the road. Take my advice: go for the walk. You won’t regret the time spent.

As you can see from the above photo, Melpers lies in the picturesque landscape of the Rhoen Mountains, one of Europe’s prettiest spots. With wonderful people, great food, and stunning vistas, the Rhoen has been designated by UNESCO as a Biospehere Reserve.

Thuringia and Bavaria are German Laender, not so different from our own states in the U.S.A. Going from one to the other is no harder than driving from, say, Maryland to Virginia. No problem. Hop in the car, and off you go. But it wasn’t always like that. Not by a long shot.

During the Cold War, the Rhoen presented a completely different face than it does today. Although the hills, forests and towns were basically like they are now, an ugly and twisted barrier cut across the land. As Sir Winston Churchill noted in his famous speech, this Iron Curtain cut Europe in two. It was a potential flash point between NATO and the Warsaw Pact for over forty years.

The border divided the two Germanies, sealing in the East German people. But the fences, minefields, and watchtowers also cut off ancient ties between villages and towns. Although only three kilometers lay between Oberfladungen and Melpers, they existed in two different worlds. The people of one lived in freedom, those of the other under the yoke of Communism.

The Blackhorse kept a constant watch on the Warsaw Pact forces that we could see from our side of the border. Every day, we checked which of their signal intelligence and radar sites were operating. Our patrols observed and reported the East German border troops’ activities, including helicopter flights, construction, and patrols. We received specialized training to recognize the difference between their routine operations and indicators of a possible Warsaw Pact attack on NATO.

“Whoever does not respect our border will feel a bullet.” Gen. Heinz Hoffmann, East German Minister of Defense

On freedom’s frontier

I learned about the Rhoen during my service with the 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment between 1985-89. The Blackhorse stood on guard across 385 kilometers (note 2) on the border between West and East Germany. Every day, we went out to the border, which we called ‘the trace,’ where we ran foot and jeep patrols, manned observation posts and showed the flag for our friends in West Germany. Our presence also served as a reminder to the Warsaw Pact that the U.S. Army stood ready.

In November 1985, I got my first look at Melpers during one of our patrols. We stood on an overlook with East German fences, patrol roads and guard towers stretching off into the distance of a wintry day. My patrol leader, SSgt Dennis Kalista pointed at the fortifications and said, “That’s why we’re here.”

As we drove through the paths and lanes of the Rhoen that snowy day, I immediately fell in love with the country I was seeing for the first time. Our drivers maneuvered our four-wheel-drive jeeps from one checkpoint to the next as we reported on the Warsaw Pact activity on the other side of the border. For me, everything was new and vivid. The countryside’s quiet beauty presented a sharp contrast with the stark and imposing East German border barriers.

Our travels didn’t take us to Melpers every day since we ran patrols based on a schedule set by our headquarters. But I always looked forward to missions in the Rhoen during my years with the Blackhorse. The local people seemed to genuinely like us and always waved as we drove past. When we stopped at bakeries and butchers to buy lunch, the shopkeepers greeted us cheerfully.

Have bratwurst, will travel

Not far from Melpers on the Hochrhoenstrasse, there was an Imbiss (snack shop) that sold snacks, soda pop and border mementoes. In the 80s, it was only open in the warmer months. The borders of Bavaria, Hesse, and Thuringia all met nearby and tourists flocked to the area in the summer. Plus, the Imbiss had a grill and sold the best bratwurst for miles around. Anyway, if the choice was either sack lunches from the mess hall or bratwurst, there was no debate about which was better.

We in the Blackhorse called this Imbiss “the bratwurst stand” and if we were on patrol anywhere close around lunch time, the great food more than made up for the extra time it added to drive back and forth from our route. I still remember the fantastic smell of roasting sausages as we waited in the summer sunshine for our orders. If the lines were especially long, the clerks often took our orders first since they knew we were on a schedule and had to get back to the border.

