Second Volume of the Berlin Tunnel Trilogy
Historical Fiction
To Be Published: September 8, 2020
From Amazon bestsellers list author Roger L. Liles comes the second volume of his Cold War trilogy—THE COLD WAR BEGINS. The setting is war-ravaged Berlin in late 1946. Spies from both sides begin to move with relative ease throughout a Germany occupied by British, French, American and Russian military forces. Kurt Altschuler, our hero, soon becomes one of them.
While working behind enemy lines as an OSS agent in France during World War II, Kurt learns that intelligence collection involves both exhilarating and dangerous encounters with the enemy. He relished every moment he spent as part of the vanguard confronting the Nazis.
That war has been over for 18 months when he is offered a job as a CIA deep-cover agent in the devastated and divided city of Berlin. He jumps at the opportunity, but is concerned that his guise as an Associated Press News Agency reporter will offer little action. He need not worry. Soon, he is working undercover, deep inside of Russian-controlled southeastern Germany. Eventually, KGB agents waylay him and tear his car and luggage apart. His chauffeur is beaten. He is threatened with prison, torture and death.
Enter Erica Hoffmann, a very attractive, aspiring East German archeology student. Any relationship between an undercover CIA agent and an East German woman is strictly forbidden; she might be a KGB or Stasi agent or operative. But he cannot help himself—he has fallen hard for her. Kurt strives assiduously to maintain their tempestuous, star-crossed relationship.
Eventually, Kurt works to counter the efforts of Russian and East German spies, especially a mole who is devastating Western Intelligence assets throughout Europe. He also must work to identify and expose enemy spies who have penetrated the very fabric of the West German government and society. He frequently observes to others that: “the spy business is like knife fighting in a dark closet; you know you’re going to be cut up, you just don’t know how bad.”
PART 1
1946-1950
“A tough struggle is going on in back alleys
all over the world
in which no quarter is asked and none given.”
Dean
Rusk, U.S. Secretary of State, 1961-1969, speaking on the important role
espionage and counter-espionage played in the Cold War.
Chapter 1
Kurt
Sunday, November 19, 1961
I have been in Berlin on the front lines of
the Cold War almost continuously for the last 15 years. Earlier today, I had an
armed confrontation with the East German Secret Police (Stasi) in an abandoned
warehouse in East Berlin and was severely wounded. Now, I’m the only person
involved in the shootout who is still alive. I’m slowly dying, but if somehow I
survive, my superiors in the American Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) will
demand that I tell them how the shoot-out occurred and why Thomas Lane, my
fellow CIA agent, was killed. By the way, my name is Kurt Altschuler.
Is the story I’m going to tell them entirely
true? No! But I hope it is close enough to the facts revealed by the physical
evidence around me to hide what happened. If my version is not believed, my
close friends and I might be tried in a court of law and sent to prison.
As I tell my version of what happened to my
superiors, I will be interrupted with an almost constant barrage of questions.
That will mean that my story must be consistent and believable.
My story would start something like this;
“We were preparing to reseal the tunnel after the extraction of the husband and
wife double agents and their family. You all have the required security
clearance to know the why of the tunnel—it was built into East Berlin so that
American intelligence agencies could tap into the communications between
communist East Germany, Warsaw Pact, and Russian military and political
leaders. During the tunnel’s construction, the top of an East Berlin storm
drain was severed and resealed. By reopening that portal, we had unfettered
access to that area of abandoned factories and warehouses in southeastern
Berlin. We had brought our double agents to the West via that route earlier in
the day.
“Thomas Lane, my boss returned to the
building where the tunnel entrance was located and requested that I take him
through the entire extraction process. I objected, explaining that it would be
best to just reseal the tunnel—a process that would take several hours. He
insisted and I eventually relented and took him down through the tunnel which
runs under the River Spree. We used a hole in the tunnel floor to enter the
storm drain. After a quarter of a mile walk, I pushed up a manhole cover. We entered
the courtyard of a derelict factory.
“We walked several blocks to a ramshackle
vehicle-tire warehouse that had been abandoned since the end of World War II.
This is where I had met the double agents earlier that day. During this
needless excursion, I figured out what Thomas Lane was doing—he wanted these
details to claim that he had personally conducted the harrowing extraction of
the eight people in the double agent’s group. This might help him get the
promotion I knew he craved.
This assertion would certainly get the
attention of my superiors. Perhaps this would divert them from asking questions
I did not want to answer.
