Checkpoint Able #1of2

In 1970 we arrived at Checkpoint Able, about fifty miles east of Hanover, and filled out papers needed to apply for permission to travel to West Berlin. A young lady in a military uniform very politely informed us that we had filled out the wrong form, but said we had filled them out beautifully, so back to step one.

They sold us new license plate that would be valid for the entire two hour drive. They just happened to have mounting brackets for sale so we could mount them on the vehicle.

At this point in the political history of the border, each morning they chose the day’s “irritation factor.” Some days they required a ten minute wait at the border, and other days perhaps an hour’s wait, but today they had selected forty-five minutes as long enough to wait before continuing.

While we waited for the time to pass, I went to the aid of a woman whose old car had overheated. That so impressed the East German Officer in charge that he directed us to leave early, ahead of many people who had been waiting before us.

At the West Berlin border, mirrors mounted on small wheels would be pushed under vehicles to make sure no one was hiding. Finally we thought we were on our way, then found there was one more stop, manned by an East German guard who looked really mean and nasty. Emmy’s picture had been taken without glasses, so when the guard barked, “Ohne Brille!” (without glasses), she took them off immediately. He passed our passports through a small opening in an opaque window, and we could hear bang, bang, bang as the rubber-stamps were applied.

Now he again carefully looked at the Lindas, stopped to look at Emmy, then approached me and held up three fingers, and said, “Drei frauen?” (Three women?) When I answered yes, the guard rolled his eyes sky-ward, clasped his hand to his cheek like Jack Benny, as if to say, “You poor fellow.”

As we left the last control point, young East German guards, high in a gun tower, held their machine guns in one hand, and threw kisses to the girls with the other.

Well, maybe they had to live and work in that society, but boys will be boys, just as long as blond and brunette teen-age girls continue to look like teen-age girls.