The case of the missing binoculars

In the winter of 1987-88 we were issued with brand new Steiner M22 binoculars to replace the old Vietnam era binos we had been using. On a snowy day right after we got our Steiners, my platoon conducted a border patrol with our six Bradley Fighting Vehicles. Our sections split up to cover the assigned patrol sector, and as dusk fell we linked back up at an empty parking lot to return to our border camp. Every track commander checked his crew to account for weapons, sensitive items (like binos) and ammunition.

One of our two-track sections had visited the checkpoint at Melpers earlier, and as luck had it, couldn’t find a set of binos. If you’ve spent more than a day in the Army, you know that there’s no such thing as “we can’t find our binoculars.” So with snow falling as night fell, we stopped everything to figure out where the missing binos were.

After a thorough search, it became clear that the binos were definitely not on either of the tracks that had visited the Melpers checkpoint. The crew finally remembered where they last used the binos. The observer said he remembered placing them on the back of the track at Melpers. At this point, we all knew dinner at our border camp was a long way off.

Our platoon sergeant sent two tracks with about fifteen troopers back to the checkpoint. I spoke German and often interpreted for the platoon, so I got voluntold to go along. It was totally dark by the time we got back to the checkpoint, and everybody spread out with flashlights.

All this activity must have presented an unusual situation to the East German border troops. They paid close attention to what we did on our side of the border, and I can only imagine what they were thinking as they watched us wandering around in search of the missing binos. After one of their patrols watched us for a while, a bunch of their guys arrived with spotlights to see what we were up to.

To complete the party, a patrol of the Bavarian Border Police (B.B.P.) also showed up. I explained what we were doing and one of them walked over to the border. He yelled across that it was no big deal, we were searching for some lost binoculars and the East Germans could all go back to their tower.

The two West German officers came back over and asked me a few questions. Then one of them shrugged his shoulders, saying in a thick Bavarian accent, “You will never find them. A farmer is sitting his his kitchen right now thinking how lucky he is to have found these new American binoculars.” Then they left.

It was long past dinner time when we finally decided that the B.B.P. guys were right and our binoculars were long gone. We all loaded up for the hour-long road march back to the border camp. My memory of hot chow that night is long forgotten, but I’ll never forget the case of the missing binoculars. I wonder if that farmer still has those Steiners.

Two countries become one

Before reunification, the border between West and East Germany was often called die gruene Grenze (the green border) since long stretches ran through woodland. Today, people call the old border das gruene Band (the Green Belt). East German fortifications are preserved in some places as memorials, but most of the fences, towers, and dog runs were torn down long ago. Wandering trails have replaced what the East Germans built and the band serves as a nature sanctuary. The scars have healed into a green strip still visible from space. It is a peaceful place, but still full of memories.

In the past fifteen or so years, I’ve visited the Rhoen several times. I don’t need GPS or a map when I travel the old paths and roads. For me, it feels almost like coming home. I crossed the old border between Oberfladungen and Melpers for the first time in 2007. I’ll never forget the emotions that welled up in me.

When I took that step, I was deeply moved. Back in the day, the border seemed permanent and in the 80s I never imagined a time without the fortifications. But that day came nonetheless. My step in 2007 felt like closing a circle in my life. It doesn’t happen too often that you can point to something big, something important, and say “I helped change that.”

My battle buddies and I never fired a shot in anger during our service in Germany. We never even chambered a live round on border duty. Maybe that is our testament. Each of us can say with pride and humility: I served in a great regiment. I rode on freedom’s frontier with the Blackhorse.

Never forget, Mark

Notes

1. This well-known passage is extracted from Sir Winston Churchill’s Sinews of Peace speech at Westminster College, Fulton, Missouri. 5 March 1946.
2. Page 210, “U.S. Army Border Operations in Germany, 1945-83” by William E. Stacy, Headquarters, US Army, Europe and 7th Army, 1984.