“As I was showing him the exact spot where I
met that group, three Stasi Agents, guns drawn, entered the driveway that led
to the loading dock we were standing on. They must have seen us as we walked
into this building. Perhaps they had been following our double agents earlier,
had lost them, but had not given up their search.
“We ignored their
orders to stop, entered the loading dock door to the warehouse, and drew our
weapons. I
took a position behind a steel pillar. Agent Lane crawled over and
eventually took cover behind a low wall on the loading dock itself. He took
the firing stance we had been taught in CIA weapons training; he knelt on his
right knee and took his weapon in both hands. We both tensed, feeling the
adrenalin rush that always occurs before an impending encounter with the enemy.
“Both of us were armed with the
standard CIA-issued weapon—the Browning Special semi-automatic pistol. It’s an
exceptional weapon because the energy of each fired cartridge automatically
advances the next available cartridge into position for firing.
Here I was currying my
superior’s favor by bragging about CIA agents’ training and weapons.
“The Stasi spread out and took turns
scrambling from the protection of one piece of discarded junk to the next. Soon
they were halfway across the loading dock’s broad driveway. Following standard
CIA tactics, we waited until we could pin all three of them down before we
fired our first shot. The sun was just setting. Their vehicle was undoubtedly
equipped with a two-way radio and they could have retreated and called for
help. Their leader had decided that he’d best conclude the confrontation
quickly. Darkness might give us a chance to escape.
“Eventually,
Thomas pointed and gestured for me to cover the two Stasi on the left. He took
aim where he expected the man on our right to expose himself on his next move
forward. I heard Thomas fire his weapon twice. A deafening BANG-BANG occurred
and out of the corner of my eye, I saw the barrel of his weapon jerk up
slightly each time. Someone cried out the word ‘Scheisse’ (‘shit!’),
followed by an almost imperceptible thud as he hit the ground. The smell of
cordite filled the air and my ears rang.
“I remember
thinking at the time, one down, two to go. I was both surprised and
amazed that Lane who has no field experience was performing well.
“Both of us
now turned our weapons toward the surviving two Stasi Agents. Through hand
signals the two of us agreed that I would cover the Stasi agent on our left; he
the one on the right.
“Unfortunately,
the Stasi agents used the muzzle flashes from Thomas’ weapon to determine where
he was. Using hand signals, they both fired several rounds at us. One hit my
metal post with a reverberating thud; another hit the metal door frame next to
me, glanced off and continued to ricochet off surfaces in the warehouse itself.
Thomas stayed behind the low wall. I used a slot in my post to observe and
report their movements to him. When one exposed himself, I fired three rounds
at him. He quickly scrambled back to his original position.
“At this
point, I whispered loud enough for Thomas to hear—‘We’ve got them pinned down.’
He gave me a thumbs up. We both realized that if they tried to advance or
retreat, they would have to expose themselves; thus, we just needed to wait for
them to take action because we had the tactical advantage of looking down on
them from an elevated platform.”
“For a few
minutes, neither side did anything. Then suddenly, one Stasi agent fired a
whole clip of bullets from what was probably the Stasi standard arm—the Walther
PPK Pistole-38nl. The other Stasi waited for us to expose ourselves, hoping he
could take one of us out. Then the other fired his clip, still trying to get a
reaction. They repeated this tactic. We held our fire—primarily because we each
only had a single spare clip and were safe behind our barriers.
“In the
silence that followed this failed tactic, Thomas deliberately took aim and
fired two more shots at the man he had taken down earlier, I was surprised; the
man had been lying motionless on the ground for some time. Then I remembered
our training—'Make sure a dead man is dead—if you don’t, you’ll be the dead
man.’
“The Walther
PPK has a magazine which holds only 10 rounds. Our Stasi friends had obviously
brought several extra clips with them but were now apparently conserving their ammunition.
At this point, I was certain we were winning; we just had to be patient. We
needed to get back to the tunnel so it could be sealed, but had to be
exceedingly careful not to expose its existence to the Stasi. The intercept
site that was associated with the tunnel had been described by Secretary of
Defense McNamara as ‘A national treasure of inestimable value.’
“It was a
good thing that the two in front of us were pinned down; otherwise, they would
have radioed for help. Then I realized that if they did not check in soon, help
would probably be dispatched to determine what had happened to them. Also,
there was a possibility—although the immediate area seemed to be
deserted—someone might hear the gunfire and telephone the East German Peoples
Police (VoPos).
