the

“Tron
Curtain’

By a Canadian Ex-member of the British Army of Occupation, Germany

¥ TRIP to Berlin was interesting. In the frst place the city was out of bounds

and I was unable te get a pass. In spite of this I was determined to go. So I

made myself out a bogus Berlin pass, and started off on the highway with some
trepidation. We had been so filled with all kinds of stories about the Russian Zone that
it had taken on with most of us the aspect of a fearful legend.

So now you see me hitch-hik-
ing along the autobahn.

“Where are you going?” the
Grivers would ask.

“Berlin.”

“Watch your step, boy. Why I
just heard yesterday...’

And so it went. The stories

seemea to have a remarkable si-
milarity.

Outside
lift with

Manover I picked a
two American negro
officers driving a jeep going
straight to Berlin. After a few
hours of hard driving (the atto-
bahns are marvelous speedways)
se came to the border. I must
ecenfess that T was pretty ner
vous as we reared the line. [I
didn’t know what might happen,
bersz somewhat afraid of my

“Dasg.”

Well, we =topped at the British
eheck point. Three efficient
looking red caps rap out from
the hut and examined our papers.
To my surprise mine was not
Then we headed for

questioned.
the “iron curtain’—not fifty
yards away. My temperature

rose. Here was the last hurdle,
what would happen now?

“T was amazed at what did
happen. A Red Army ‘bloke’,
standing half inside his sentry
box, lifted the pole barrier and
waved us through.’ As we P@Ss-
ed he gaye us 2 salute. You
Can imagine my relief. So this

SOTTO Te UOT ENUF
@ Feature Section

was the “Iron Curtain” with
which Churchill and his journal-
istic aides had sought to alarm
the world.

e

OM the border it was then

open throttle to Berlin. Every
few miles the Red soldiers had
erected huge decorative signs
with Russian texts, mostly com-
memorative of past struggles and
to remind the soldier of his new
prestige. All signs in English,
of course, had now ceased and
from now on road directions were
in Russian and German.

We._.met very few soldiers on
the highway except at one inter-
mediary point where the guards
asked for cigarettes. They want-
ed to pay us in marks ,but we
waived the courtesy, and it was
then “tovarisch” all around. Fur-
ther on we were stopped by a
group of ragged German urchins.
They offered a large basket of
wild strawberries and thought
they were handsomely paid with
a pack of 20 cigarettes. They
had only asked for 10.

That evening I put up at the
transit barracks im the British
zone, where the chaps regaled
me with further tales of the Rus-
sian one. I was warned to stay
in the British or American zones,
or if I did venture over, oT
your weapons with you and don’t

go at night.”

AT CART

SEE 3

ROAD TO PEACE

A Lancashire youth had a par-
ticularly sensational tale at sec-
ond hand (of course) of one of
his own company who had
“found himself” in the Russian
zone. Red police had there torn
him from his fraulein and lodged
him in jail.

Somehow these stories sound
particularly lurid when related
eround midnight. I was amazed
at how the “iron Curtain” com-
plex had been fostered right up

' to the gates of the Brandenburg

Tor.
Se.

EXT morning, bright and

early, after a shave, wash and
breakfast, I began my explora-
tions. Contrary to all advice, I
went without weapons, I passed
through the Bradenburg Tor and
once again the “Iron Curtain”
was politely lifted. Along the
Wilhelmstrasse I made the ag-
quaintance, in the most casual
way, of two Red Army men, Ni-
colai from Smolensk and Dmitri
from Kursk. We exchanged pres-—
ents, my cigarettes for their Rus-
Sian ones and some cherries.

They took me in tow for the
rest of the day. We went to Red
Army clubs and to a _ service
movie and then to the Red Army
mess, where we ate bortsch, the
real Russian potage, fish, pota-
toes and chai, with dark gleb
(bread) and all this washed down
with vodka.

Here I met some of the much
discussed Red Army girls. One
of these, a girl named Nina, used
me to refresh her English. She
was only 18, I found, but with
the most adult air and under-
standing. I almost felt it neces—
sary to apologize to some of these
Red Army men and women. It
seemed to me that they had lived
ten lives to my, one.

ee.

ERLIN, all zones included, fT

felt the most exciting of the
cities of western Europe. As a
city it is only a shell. But this is

- locales

the theater to which east and
west have journeyed, and have
sat down, in their respective
,to regard ~each other——
for how long?

I wanted to find out how much
fraternization, if any, there was
between the Soviet troops and
ourselves, and my impression
Was that relations in general
were pretty bad. I could sense
this when I went to the Russian
zone by their reaction to my
battle dress. I knew the friendly.
manner and the easy approach
of these same people ig their
Own cities, but Berlin had “edu-
cated” them.

r stood to attention and
saluted their commander when
a troop of Red infantry filed by,
but I only got scowls and angry
mutterings from the OR’s as
they went by. Walking along
the streets I noticed Red Army
men and our own passed each
other obliquely with na salutes
acknowledged. But when you
chose to meet them halfway as
individuals you could get along
splendidly. I have good grounds
tor believing that, for our part,
the hostility. is deliperately
fostered in the highest Places.

In the British zone I made
inquiries at various bureaus try-
ing to discover if there was any
sort of inter-ailied club where
Soldiers from all countries could
meet fraternally. But I soon
found that in voicing such an
idea I was regarded with aston-
ishment, as though I had made
some outlandish suggestion.

In every other city over which
war has passed you can find a
United Nations club—but not in
Berlin.

Finally, I made the acquaint-
ance of an AMG girl in the
American zone. She was a New
York artist on “civvy street.”
Brom her I learned more about
this side of Berlin than from
all the news dispatches. She had

been trying for_ months to in-
itiate sueh a center as I was

“seeking. It was quite enlighten-

ing to hear her tell of the un-
counted obstacles put
way, and of each attempt fin-
ally being vetoed by the “very
high.” =

in her

HAVE never seem a city so

devastated as Berlin. I had
thought that Bremen and Ham-
burg were the ultimate in des-
truction but Berlin is like the
thousand year old ruins of a
Roman city in which people still
live and strive to pick up the
torn threads of their daily lives,
some openly dejected, others
with assumed cheerfulmess, and
all wondering about the future.

I was strolling by the old
Reich Chancellery one day. An
ill-clad, hungry-looking individ
ual attached himself to me. E
tried to shake him off. He spolce
perfect Pneglish, and wanted to
offer himself as a guide.

Afterwards I was glad tr
hadn’t been too insistent im re-
fusing. He proved to be a form-
er curator of the Berlin Mus-
cum, and, as he explained, they
were reduced to such penury
they must come and beg like
this,

As we walked I was conscious
that everything he pointed out
he referred to in the past tense.
That was the Reichstag. Over
there was the Charlottenbure
Palace. Yonder was the Nation-

al Museum, and that ruin was

the Berlin Opera, and so on.

The most haunted remnant
seemed to be the forum on the
Unter den Linden. There the
sculptures were strewn among
the weeds. It was all most
melancholy and tragic. One
wonders whether the remaining
capitalist centers will try to
salve their crises as did the
Germans, and ,in these days of
the atom bomb, was [I- looking
my last at London and Paris?
At any rate, Berlin as it is now
rates almost with Nineveh ard
Tyre.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 15, 1946