“Fortunately,
at this point, the two Stasi Agents decided to extract themselves from their
tenuous position. They fired numerous rounds at us and began to retreat,
seeking shelter in the process. Eventually, we were able to hit them both.
Thomas advanced, intending to ensure that they were both dead. One of the men
was still alive, managed to raise his weapon quickly, and shot Thomas at close
range. I was so intent on taking the surviving Stasi agent out, I foolishly
exposed myself. Just as I fired, so did he. I was shot in the abdomen. The
throbbing, searing pain surprised me.
“Nauseated, I fell back onto a nearby bench.
Focusing through the pain, I realized I had to stop the blood flow. The bullet
had made a small hole in my abdomen, which was hardly bleeding. But my back was
soaked around the exit wound. I removed my overcoat and tied my suit coat
tightly around my mid-section, almost fainting from the pain and exertion. That
seemed to have stopped the bleeding; now I needed to start the ten-minute walk
back to my friends and the safety of the storm drain and tunnel. Lane was
beyond help. I could see from where I was that the bullet had taken off part of
his head.
“Sensing moisture again, I put my hand in
the small of my back and thought to myself, I’m still losing a lot of blood.
Calm yourself…calm down…you’ve got to reduce blood loss…but how? Maybe
if I get on my back, my overcoat and body
weight can stanch the flow.
“After several futile attempts to stand-up,
I managed a painful and uncoordinated lurch to my knees and then the floor. I
struggled but finally succeeded in getting my bunched-up overcoat beneath me.
The bleeding seemed to lessen. I tried to relax—conserve
my energy and think of a way out of this mess.
“Even though it was a cold night, I started
sweating; my throat went dry, and I became thirsty…so thirsty. Recognizing
the signs, I knew what was happening. In the war, I’d seen several people
die from stomach wounds.
“Looking at my watch, I said aloud to myself,
‘You’ve just three minutes to get to the tunnel.’ Earlier I had told my Air
Force friends, ‘You must seal the tunnel by 17:00. Don’t risk
compromising its existence. If I'm not
there, I'll find another way to get to West Berlin.’
“It’s strange how time passes very slowly
when you’re dying. I began worrying that the Stasi would show up and
capture me. If I don't talk, they will turn me over to the KGB for their ‘advanced
methods.’ Eventually everyone talks.
“I decided that death was preferable to
torture. Damn, the pain was excruciating as I searched for my Browning Special.
Eventually, I found it under my back. Fumbling and then finally picking it up,
I put the barrel in my mouth, and with a great effort pulled the trigger. All I
heard was a loud CLICK! It was empty. I asked myself how I could have
fired thirteen times and tried to count them.
“At this juncture, I remembered I had put an
extra clip in my overcoat pocket, but that was wadded up underneath me.
I knew that I’d never get to it. I should have brought the cyanide
capsule from my desk drawer—that would have been easier and fast.
Barely able to move my arm into view, I
checked my watch—17:16. As the pain diminished, I became strangely calm. The
blood flow had slowed. That was good; it meant the end was near. I could
die knowing the Stasi wouldn't get me, plus my daughter and her mother had
escaped.
As I peacefully drifted off, I recalled what
someone had once told me, “Your life flashes before your eyes just before
you die.” Smiling, I remembered another person had added, “So make sure
it’s worth watching.” In my mind’s eye, I could see Ben, the AP
photographer greeting me at the bottom of the metal stairs when I arrived in
Berlin in November of 1946—almost exactly fifteen years ago.
About the Author
Roger L. Liles decided he had to earn a living after a BA and graduate studies in Modern European History. He went back to school and eventually earned an MS in Engineering from the University of Southern California in 1970.
In the 1960s, he served as an Air Force Signals Intelligence Officer in Turkey and Germany and eventually lived in Europe for a total of eight years. He worked in the military electronics field for forty years—his main function was to translate engineering jargon into understandable English and communicate it to senior decision-makers in the government.
Now retired after working for forty years as a senior engineering manager and consultant with a number of aerospace companies, he spends his days writing. His first novel, which was published in late 2018 was titled The Berlin Tunnel—A Cold War Thriller. His second novel The Cold War Begins was published in late 2020 and is the second volume in his planned The Cold War Trilogy. This trilogy is based on extensive research into Berlin during the spy-versus-spy era which followed World War II and his personal experience while living and working in Europe. He is in the process of writing its third volume of the trilogy which will be titled The Berlin Tunnel—Another Crisis and takes the story into 1962 and the era of the Cuban Missile Crisis.
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Sounds interesting.
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